Divine

It was the invitation to a private party, a bold and sensual party, for a select few. It was true, then. Someone had told me about this secret Venice, a parallel world in which refined guests met in luxury residences to satisfy their most libertine desires, protected behind the unknown of a mask. I went, like a wolf in the night, with the blessing of Casanova. I wanted to see Venice also in this light. I revealed many secrets that night, but I still have two left. The first is why they chose me. The second is who brought that unforgettable scent that inebriated me all evening.

The scent

I still remember the password: Divine. I remember that he welcomed me a bergamot task, from which the sensuality of the ylang-ylang, lit by a tingle of mandarin, was already leaking out. The door closed behind me and enveloped me in the seductive softness of the rose, then in the heady marine notes as I entered the big hall with low lights. I remember that it was as if Venus were emerging from the waters at that very moment: everything became more and more sensual, always warmer than amber and vanilla, while passionate moss was pressing, and sandalwood heated that fiery night.