Silhouette (Maison d'Être)

Silhouette was a fragrance that could be classified as a "trashy floral." Do not let that nomenclature mislead you into thinking that Silhouette was a common fragrance, however; for Silhouette was anything but. From the moment of its birth in the mountains of Sel, until the last whispers of scent rose from the skin, dissolved into the breeze, and finally died, Silhouette exuded luxury, mystery, melancholy.

Let us begin our description with the bottle. It was made of frosted glass and shaped like a block of ice. Its sides tapered inward, arriving at slender neck, to which a pump atomizer was affixed. As soon as the pump was depressed, the liquid entered the tube and was drawn upward, before finally exiting the nozzle in the form of a fine aerosolized mist.

Clear, almost strident top notes of citrus and bergamot came out first, fading into middle notes of anise and moon poppy, before the anise notes descended and base notes of musk, amber, and sandalwood emerged. The sandalwood and moon poppy notes remained, resonating like the tones of a singing bowl, as the musk and amber notes fell away. Anyone who had experienced Silhouette, upon detecting again the merest shadow of it, would find every detail of their first encounter with the fragrance--the scratchy tunic, the light falling across the cafe tables, the woman with purple fingernails folding and unfolding an empty sugar packet, the man in a suit ordering a double espresso--coming back to them in a flood of memory.

Demand for Silhouette was so high that lines on release days stretched half a mile or longer. Vetiverians who could afford the fragrance could also afford to hire professional line sitters who would sit in lawn chairs for several days, sipping from thermoses of bitter coffee, while their employers went about their daily business, going out, returning home, returning to the office, the opera, the club.