The Secret Ways of Perfume Read Free Page B

back to the relationship. Now that she could see clearly, she realized it had existed only because she had convinced herself it did. No, what was really devastating was suddenly finding herself with nothing. No plans, no ambition, no thoughts, no certainty.
    Yes, she decided, going out with Monique wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
    â€œYou’ve handled worse, Elena,” she muttered, standing up and heading to the bathroom.
    Half an hour later, she was making her way through the courtyard of the old Florentine station that was home to Pitti Fragranze, the most important event in international artistic perfumery. It had been a long time since she’d visited this kingdom of essences.
    Monique walked toward her, kissed her three times on the cheeks and dragged her inside. She was wearing a very simple black silk dress, which she had paired with red patent stilettos. Tall, slim and exotic,Monique’s quick, sinewy movements revealed her past as a model; but her beauty was all in her caramel skin and the mass of tight black curls spilling halfway down her back. To say she was beautiful was an understatement.
    As they walked side by side, Elena looked down at her own flip-flops, denim skirt and pink floral shirt, and gave a glum shake of her head.
    â€œI’ve already picked up the tickets. Put this on,” Monique said, handing her a badge.
    â€œNarcissus?” Elena asked, staring at the name tag.
    â€œ
Oui.
Now you’re my . . . what shall we call you? Assistant, that’s it.”
    Right, of course. To look at her, nobody would have thought she had anything to do with Narcissus, one of the most prestigious artistic perfume houses in Paris. Monique had worked there for almost a year now, and she loved the place. The most chic store in all of Paris, she said.
    Chic, indeed. It wasn’t somewhere Elena would ever have felt comfortable. Her style was simple, and not at all sophisticated. She was twenty-eight but still as slender as a teenager, with big green eyes shining out from her perfectly clear skin. Her long blond hair accentuated her naturally pale complexion. Her real strong point, though, was her mouth: it was too large, but when she decided to open it into a smile, it was beautiful.
    She’d never taken much care with her appearance; she was much more interested in practicality—and, generally, she thought she’d reached a good compromise between the two. At that moment, however, she felt deeply inadequate. Side by side, she and Monique were complete opposites in terms of class and elegance. Her friend, however, didn’t seem to register these details as she walked alongside Elena, pointing out one stand after another, bombarding her with questions and listening carefully to her answers.
    Elena looked around again and was relieved to see that plenty ofother people were casually dressed. Comforted, she pulled her shoulders back and held her head high. After all, she told herself, posture is what really counts.
    As soon as they walked into the main room, Monique suddenly stopped, closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.
    â€œThat perfume has a soul, Elena,” she whispered. “And I want it. Can you smell that?”
    Of course she could smell it. Everyone could smell it. Each person was immersed in one specific scent—the one that, more than any other, stimulated something ancestral in their memory, evoking the past in a vivid and immediate way that almost transcended the relentless passage of time.
    As the two friends moved between the various stands, separated by transparent walls, Elena was surrounded by intense, penetrating fragrances. In spite of herself she was soon swept up by them, analyzing them one by one, trying to guess which and how many elements they were composed of. It was a while since she’d tried; in fact, for a long time, she’d deliberately avoided anything from the world that made up her past. Now, however, the temptation to