It was time to make my way to the square just outside Palais Royal, where I was to meet Monsieur D. At exactly 1pm sharp, Monsieur D arrived, and we exchanged pleasantries before strolling into the Palais Royal. Our first stop was, naturally, the famed Serge Lutens boutique, where countless other perfumistas before me had no doubt made the pilgrimage to. The outside display held a bust wearing a metal helmet, presumably to promote the latest release, La Vierge de Fer. Inside, the lighting was dim and the décor an oppressive, sinister goth designed to swallow up the soul. Or perhaps it was meant to recreate the sense of quietude and respect that one would encounter in a cathedral, with the perfumes in their bell jars being the objects of worship, and the blotter strips laid out neatly in front of them being the incense to be offered. Continue reading
I had a triple shot of coffee this morning, and then I reached for my sample of Testostérone by Swiss brand Sentifique, because I figured the coffee combined with a perfume named after the masculinity-definining hormone would turn me into a true man, or turn on my ‘beast mode’, or enable me to ‘drop panties’ (I use these terms with sarcasm, and really don’t like it when people use the latter – ‘pantydropper’ is degrading to women and ‘beast mode’, well, should be reserved for animalic fragrances – think Serge Luten’s Musc Koublai Khan, which really turns you into a delightfully stinky furry animal).