Last summer, a very generous friend in perfume surprised me with a beautiful little bottle. I had no idea what was inside...and as curious as I was about the contents, I was enchanted by the potion's presentation. No clues... Beaux Arts, said the label... its appearance reminded me quite a bit of a couple of vintage Coty minis I have (L'Aimant and L'Origan). I became distracted just by the bottle. What a beautiful little something, my eyes said.
My nose did not yet know.
I dabbed some on, and was immediately happy. Neither clean nor green, but not far from either, it started off bright and cheerful but not in a high voice. Not long after, it moved on into other territory. Other territory meaning at first it introduced a bit more depth, then left the light for the opaque depths, molting the brightness nearly entirely. It became...powdery, a bit, but that's not quite right. Denser. Hints of richness, but easily breathed through. I'm thinking of a fog that isn't oppressive.
When I tried it again today, it was those things, with a big "a-ha!" as the drydown proceeded. It is the feeling of L'Heure Bleue (and some of its descendents), if blue was green. There's a certain palpable element to the space the scent inhabits. You can kind of taste it, kind of feel it...whereas in Bleu, that piece is violet-ish perhaps melancholy perhaps the trailing denouement of a happy story arc, here in Celadon the miasma breathes in green with cheer dominating the pondering.
Both are scents that make me daydream, and continually (if often absentmindedly) return to my wrist for a gentle huff, which keeps the creative thought zone gently humming. Celadon has a bit more lift, L'Heure Bleue a bit more transport. I'm happy to ride with either...both are a bit of a magic carpet for me.
Celadon is from Dawn Spencer Hurwitz' Beaux Arts "aroma color" collection. See her website here.
