A perfume like a mixture. A mixture like miscellanies that collide between words and materials to explain a little, without explaining too much, the why of a perfume. Frustration.
It was in summer a few years ago, in Barcelona while walking on the Ramblas, I was listening to the song of Rare Bird, an English progressive rock band from the 70s, the song was called Sympathy and the chorus said " and sympathy is what you need my friend, and sympathy is what you need my friend cause there's not enough love to go round, No, there's not enough love to go round… ” And there suddenly rich with a whole psychoanalytic past according to Lacan, this same past which is sometimes my strength over others, sometimes my great weakness over myself, emerging from the chorus a word stronger than sympathyplants its black flag of melancholy in the heart of my mind, a word that is fairer, broader, truer, more sincere, more useful since forged from the experience of life: FRUSTRATION . And then sing again in my head the substituted refrain “ …And frustration is what you need my friend, and frustration is what you need my friend. »
Frustration , eldest daughter of renunciation and sister of perfume since perfume proceeds like frustration in the game of love, it gives by resuming, a satiety never satisfied, a pleasure started but never achieved, an infinite movement of desire without completion, without apotheosis, an instillation that excites, seduces, lulls, dominates and annoys like a Bolero by Ravel. Frustration.
So take a vanilla pod, a garden rose with turgid red petals, an old rum full of amber woods, a bourbon vetiver, bring each of these materials to your senses between the mouth and the nose. Frustration.
Breathe, taste the circulation of incredible saps, delectable but never sufficient fermentation where you ask for more, all nostrils out, ... "Again, again, let us take your freckles deeper, and become this animal with a deaf brain of the child who wants to enjoy and devour more this chestnut wood, this cinnamon or this vetiver until it bursts and then bathe sated in the poem of smell." Frustration.
This is the love game of perfume, this is the game of love according to Musset, Shakespeare or Racine. And that's good because satiety kills while desire brings life by creating movement through ever-renewed distance so as never to consume like an ogre killer. Frustration.
Happy are the consumers of desire, unhappy are the consumers of enjoyment.
Frustration , a perfume to awaken the strong child in the fragile adult or awaken the fragile child in the overly solid adult, a perfume for a journey in regression to the land dominated by vanilla, rum and vetiver.
A state of Extraordinary Orange that you must reach to live between the child and the adult passionately the memory of a lack.
