L'Artisan Histoire d'Orangers is the very gothest orange blossom. If you could distill all the words in every language for "melancholia," capture the essence of a flick of heavy black eyeliner, or bottle the resonance of a sorrowful minor chord, that would sum up this perfume. It's the poetry of abandoned orange groves at twilight, their spectral blossoms an incense of Saudade, Sehnsucht, or Mono no aware. For those moments when you long to wrap yourself in a tremulous sublimity of sadness, to revel in the exquisite pain of being achingly alive in a world that's always slipping away. I'm aware this is the biggest, corniest cliche you've ever heard, but as a Florida goth awash in perpetual summertime glooms, I don't know what else to tell you.
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2 years ago
Frequently Asked Questions about Histoire d'Orangers by L'Artisan Parfumeur
What does Histoire d'Orangers by L'Artisan Parfumeur smell like?
Histoire d'Orangers by L'Artisan Parfumeur features top notes of Neroli and Tea, middle notes of Musk and Orange Blossom, and base notes of Ambroxan and Tonka Bean.
Who created Histoire d'Orangers by L'Artisan Parfumeur?
Histoire d'Orangers by L'Artisan Parfumeur was created by Marie Salamagne.
When was Histoire d'Orangers by L'Artisan Parfumeur released?
Histoire d'Orangers by L'Artisan Parfumeur was released in 2017.
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Histoire d'Orangers, from L'Artisan Parfumeur was released in 2017. The perfumer behind this creation is Marie Salamagne. It has the top notes of Neroli and Tea, middle notes of Musk and Orange Blossom, and base notes of Ambroxan and Tonka Bean.
L'Artisan Histoire d'Orangers is the very gothest orange blossom. If you could distill all the words in every language for "melancholia," capture the essence of a flick of heavy black eyeliner, or bottle the resonance of a sorrowful minor chord, that would sum up this perfume. It's the poetry of abandoned orange groves at twilight, their spectral blossoms an incense of Saudade, Sehnsucht, or Mono no aware. For those moments when you long to wrap yourself in a tremulous sublimity of sadness, to revel in the exquisite pain of being achingly alive in a world that's always slipping away. I'm aware this is the biggest, corniest cliche you've ever heard, but as a Florida goth awash in perpetual summertime glooms, I don't know what else to tell you.