They label their perfumes ‘from our trips, with love’.
Call them ‘A quiet morning’, or ‘Shanti Shanti’.
Petales de roses et santal des Indes, Iris pales, feuilles des patchouly, baies roses et cardamone…
You don’t need to have French to imagine that on your skin.
Or ‘green, green, green and…green’. Tranquility itself.
In the shop two professors, shocks of grey hair, were conferring earnestly with a young Japanese woman.
They were the Miller and Bertaux, and she was showing her embroidery.
I saw it later, restless threads on a pilgrimage of homespun. Little cloth bags.
This place is kind of holy. Make sure you come here.