Expression by Jacques Fath

Kneel, you faithless worshippers of aromatized alcohols! This is (and always will be) an immense work of art. Any elixir that dares to approach this marvel is second-rate. Of course, I haven’t tried them all (I wish I had), but I’ve grown tired of the ‘almost-but-not-quite’, the ‘seems-like’, the ‘if-only-it-were-something-more’… When you’ve touched the sky with your fingertips, when a perfume writes in the same handwriting as your dreams, there is no substitute. You have to go through the grieving process, knowing that what you loved is lost and that you must survive the loss. Jerry Drake defines it better than anyone (the most heartfelt review I’ve ever read, chapeau). Thank you for defining the indefinable. I still remember the name of the beach, what was possible but forbidden, an angel whispering ‘don’t do it’, but that day I wasn’t there to listen to angels. All that was left was for it to be a full moon, but perfection doesn’t exist, or maybe it does, I had it on my skin, but it’s discontinued. I’m dying. Edit: I can’t believe it… after years of searching, thanks to Jerry Drake’s generosity, I have a miniature. I’m back to being 18 years old. Thank you a million.

I should never have to smell any specific perfume again. Many people think they’ve ‘lost’ their true love over a small detail: the right person, but at the wrong time. Sometimes love is a matter of timing. You might meet the one you’re looking for, but out of sync. Perhaps they were chasing their dream a thousand miles away; there was an age gap and different goals; you lived in different cities, and the distance discouraged you; or worse, she was already engaged. Untold stories we return to thanks to the evocative power of a scent, years later, wondering: ‘What if…?’. Who knows how your life is now and if you remember when you drove me for days just to go where you wanted. You were amazing; we would have gone anywhere when we were young, ready for adventure and love, always. Can you still smell the ocean? Lighting a fire to keep warm, a scent of wood, smoke, and sand all together, but brr… so cold in the middle of January. Yet, nothing stopped that burst of energy and the smell of your skin fused with the magic of Expression. Unfortunately, it’s no longer available, and sometimes I feel like an archaeologist finding lost relics. It’s one of the strongest perfumes I’ve ever smelled; just looking at the bottle prepares you for the revelation of its power and beauty, which marks, challenges, and subjugates you. Because at these levels, beauty absorbs and possesses you. An iridescent floral bouquet, dyed with the vivid colors of freshly distilled emerald bergamot peel, it’s in this vertical freshness where ylang-ylang and iris bloom. A floral bouquet with green touches of May roses, welcoming: fresh with woody and green aromas; sometimes earthy thanks to vetiver and a soft patchouli. A noble wood accord, highlighting a skin-deep, masculine sandalwood… like only Mysore can do. In the dry down, a slightly leathery musky base where oakmoss coordinates the choirs of natural and synthetic materials that, in a game of alterity and enjoyment, never miss their cue. A strong blend of heavy accords fused with honey that fills a room upon application and envelops the wearer for hours. This perfume knows no mercy and was one of the most opulent France has ever produced. If it were a kingdom, it wouldn’t be one, but many. And yet, all at once. It would be a dark forest and a field of roses. It would have seen the deep night and the light of day. It would be a source of great joy and profound melancholy. And it reminds me of an incredibly beautiful story.