Bibliotheque de Parfum Memoirs of Geisha

Description

Top Notes: Bergamot, water jasmine, ylang-ylang, grass.
Middle Notes: Damasian rose, lily, violet leaves, peach, pear flower, white heliotrope.
Base: Ambra, tonka beans, vanilla, cashmere wood, coconut, sugar, ebony tree.

She doesn’t try to seduce with nudity. Having undressed, exposing a naked body for everyone, will not wait for compliments. This is not her seduction story. What for? She knows how to do it differently. So that he goes crazy before he sees the image. For this, she uses the voice and scent of Memoirs of geisha by Bibliotheque de Parfum. 
It is far from the classical canons of fragrances. It doesn’t smell like flowers or spices. There isn’t even a drop from the complex intricacies of notes. Memoirs of geisha by Bibliotheque de Parfum is different. It has the purity of the body and its warmth. In it, sharpness and softness replace each other, like day and night. The fragrance contains dozens of notes, facets and combinations.
But you will never divide Memoirs of geisha by Bibliotheque de Parfum into a classic perfume pyramid. The aroma lays down on the skin and begins to provoke. Shows one note, another, and then all at once. It plays with you and those who are nearby, like a cat with a mouse. The magic of the notes is the magic of Memoirs of geisha by Bibliotheque de Parfum. Wear it in your daily life and enjoy the effect of the perfume. Don’t keep it with your best underwear on the far shelf. Use this female weapon now. The way nature itself suggests.

DEDICATED TO AMI: Who played the piano.
 
Ami used to play at home every day, starting at seven in the morning. There was no schedule or plan for this. She simply finished her morning routine by this time. She would wake up, get up, make her bed, wash her face with cold water, drink a glass of water with a slice of bergamot, replace the water in the vase with lilies with clean water, change out of her nightgown and into linen pants and a cashmere sweater.
 
Then she would sit down at the instrument, open the lid, which she always kept closed to protect the keys from dust, raise her hands, and the music would begin to flow. Every time she played, she remembered special days in her life: meeting her mentor, meeting her husband, walking by the river last year. Today she was playing that day by the river: the music flowed like a stream. It seemed like you were floating on a boat alone and could hear someone’s important words coming from the shore, feel the smell of jasmine and roses covered with water droplets.