‘Honeysuckle, deceivingly innocent. To meet again. At last. Alone together, no one else, just the two of us. And this perfume that seems to purr “I am kindred-spirit”. A moment suspended in time, honeysuckle decked in impish innocence, a soupçon of smoked green tea. Moments of molecular mingling mean: we are but one.‘ – Infiniment Coty
