It's five o'clock in the afternoon. He's putting on a suit that's too big, black turned grey from the wear and tear of time and the sun, even though it is shy here. It's not his, nor the star, nor the suit. They pass it on, like the illusion of a better life. When some go home, he prepares his descent into the French capital. His favourite district: the 11th arrondissement. That's where the generosity is the greatest and the police the most pliant.
His journey begins at La Chapelle. In the back of a shop, he shapes what adds to his misery. He could be at the back of the metro selling fruit or toys as loud as flashing lights, but he's peddling flowers. His livelihood: speculating on the legendary romanticism of Parisian lovers, meddling in tête-à-tête, holding out a rose as closed as a heart, with no thorns and no smell. The response to these offerings of love is often indifference and disdainful annoyance.
Moving through the night, at the whim of the bar owners. Waiting for the surge of inebriation that loosens the gestures of attention. He, who fled a great illicit love and didn't even leave an arranged fiancée back home, knows all the Parisian love codes. Red roses for new couples, white roses for those pretending to be friends.
But he prefers to sell jasmine braids. The animal power they exude transports him to his homeland, to a skin and to the spice and flower markets of Dhaka. Her mother ran a stall there. Like pearls, she strung jasmine, tuberose and marigolds in garlands of colours that rivalled those of turmeric.
He is Bangladeshi, an exile without refugee status.
He lives up to his first name: Yāsaman, which means jasmine in Persian.
To create Bangla Yāsaman, Isabelle Larignon plays on her craft as an illusionist, building an incredibly realistic soliflore without a drop of natural jasmine absolute. The jasmine accord is dressed in spices and the celery facet of cis-jamone is accentuated. Like curry and immortelle, the essence of celery seed evokes the warm, sensual scent of skin.
Like a jasmine hybrid, Bangla Yāsaman exudes the fruity, animalic aspects of Sambac, and the green, tobacco aspects of Grandiflorum. The accord is softened and warmed by Peruvian balsam supported by vanilla absolute. Cardamom adds freshness and creaminess to the top notes. Osmanthus flower naturally supports the leathery, rustic notes of paracresol, while adding the velvetiness of apricot skin.
bergamot, bucchu, cardamom, lemon, turmeric, bitter orange petitgrain, jasmine accord, celery seed, osmanthus, saffron, clary sage absolute, fir balsam, indole, Peruvian balsam, tobacco absolute, vanilla absolute.
Isabelle Larignon
Alcohol Denat. (79% VOL.), Aqua (Water), Parfum (Fragrance), Limonene, Citrus Aurantium Bergamia Fruit Oil, Hexyl Cinnamal, Linalool, Tetramethyl Acetyloctahydronaphthalene, Linalyl Acetate, Benzyl Alcohol, Myroxylon Pereirae Oil/ Extract, Pinene, Benzyl Salicylate, Benzyl Benzoate, Vanillin, Benzyl Cinnamate, Alpha Terpineol, Citral, Hydroxycitronellal, Isoeugenyl Acetate, Geraniol, Farnesol, Beta-Caryophyllene, Geranyl Acetate, Rose Ketone-4, Terpinolene, L-Carvone, Juniperius Virginiana Oil, Pogostemon Cablin Oil
*Credits last photo: Manon Jalibert
