I moved to London when I was 17. My very first retail job was in Liberty - an amazing place to work - primarily because you felt like an extra in a film about Henry VIII.
I moved to London when I was 17. My very first retail job was in Liberty – an amazing place to work – primarily because you felt like an extra in a film about Henry VIII.
The floors creaked and every nook and cranny was taken up with product from renowned names and hard-to-find brands – all of them fitted perfectly within the old Tudor walls.
Last week I had to pop into Liberty for business reasons – made even more pleasurable by Banana Republic moving in across the street (don’t even get me started) and my trusty old favourite did not disappoint.
I had to go through the Beauty Room – which although tightly packed as always DOES now have Anne Semonin – MA.J.O.R. S.C.O.R.E. (more to follow at a later date) and then drifted into the fragrance section.
Dear. God.
The fragrance section in Liberty is enough to make grown women weep.
Every corner is covered in all the best fragrances from far and wide…
L’Artisan Parfumeur – Amber and Rose – preferably mixed
Le Labo - Jasmine, Rose, Vetiver - who cares - pick one!
Diptyque - Do Son - If I didn't know better I'd say it was French for 'divine'
Quelques Fleur - soft, floral and aahhhhh
Prada - Tubereuse- yes - I'm beginning to see a pattern also...
And then - you turn the corner thinking - I'll get to handbags -
much safer (??!!) and there in the distance lies the Holy Grail. Frederic. Bloody. Malle. And one of my all-time favourite scents: Lys Mediterranee
Ginger Lilies, Orange Blossom, Musk, Vanilla.... 'tis an olfactory orgasm. Yes. You heard me. Olfactory orgasm. After making sure that every part of my body was covered in said perfume (along with all of the above - yes - I sprayed them ALL) I made my way through the middle atrium to the lifts and headed for the 4th Floor - the bath and body shop. Lord. Have. Mercy.
The window was open and the entrance is downwind. The smell hit me in the face like a warm fuzzy haze of fruit. And soap. Fruity Soap. Beautifully packaged warm fruity soap. This was their main display:
The Italian brand Il Frutteto had a huge table full to the brim of every flavour imaginable for soap. Fig, and Almond, Citrus and Bergamot, Peach and Melon - all divine. But I came away with
the divine Pomegranate and Blackcurrant.
God it smells good. I bought it, took it home and said to my husband, 'God you HAVE to smell this soap I bought in Liberty today!' He smelt it, handed it back to me and said 'Excellent - you can use it to wash with now - you smell like a brothel.'
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