![]() If you learn the knack of it, you will sit down to write feeling as if you have a new sense entirely, one full of details, memories, an instinct finely honed, only waiting for you to use it. When was the last time I wrote a poem that could do that? This is the most magnificent practice. See if he isn’t beguiled by the smell on her wrist or neck. The note of danger that says this is laced with poison, watch out. If a boyfriend or husband is with her (men are particularly socialized for just this), so much the better.īut bitter almond is also the smell of cyanide. Almond that nestles so well among the golden honey and caramel of the base, the voluptuous jasmine and ylang-ylang of the heart, pretty things you could take a bite out of. Almond whose milkiness reminds us of childhood, cups of warm milk. If you detect a certain twist at the corner of her mouth, remind her that what makes “Vintage” so wonderfully contradictory is that note of almond going through it like a ribbon, like a rumor. Is she young? Dressed well, perhaps in cream or pastel? Does she smile easily? Give her Chabaud’s “Vintage” to try. To read the person walking through the door: the details of age, gender, affluence, build, the flicker of personality, or urgency or languor. ![]() You must learn to be adept in all the tools a writer needs to do their work well. ![]() ![]() When you start selling perfumes, you are in the business of selling stories. ![]()
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