by Cécile Zarokian
for Jovoy Paris
It is midnight.
And your journey begins.
You’re deserting a LED-starred vault under which hosts of tourists gather, leaving behind the fountains and a haze of bukhoor, forsaking the sparkling life of a brand-new district, its marble floors and its facades polished like mirrors; its palm trees quietly aligned and its walls burdened with bougainvillaeas to venture through the fence of a construction site.
There, stuck in-between two motorways, in a wasteland reeking of petrol and burning sand, you catch a glimpse of your destination, for which you abandoned the seaside breeze. Lo! She is piercing the horizon, proudly rising above a forest of skyscrapers and iron crates. Wrapped up in shiny glass, she laughs at their concrete cloaks of white and pink and sand. She is the spire of a new cathedral, one of a future yet unseen.
She is calling.
Humidity rises, the sun heat sets and you’re emerging from the sand waste drenched in sweat. You’ve crossed a road only to discover an iron footbridge spanning an asphalt river crowded with immaculate speedsters.
You go in.
The AC, the silence, the excessively polished floor – there is no one in the corridor. A bored officer watches over a few tourists reddened by the sun, fattened from the food, burdened with their gifts. You keep going, eating up the mile-long corridor, stretching beneath skyscrapers and towers, between plazzas and palaces, around the Sofitel and Armani hotel.
From up there, trapped in this aquarium, you can gaze upon the city so clean, too clean, where everything is always shining, scintillating, sterlising.
Yet another few metres of this neverending footbridge. You’re sighing, you’re sweating, you’re hesitating. Is it all worth it? After all, you could still go back, hop onto a cab and get home, swearing never to make the same mistake again –
When it happens.
A breeze comes down the Mall. She comes to you, she’s looking for you, she’s embraces you. She smells of spices, she goes through attar bottles of rose and saffron, she brings with her the buttery scent of corn cooking in syrup and waffles hot from the oven.
She smells of leather and marble and luxurious sugar. From your iron footbridge, you suddenly find yourself under a peaceful dome, of which fall a thousand white feathers; at the foot of dancing fountains; between the cedarwood pillars of the gold souq; beneath the quiet ones of Al Bahar; in the shadow of the Burj.
Remember, Remember, Remember.
It is yet another comforting scent. Sober luxury meets simple sensuality. It is the scent of a skin tanned by the Sun and sand and salt. It reminds me of those places where karak tea and coffee join the numerous head-turning sillages of sheikhs and princesses. It reminds me of the peaceful nights at the turn of autumn, of the marine breeze rising from the Creek carrying along the scent of blooming jasmine trees and flowers of frangipani.
It is the scent of an embrace. Of the loved one coming back from a long trip. Of the subtle tingle when you smell her neck come morning sun. Of the child finding back his mother. It is the scent of a smile, of a breeze hot and humid, of sand and marble; palm trees and sparkles.
But above all, it is the scent of silence. Everything grows quiet around you but someone breathing, but a heart beating. A milky veil hides you from the world and its turmoil.
You are alone.
A glance, a kiss, a joy.
Remember Me - Jovoy Paris
100ml - 130€/150$
Available in all Jovoy stores, in Paris, London, Dubai, Qatar and Le Mans.
For more informations, visit their website : www.jovoyparis.com