Notturno
Cycle of Poetry
The night
A tribute to the night, to poetry. Notturno tells of an inner journey within myself, a dark tunnel, where I stop and think about the beauty of poetry, the word engraved by the ink of life. The heady notes of Rhum pave the way like a slap in the face. An ethereal journey in a distant time, imaginary and dark rooms of the mind.
The poetry
The heart of the perfume is enveloping, as the skin wrapped the old diaries of writers, a warm hint of Spices, Birch and an elegant and dark Leather accord guards a delicate scent of flowers. It is here, in this instant of the night, that the notes of Ink, introduce the poets that have marked my life: Hölderlin, Rilke, Celan, Strindberg, Dostoevsky.
Rhum and ink
There is a moment in this perfume, where I wanted a sensual and romantic mutation, it is its land, its base. The warm notes of Amber and Musk, the creamy and enveloping notes of Sandalwood, the spiritual notes of Cedarwood and Incense. The dusty and smoky memory that remains on us, is the soul of poetry. Notturno signified an important passage in my journey, a perfume in which I wanted each of us to confront with ourselves, with the poetry that has marked our lives.
Notturno
The poetic and olfactory pyramid of Notturno is a dark’s work, a deep cut, which protects and envelops you in a sensual scent.
Composition
- Rhum
- Pineapple
- Ink accord
- Musk
- Incense
- Amber
- Birch
- Leather
- Sandalwood
- Cedar
Olfactory family: Woody
Facets: Fruit, Leather, Gourmande
Bottle of perfume
€ 172,00
€ 8,00
In the time of the night, in time of poetry and intimate search, Notturno comes to life. Housed in five autobiographical poetic moments, the olfactory pyramid of Notturno lives in an agreement of ink and molecules, fruits left to ripen for a long time, like memories. Incense and sharp notes of light flowers. The wood of the forest, present, wet; bare feet on the path of the poet, searching for something, continuously striving for.
I see in you my mother’s eyes.
you placed your hopes on drunken glances
that the morning made appear to your guests,
the white sheet that covered us,
I blew on threatening channels my temples throbbed,
it was May, I was born in the house,
at first dumb.
A pitch-black day falls from the bells,
like the tremulous veil of a grieving woman;
it is a colour, all black;
it is a dream of cherries buried in the earth;
it’s a smoking tail that obstinate transforms the color of water.
In the time of the night, in time of poetry and intimate search, Notturno comes to life. Housed in five autobiographical poetic moments, the olfactory pyramid of Notturno lives in an agreement of ink and molecules, fruits left to ripen for a long time, like memories. Incense and sharp notes of light flowers. The wood of the forest, present, wet; bare feet on the path of the poet, searching for something, continuously striving for.
I see in you my mother’s eyes.
you placed your hopes on drunken glances
that the morning made appear to your guests,
the white sheet that covered us,
I blew on threatening channels my temples throbbed,
it was May, I was born in the house,
at first dumb.
A pitch-black day falls from the bells,
like the tremulous veil of a grieving woman;
it is a colour, all black;
it is a dream of cherries buried in the earth;
it’s a smoking tail that obstinate transforms the color of water.
