Upon the next stage, a spotlight is focused on a mammoth bronze sculpture of two snakes entwined. Their bodies are wrapped around each other in an intimate embrace, and their tongues touch suggestively. The deep, somber boom of a standing bass leads into a twelve-string guitar’s plaintive moan, and as the music swells, a stunning, statuesque woman steps out from behind the statue, her fierce and regal face in profile. The spotlight dims to a deep amber-red, and shines a dark, sanguine light onto her, tinting her long, wild hair the color of blood. She sings:
Sunday is gloomy, my hours are slumberless.
Dearest, the shadows I live with are numberless.
Little white flowers will never awaken you,
Not where the black coach of sorrow has taken you.
Angels have no thought of ever returning you.
Would they be angry if I thought of joining you?
Gloomy Sunday.
She turns, and abruptly faces left. Her features are coarser, more masculine, and you notice the rough, dusky shadow of an evening beard on the singer’s face. On this side, the hair is cropped short, and as s/he sighs and begins the next verse, you hear the voice deepen to a weathered, sorrowful baritone.
Gloomy is Sunday; with shadows I spend it all.
My heart and I have decided to end it all.
Soon there’ll be candles and prayers that are sad, I know.
Death is no dream, for in death I’m caressing you.
With the last breath of my soul I’ll be blessing you.
Gloomy Sunday.
The singer turns to face the audience, and your senses reel. On the left side, the features are sharp, but feminine. You can see the curve of her breast, the soft fullness of her hips, the arch of her fine brow. On the right, it is the body of an Adonis, muscular and commanding. You see that a thick seam runs down the center of the body, stitched roughly.
Though the vision is disconcerting, the warmth and passion in the singer’s voice swells inside your heart, and you are spellbound. Enraptured, you realize that though the gender is opposed on either side, one soul binds the whole.
Dark, moody, and bittersweet: black currant, patchouli, tobacco, cinnamon leaf, caramel, muguet, and red sandalwood.
Christine –
Intriguing scent. It moves through various scents as it ages and dries down on my skin. For the first little bit, it was . . . oof – intense, woody notes, very strong and almost harsh. After a little time, it moved through vanilla and dark florals, with a smokey undertone, and then to a sweet incense with touches of vanilla. Really lovely, though I wish the floral notes stuck around a bit better. A good scent for everyday and for work, at least on my skin.
Jodi –
My impressions of Beauty: Main note is a bright, rose with the slight lemony quality of white roses. Main middle note is the tobacco which is a dried and “dry” type tobacco. Not smoky, chewy, or sticky at all. More like the smell of an unsmoked cigar. Tobacco (especially cigar) can be overwhelming to me FAST, but this stays subtle and adds a complex sort of bitter hay-like note. Bottom is VERY resinous with the Frankincense and Myrrh as star players. I don’t detect the vanilla until toward the very end of dry down, but it probably helps round out and soften some of the sharper notes. Oakmoss is also extremely subtle. If I didn’t know Oakmoss was in here, I probably wouldn’t even notice it. In this case, it deepens the blend just a bit and adds what I’d call “a bit of fresh air”. I can’t find the patchouli in here, unless its part of what makes the rose a bit tart. Sandalwood is the same. I think its part of that resinous bottom, but it doesn’t stand out like the Frank & Myrrh. As it dries, the rose fades and the resins take over. Oakmoss and sandalwood make a stronger showing, but still subtle. I would call this a “grown-up” floral. Probably a little too seductive for a corporate office type job, but I could see this as a good blend for a sales type job or for dates within an established relationship. Its sexy, but not really flirty or playful. All in all quite beautiful, but serious.