The Little Perfume Shop Off The Champs-Élysées. Rebecca RaisinЧитать онлайн книгу.
was thinking of his late father, who was lovingly referred to as le savant fou – the mad scientist – by his fans. If that was the case then I understood Sebastien’s sorrow. It had only been a year since he’d lost him, a drop in the ocean for bereavement, like only yesterday. No one knew what their relationship entailed but I suspected it was grief playing on his features and that made me soften slightly toward him. Even though he was the biggest jerk for pretending he didn’t know who I was!
With sunshine on his face Sebastien gave us a smile. Everyone stared, mesmerized by his presence. Still, his smile didn’t seem genuine to me. Almost as if he were acting. I only recognized it because I did the very same thing whenever anyone asked me how my parents were doing. Heard your folks were up to mischief again, everyone’s talkin’ about them! And I’d want to dissolve into the pavement, but instead I’d laugh it off. You know my folks, crazy as coyotes, but hearts of gold, I’d say time and again.
Even still, there was something magnetic about Sebastien, and it wasn’t only me who felt it, going by the open-mouthed, wide-eyed ogling going on around me from men and women alike. Under the soft sun he had magic in his eyes, just like his father.
Then Aurelie linked an arm through her son’s, giving us all a wave.
‘Welcome, friends,’ she said. ‘Our deepest apologies for missing the welcoming party.’ She shot a look at Sebastien. ‘An unforeseen circumstance cropped up, we promise it won’t happen again.’ Passers-by stopped and stared, some snapped pictures commemorating the moment in case we were noteworthy, but Sebastien held up a hand and dodged the photographer. ‘Non,’ he said. ‘No photos.’
Why did he hate the limelight so much? Those tourists were just being tourists. But I guessed he wasn’t going to let anyone catch him unawares – oh the irony! And what exactly was so unforeseen about their absence? I got the feeling Aurelie was fighting a silent battle with her son, but why?
Sebastien spoke up, ‘Today is a monumental day for Leclére Parfumerie. I hope being in Paris will take you and your parfumerie to new heights.’ While his words were measured they came out stiff as if he’d memorized them and spoke by rote.
No one else seemed to notice, they grinned, and pleasure bloomed on their faces. My own face was dark, I bet. I couldn’t seem to let it go. Now he knew I was struggling here already, what a terrible start! Would he have reported back that the wildcard’s knees were knocking already?
‘You’re probably wondering, as is most of the perfume world, why we decided to invite you, virtual strangers, and offer such a prize as we have.’ He paused, dropped his gaze.
‘Oui, everyone wants to know,’ said Clementine, huskily. So she too was affected by the man. There was no hope.
He gestured for us to come closer, and we each took a big step forward. My proximity to Sebastien made me anxious. My ego and my derrière were still a little bruised from the previous day. Best not to think of it.
As we crowded around him, he said, ‘This competition was my papa’s idea, but sadly he didn’t get time see it come to fruition.’ When he spoke about his father his face pinched and his voice tightened, it must’ve been very raw for him. Jen always told me I read too much into things, but I couldn’t help it. I’d always been that way.
My emotions were yo-yoing all over the place, I couldn’t work out if I liked or loathed the guy…
‘So in the spirit of keeping his legacy alive we decided to go ahead with the competition as per his wishes. He wanted to give someone a chance to make their name in the perfume world. A person with daring, an adventurous spirit, the type who’d think outside usual parfumerie parameters. The winner of the competition will get a chance to read through his notes, and make a range for Leclére.’
What! My heart hammered so loud I was sure everyone could hear it. The winner would get to read through Vincent’s notes! I was light-headed with the thought of it. That hadn’t been mentioned before and it wasn’t expected since the Lecléres were so private…
If I’d wanted to win before it was now amplified a hundredfold. Vincent Leclére had granted one interview in his lifetime – only one – where he talked about his love for perfumery and how he’d wanted to make a spritz of a perfume take you somewhere, somewhere more than just a memory, an evocation of time and place. What he’d wanted to do was heady, audacious, and I wasn’t sure it was possible, but how enlightening would it have been to see him try? To be able to read through his notes, to get an intimate look at what he believed was heady stuff.
I stole a quick look at the other contestants but I needn’t have bothered, the tangible bouquet of desire was heavy in the air. Everyone wanted to win such an honour.
Was that regret in the summer breeze? Sebastien’s fragrance salty and sandy, like a receding tide, changed with his mood. Perhaps it wasn’t his choice to share his father’s work? If it were me, I doubt I’d want to let a stranger into that private world either.
But it could further my own perfumery journey… I’d managed to create perfumes that were like potions, a bridge to help clients cross to feel better about themselves, but I’d never managed to bottle an emotion, a tangible feeling.
Could it be done? Vincent thought so, my nan had too…
‘Does anyone have any questions before we begin?’ Aurelie asked.
Hands shot up, including mine.
She pointed to me. ‘Oui?’
‘What will the days consist of?’ Just how prepared did we need to be? What if I made one mistake and lost this once in a lifetime chance? The stakes were even higher now and my thoughts scrambled like eggs. Should I have prepared more? Studied chemistry books? Memorized perfume combinations? Packed more practical shoes? Taken more vitamin B? My anger at Sebastien disappeared as all thought turned to winning.
Aurelie laced her fingers. ‘Each day will be different, some you’ll face challenges like we’ll have today, specifically organized in such a way that you must think on your feet. You’ll make perfume to submit to the judging panel, and be marked on originality, daring, risk taking, but of course the final product must still be desirable. You’ll partake of classes with masters in the world of perfumery. You’ll each be mentored exclusively by one of the Leclére staff. There’ll be excursions too, you can choose to come along or not. But we don’t want your time in Paris to be all about perfume, we are French after all. We invented long lunches and champagne made from stars. Life is about balance, just like perfume. So while you’re here, se hâter lentement; hurry slowly.’
Cheers rang out among the group. Knowing we’d be able to sightsee in the city of light was a bonus. I turned the phrase over, hurry slowly, it was so apt for the French and the way they stretched the hours to suit their lifestyle.
After a nudge from his maman, Sebastien said, ‘And weekends you’ll have free. We hope you’ll use that time to explore our beautiful city and partake in all sorts of pleasurable activities.’ With that he gazed straight at me, we locked eyes, and I willed myself not to look away as a shiver of longing raced through me.
‘An incredible opportunity,’ I managed, my voice too high. Damn it! I coughed for effect, hoping they’d think it was just my faux flu affecting me, and not the laser beam of Sebastien’s eyes seeing into the depths of my soul. Why did he have to zone in on me?
‘Sadly, at the end of each week the contestant with the lowest score will be sent home.’
Please not me. I had to win, everything depended on it.
‘Who is my mentor?’ Clementine asked.
Aurelie took a sheet of paper from her pocket and matched the contestants with their mentors. When she came to my name, she said, ‘Del, you have Sebastien. Mentoring, however, will not begin officially until after you’ve submitted your first perfume. We believe this will give your mentors time to see what you can do alone and under pressure and then