Perfume.com

Saturday night was an evening of rich extravagance. My beau and I attended a Creative Black Tie Masquerade birthday celebration, in honour of a dear friend who spared NO expense allowing us to party like energized teens at her turning of (yet another) decade.

I surprised myself (being organized a whole week in advance) and, both of our handmade Italian Venetian masks having just arrived fresh at my doorstep, I decided to do a whirlwind party dress shopping trip during the late afternoon, choosing a Lavin sequinned and sculpted top, paired with Barbara Bui cigarette pants and Balenciaga stilettos.

I presumed that this was going to be a hot modern twist on a Marie Antoinette look, but to my dismay, the beau thought entirely otherwise. So there I was, one hour before the party started, and having a wardrobe meltdown. There is no description in the book Miss Manners for creative masquerade. And so my thoughts ran fervently. Was Prada still open?

And so I ranted, I paced, and after several wardrobe changes and a shot of Petron to calm my nerves, I went back to the original ensemble. I also spotted on my vanity a rather classic, timeless scent—- which, I just so happened to note, is what the master of seductive costumery herself, Madonna, wears: the timeless Fracas by Robert Piguet. It happened to be JUST the right accessory for my look and intent to come together.

Fracas by Robert Piguet is an overtly romantic scent with an edge of carnal daring. It is a scent described exactly as I wanted my aura to be at this masquerade ball: “singular, original, uncompromising and ravishing beautiful.” Based around a heavy note of tuberose and using a blend of white flower and orange, along with jasmine, jonquil, lily of the valley and white iris, Fracas leaves a lasting impression of a lady who means business. …Whether the business is actually business, or just to party.

Renowned fragrance critic Chandler Burr of the New York Times said it best: Fracas is a hat trick of a legend, an equilibrium between the power of the perfumers style (tall, beautiful, intellectually voracious, abrasive (and possibly lesbian)) and the power of tuberose.

As the night came to a fade and we stepped into the weaning light of a rising sun just peeking over the edge of the hillside, my fragrance had lasted as long as I had. And only the impression the night left would last longer than us both.