Pop the champagne corks people the prima donna power woman has been promoted to the top.
She enters as always in a graphite pencil skirt sharpened to a point and beautifully tailored jacket tucked at the nearly-not-there waist then angularly out to fill full broad shoulders.
One significant piece of jewellery.
She snaps a greeting to the crowd then an invitation to the few: her office, vintage fizz on ice…
“Now!”
This crazy French rush her only concession to her elevation.
Yes it has been hard work.
There were others in the field.
Too right, they fell by the wayside.
Too bad.
Not the women they used to be.
She’s twice the woman she’s ever been.
The party over before it begins. She throws her Barda bag onto a glass and chrome coffee table where today as every day a fresh bunch of red carnations dressed with green grey moss buys time in a clear cube.
A feeble nod to a futile idea of femininity in a room that is a temple to the tanner’s art.
In the vestibule cringeing would-be colleagues cower on Barcelona chairs awaiting an audience with this new crowned empress of commerce.
Ushered in they sit on couches by le Corbusier, sipping too hot, too strong herb tea from constructivist espresso coffee cups while waiting to explain themselves.
It turns out their copy is, well, just not good enough.
The men leave. They are, if not fired, not hired either.
Appointments continue throughout the day, no let up in her manner no diminution of her power.
She departs in private elevator to chauffeur driven car to private elevator and finally top floor apartment.
Only the cheap take Penthouses, and then only for the articles.
At home and undressed, alone except for powder, she is poise and self possession personified.
An ornament of amber glows warmth across her expansive inner space.
Do they like her?
She laughs.
Does she care?
She doesn’t want love, affection, gratitude, infatuation, respect or even adoration.
She simply demands that they worship and obey her.
Azuree by Estee Lauder is to the power chypre what the Apollo moon rocket is to long haul air travel.
In these days of reductive reformulation she is a monument to ambition, quality of construction, projection and longevity, in every sense of that word.
Opening in a vertical trajectory, fueled by aldehyde and super charged bergamot, this scent is heading for the stars.
The interior of USS Azuree is pure leather, no PVC and hard plastics here.
In order to retain a sense of space age decorum, the more animalic elements are banished by a good strong bunch of synthesized herbs and a modest bouquet of boiled up blooms.
The pace is maintained a million miles or more, then, arriving at it’s destination our spacecraft scent slows almost to a stop, allows the softest of amber landings.
Mission accomplished.
Can a man wear it?
Azuree could be in a crowd of super heavyweight boxing champions and still be the butchest one in the room.
Yours ever
The Perfumed Dandy.
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The Perfumed Dandy. 