Once the sun becomes warm enough, walk along the stone path, through the gate, under the trellis. Sit on the marble bench. Feel the cool grass under your feet, the warm rays on your back. Do this every morning till sudden, variegated glints of red or purple or pink or orange catch your eye. They’ll be the first blooms of the season.
Color becomes scent in La Tulipe, a brilliant interpretation of the saturated, elegant beauty of the eponymous flower. Cyclamen and freesia engineer our sense of tulip as a slightly cruciferous entity, decidedly dependent on aqueous abundance. Rhubarb amplifies the sweet, watery echoes of cyclamen and freesia, enhancing all with its enlivening tartness. Tulip is the heart of this fragrance, a perfect puzzle of perfume: quiet yet present, here it is almondy, sweet and slightly spicy–think iris, mixed with lilac, mixed with the juicy, floral red of strawberries. The light, honeyed aroma of the gem-like petals is supported by sheer blonde woods and shimmering, loamy vetiver. Clip one, bring it inside, and place it in a small white vase on a table. I will find it there, unyielding in its simple devotion to its own pure form, color and smell. I’ll know Spring has come.