
Pardon my French, but what the hell. What is up with fragrance campaigns? They make me want to rush out and buy the scent, even though this one by Valentino will always be my true love. They are all so beautiful I want to make them into posters and stick them up on my wall (especially this campaign by Nina Ricci) and stare at it for more than 5 minutes. Parisienne by YSL is no exception. Kate’s smokey eyes, messy hair and that delicate rose are all telling me Bonjour. And that Eiffel tower. The LBD. Le sigh … Le everything. This ad is gorgeous, and Miss Moss (hehe, say it quick 10 times) still has it.
Parisienne is a scent that suits this eternal woman: she has personality, she is paradoxical, and she plays with convention. There is nothing obvious, only hints. This fragrance flows lovingly in a precious flacon, intricately carved like the labyrinth of Parisian streets, soft as the sheets she has just left behind, pink as the sky of a pale early morning, and as couture as the YSL label on black leather.
A beautiful presentation, just as Yves Saint Laurent dresses a Parisienne woman.
I saw the ad online and was determined to hunt it down at the department store, and shamelessly spray it all over myself.
I found out later that the target age was for women in their 30s, so I’m not sure I fit the target audience. However, when smelling this, the phrase “thirty and flirty” came to mind – it’s a flirty, floral fragrance. Notes include vinyl accord, cranberry, blackberry, damask rose, violet, peony, patchouli, vetiver, sandalwood and musk. I like to think that the women who suits this scent loves to have drinks after work (to which she’s the CEO of course), is self assured, confident, yet soft and feminine. In other words, I like it, but I wouldn’t buy it personally … I don’t feel like a ‘woman’ yet. I mean … I’m not a girl, not yet a woman (yes, I went there).
To my hard-working, amazing career lady readers, I think you’d love this. :)
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Parisienne is a scent that suits this eternal woman: she has personality, she is paradoxical, and she plays with convention. There is nothing obvious, only hints. This fragrance flows lovingly in a precious flacon, intricately carved like the labyrinth of Parisian streets, soft as the sheets she has just left behind, pink as the sky of a pale early morning, and as couture as the YSL label on black leather.
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