Paris 1978 and another endless night in one of the world’s wildest nightclubs. Follow it’s powdery scent. Downstairs it’s a Negroni Yuzu for her and a Whisky Sage for me Ribbons of tobacco smoke weave their magic. Leaning on the cedar wood bar, I watch her moving on the dance floor. Wafts of myrrh, vanilla, patchouli and oriental rose go to my head.
Though I close my eyes for a second, the Bains Douches never sleeps.