Our love of L’Artisan Parfumeur began with the scent of French Tuesday. Sultry, enveloping, imbued with the same charm as the heavy French accents and toasts of Laurent Perrier. It was the fragrance of L’Eau d’Ambre – gorgeous and swelteringly addictive, daring as a first kiss and intimate as candlelight. We sipped champagne and drank each room, infatuated.
Our devotion deepened when we received a gift from French Tuesday. It was an exquisite, triangular red box with three candles, two Mimosa Maurin and one Mure Sauvage. We nurtured them like a bottle of Louis XIV – opening the cap, sniffing, indulgently taking a sip. We burned them sparingly, gently returning them to the box and retying the gold ribbon.
As Fall descends and temperatures get colder, the smells change too. Rain seeping through dry leaves, wet asphalt, spices in place of citrus, hot chocolate instead of lemonade. But if there’s one scent we’d like to leave with you, it’s the aroma of Ambre, tingling like the first cold chill, warm as a beach bonfire, decadent, endless.