$30.00
Théodore Gérard
The stage is set for battle! A twist of wool, a rustle of silk, and a hint of cream.
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Red musk chypre draped in silk cords, abalone accord, black tea, frankincense, polished teakwood, plum leaf, and cognac.
“Save your slobbering,” said the old woman. “It doesn’t help you at all.” Caramel apples, cardamom cakes, hazelnut cream, and butterscotch.
Amber, cream accord, white honey, apple blossom, skin musk, caramel, and teak.
A tiny woman stands in the center of the stage, the perfect woman in miniature, her copper hair bouncing in elegant curls. She is surrounded on all sides by a necropolis of maimed, mutilated stuffed animals, decapitated fashion dolls, and eviscerated wooden figures. It is a strangely ghastly tableau: the disemboweled toys ooze fiberfill, batting, and sawdust from their gaping wounds. In one dainty hand she clutches a shard of glass, and in the other she nimbly twirls a razor blade. Her face is twisted in a grimace of mad ferocity, and she hisses as she brandishes her makeshift weapons at you. “Play with me?” she growls.
Soft, yet sociopathic: white carnation, iris, orange blossom, poisonous pale white berries, and sugared cream.
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