The curtain rises on a state at the corner of 69 rue des Archives, in the Marais, in Paris. A place that is like a...
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The curtain rises on a state at the corner of 69 rue des Archives, in the Marais, in Paris. A place that is like a border, where the old world ends and the new one begins. In the distance, you can see the pale moon lowering over the towers of Notre Dame. A man and a woman are in a perfume shop, surrounded by bottles. He has given in to a fallen ruler and is doomed to the ultimate fate. She is the new soul, the new role, she is desirable and she has conquered. She is the denunciation, a little condescending. The fluttering of her eyelashes declares that she is the one whose hour of glory has arrived, a fragrant blotter in her hand.
It is November 16, 2019.
\"- EXIT THE KING, a perfume to dream the entropy? Finally Etienne, you are rambling, you are losing your mind, entropy has nothing to do with perfume.
- Yes Lola, you heard EXIT THE KING, a perfume to dream entropy, entropy is pretty, isn't it?
- These three words sound in your voice like a twilight, like a farewell to the world perched on the scaffold of everything.
- There is nothing for you to understand, innocent child. It's about making a perfume like a castle on the Loire, a perfume that could rise higher than the castle of Blois, higher than the terrace where the last Valois watched the sun set in its glory. And then disappear, die, as if by magic before the fall. With the whisper of a kiss at the moment of its glory, then a humble return to something else. A scent of magnificence, of love and kindness for the new world, and of forgetting the old and the overwhelming powers. Resolutely chypre.
- Welcome to the new world you mean?
- Yes Lola, as long as it is modern chypre and eternal like this perfume.\"
EXIT THE KING.
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