Simone Andreoli is a name that defines olfactory compositions with memories of distant lands, imprinting reflections of a travel journal into every perfume, like the canvas of a painter or the stave of a musician.
The Journal tells of the constant wandering through the streets of the world which become individual areas, where olfaction becomes history, memory and emotion.
Its pages talk to us and, together with scents, guide us into our inner archive, leading us everywhere and to every place; sensory experience extends beyond skin and becomes a travelling depiction of distances and remote corners.
Perfume is the principal character, the narrator of stories that weave between written words and reminiscences thawed into a companionship of scents, where matter blends to lead us back to that forgotten beach or to the traffic of Wallstreet.
Travel is no longer simply a path to a place, but, rather, introspection, quest and knowledge. So we sail blown by perfume to the most difficult and mysterious journey of all: the discovery of your inner self.
Chapters 2. Writings in the dark
These are scents conceived during nights of introspection and sleepless wakefulness. Inspirations originating from smoke and rum, permeating clothes with strong aromas. Nights of excess and perdition, of candles lightened by wrinkled blankets and, at the same time, of reflection and inner quietness. Their minimalist structure hides the sophisticated notes from paper and unveils them only to the skin, obscured diary of experiences that radiate the environment with ponderous, seducing and erotic notes.
It began in the looks of those crimson faded lights which were looking for my eyes, like they were calling my name with a slow and warm whisper.
Then my sight became smell, twisting my perception of apparent consciousness drowned underneath an erotic scent of amber.
I left my awareness in the hall in order to follow that charming scent that, step by step, dragged my being before her suite to meet her lips in a kiss.
I remember an untidy bed and lighted candles that burned our intimate night of passion and pleasure. I stand by myself to commemorate our fleeting moment that endures inside thy perfume over these sheets, on my skin, deep inside me. I stay at your disposal for any other needs and I look forward to receive your gorgeous updating.
Into the groove of Rio I don’t want to think, I want to dance my life above the fire of passion.
Reckless, fatal free with no purpose, no regret.
Keep drinking because the night is waiting to take us and leave us lying on the sand with nothing else than our breaths.
Don’t let her wait because we don’t want her to wait
Lust is a no translating language, an impulse to indulge without asking permission to noble feelings.
Don't ask me permission...
Lime, Sugar, Orange, Passion Fruit, Peach, Ylang-Ylang, Heliotrope, Amber sandalwood, Cachaca