Scent Stories: La Petit Robe Noire

She slinks across the room, not one foot after another like all the other common folk around her. No. She glides on the surface of the dirty woodwork, barely making a sound, nothing short of feline. Whenever she begins to move, everyone round her stops, conversations dissipate and turn into whispers. Those who watch her usually start starting at her from the bottom up, defying gravity. Her legs always seem to stretch on for miles and miles. Legs that start with red-painted toe nails on dainty little feet in sky high heels. If you so happened to be directly in her path, she looked to you like a living Barbie doll; long legs, slim waist slightly pinched inwards in the middle and long birdlike graceful arms adorned only with the simplest jewellery. A watch and a bracelet maybe. Hardly any more. Her hair was left to do as it pleased, intentional beach wave curls to give the illusion of one who did not take to much time to reach such a high level of sophistication. Her features all seemed so small and dainty. All except her eyes which seemed to be like a dam, holding back a river full of secrets. Everyone watched her when she walked through the clubs, dancers ceasing their up-tempo, off-beat gyrations and giving way, the air filled with both envy and desire. She rarely ever speaks, just looks out onto the world with those river dam eyes.

Should you ever have the chance to stop her, to be near enough to her to speak with her without her entourage cutting in then there's only one question worth asking; "How does something so beautiful survive in such a dark place?" To which she might answer "There's always the faint hint of something pungent, even in the sweetest of smells." Or she might look upon you with her full kohl-lined eyes and show you that sweetness is just a facade, yielding to many more layers carefully covered up. And still, she might ignore you, pretend she never heard your question. Long after she is gone, you might find yourself wondering if the encounter was even real, did you really see the infamous club owners daughter? Her petit robe noire et talons hauts? Maybe you did maybe you didn't, for she is gone as silently as she came, never lingering but always the same.