I think I must be the only one not getting the leather overdose in Rien. I find it a cold fragrance. Metallic. If someone told me that this is called Secretions Magnifiques, I would probably believe them.

Incense as in Orthodox Church in winter, after a night of heavy rain. Metallic spoons serving communion wine, iron candle holders. A snuffed candle by the breeze of opening doors. In front of me, an older Eastern European woman, wearing a Chanel N°5 imitation. It makes my nose itch but I come closer because I want to get another whiff of it. Lights out. The heavy rain must have affected the power supply. In the darkness, light from outside. And in the corner of the door, this young guy wearing a leather jacket is smoking, peeking through the glass paneled door. I close my eyes and I smell the flowers sold by the cemetery entrance.

This is Rien. To me. What I don’t experience in my dream church but can smell in real life and somehow anchors me to my dream (was it a dream?) is an animalic background. I close my eyes again. I walk to the half open door, and that young man is wearing Kouros. I open them and I can sense its last remains of sillage in my room.

9/10. Sillage and longevity from here to eternity.