Parfum Pour Toi
Scene: Imagine Paris in the Twenties

Panther-like she stands, clad in a column of molten grey panne velvet.
Across amber eyes, a sliver of black lace.
Through the smoky haze her dark eyes search, wondering who she is to meet.
Dali and Schiaparelli, arms linked, loll at the bar sharing a ‘naughty’ cigarette, glasses of absinthe and laughing wickedly.
The chic and cool demi-monde drape themselves languidly across the bar and banquettes.
A louche figure glides lazily towards her, elegant, androgynous, dressed only in a smoking jacket over velvet trousers.
Electricity sizzles through the air, intake of breath, then silence.
Only the piano trills its smoky, blues-y melody.
Slipping an elegant, bejeweled hand under her elbow, the mysterious one guides her to a banquette. Their faces come together…sexy, feline…audacious!
“Imagine!” Whispers one to another loudly enough to be overheard.
Then, no longer curious, they return to their gossip and laughter……

 

 

 



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