I met a woman a few months ago on a train in Peru. She and I were up before the break of dawn, on a dreary and melancholic day…both sipping our teas while watching the storm build up outside our compartment windows.
She was plain but exquisitely well dressed for such an occasion: a messy bun, trench coat and a pair of quilted sandals. However it wasn’t her fashion sense that was especially attractive, it was her perfume.
The scent was of rotting earth and wet foliage. There was something both sweet and hopeful yet weary and tragic at the same time. It was the strangest thing, like a walk in the woods after a very heavy rainstorm. I had to ask what it was she was wearing and she revealed that it was My Burberry Black.
The moment I got back to LA I had to rush out and get one myself. It was the saddest love story ever, in a bottle!
I loved it; can there ever be a scent more reminiscent of Central Park after a thunder storm? This is the smell of a confident woman with a trench coat and a great desire to conquer the world….that is, once she’s gotten out of the rain =]
Patchouli , Amber