Recollection: August, 1977 – an Italian town on the Santero river
I remember how I once ordered tea in a charming Italian café. When the waitress was pouring it into a porcelain cup, the smell of jasmine invoked the memories from my youth…
Imagine a spring garden an hour after the sunrise, when the light envelops with its softest beams each blade of grass and each opening flower… I was very young. I stumbled upon that place quite by accident. Fascinated by the morning mistiness of the shapes and colours, I was wandering along the garden paths… Just before I laid my eyes on her, I felt a waft of freshness and innocence. She was bathing in the garden bathhouse. The sun was illuminating her fair hair and pale pink cheeks. I couldn’t see much as the blooming bushes were creating a thick screen. I remember being intoxicated by the scent of jasmine, hyacinth and aloe.
I don’t know what her name was. But to me, she’s still an embodiment of delicateness and freshness, just like a garden at dawn, shrouded by mist and the first rays of the sun.
I decided that both Her, and her garden, deserved their own fragrance. IMOLA VINOVE.