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320 pages, Hardcover
First published March 1, 2012
Despite my admiration for the cavity-inducing Hypnotic Poison, olfactory pastries were never something I could get particularly worked up about. I may want to offer myself up at dessert when the mood strikes; I don't want to smell of it. Which is why Bertrand Duchaufour's take on vanilla delights me particularly: it reminds me of something I'd much rather wrap my lips around after dinner than a spoonful of vanilla icecream ... a good cigar.
Finding my own perfume to herald our clandestine love affair wasn't much of a quandary either. As soon as he smelled Serge Lutens' Tubereuse Criminelle between my breasts, Monsieur whispered 'Criminelle' in gloating tones and proceeded to bare them.