Emma was right. The-scent-formerly-named-Zurich is begging to be unleashed, as a pure perfume. Not an eau de toilette, not a cologne, not an eau de parfum.
A perfume.
A full on, hot, raunchy, Saturday-night-racetrack-Sunday-morning-church-pew perfume
I took the top off of her today, waking her after a month-long nap.
She yawned, extended her arms in a full stretch of cedar, then sank back down on a pillow of vanilla.
She needs an umph.
A kick.
She needs more. So I will give her more – thirty percent more.
Maybe this will tempt her out of her slumber.
And she will be called Dear.
I’ll explain. I promise.
Bravo! I am so pleased you are opening the door. Enjoy the journey into the richness of the parfum. By the way is the name anything to do with a song? It makes me think of a song from the jazz age. Cheers E