GAROFANO/ SANTA MARIA NOVELLA
A brilliant pink Spring Sunday in Japan, cherry blossom season.
After a bath, a sleep on the sofa, and a couple of glasses of Zubrowka vodka, I put some Santa Maria Novella on and left the house, emerging and blinking blearily into a windy, sunny afternoon: a woozy, technicolour dreamworld of peach and cherry blossom blowing in the breeze like drifting, petalled snow in a gentle reverie of scent, as carnations seemed to bloom from my skin, and the sky was open and bright blue above.
With this king of carnation perfumes (and to me, this really is king), startlingly real apparitions of pale, full, pink carnations appear in all their lusciousness and vitality from the tiniest drop on the skin, while the cloviness of the flowers seems to grow only more intense the more time passes, never letting up in strength and aroma the…
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