A darling of London society, and one of the most influential ladies in Britain, Lady Blache’s aloof beauty, mysterious past and blazing passions are scrutinized (and mimicked) by all. A ruthless social climber, Lady Blanche’s latest fancy is poison: if she can bump off her husband (Lord George), she can inherit his wealth and bury the family secrets. Her fragrance is, fittingly, a green, narcotic floral; which is to say, charmingly dangerous.
A soft, silken sheen of insouciance cloaks Lady Blanche: this fine veil of magical nonchalance is a powder (orris), which maintains both her pristine beauty and her uniquely unapproachable demeanor. Like an animal constrained by an invisible leash, Lady Blanche is a captive to her fortunate circumstances: but not for long. As we gaze at her perfect visage, we begin to see the fire that lurks beneath. Narcissus rears its formidable head, dispersing its cool, splintery spice with reckless abandon. Like Lady Blanche, narcissus uses its bittersweet beauty to hypnotize and entrance in an eternally impolite fashion. Lady Blanche’s floral core is like a statement making Schiaparelli gown, subversively stunning with plenty of suprise elements. Once Lady Blanche has neutralized her victim with her Narcissian glare, she utilizes hyacinth. Hyacinth shines like the gleam of a well polished knife, a weapon that Lady Blanche uses to unify her pearlescent exterior with her steely interior. Once surgically synthesized, Lady Blanche turns her floral edge to whatever surface strikes her as needy. Who’s next on her strategic nip and tuck list? Lady Blanche considers Lord George, and decides on a method less obvious.