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Bal a Versailles
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I am not capable of writing an objective review of the Bal, having worn it since 1978.
Why do we love sausages and mashed potatoes when nouvelle cuisine or pacific rim is au courant? The hippocampus is to blame of course, we lay down memories with our sense of smell and this explains why we remember the end of the golden weather when our Dad wore Old Spice and our Mothers wore Tweed. Even though I embrace change and try to keep up with technology there is always that sweetest tabu, the nostalgic link to the best of times, the worst of times.
My head swivels to the waft of Aramis Devin or Chanel 19 because only a very definite personality type wears such. In other reviews I explain why I loved Ma Griffe, Weil de Weil, Shocking and Chanel No 5. I obtained them by roadkill. Bal a Versailles walked in to my life in 1978. It was wearing a slightly built, androdynous woman and I was shocked by the juxtaposition. After all, Joan Collins, Elizabeth Taylor and Her Majesty were followers of the original. Today I would wear Terre d'Hermes and wouldn't bat an eyelid at a man wearing Bal a Versailles (Michael Jackson did) or Cabaret. It seemed strange then but she certainly had me thinking. After working with the perfume and the woman for some time I began to harbor the possibility, what reaction this pelt might have with my body chemistry? I wasn't brave enough until our employment diverged and I discovered that I wore it and not the other way round. Today, post reformulation, I layer Cuir Amethyste and Bal a Versailles. Love means never have to say you're sorry.
04th March, 2013 (Last Edited: 19th March, 2013)