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Paris 1978 and another endless night in one of the world’s wildest nightclubs.
Follow it’s powdery scent.
Downstairs it’s a Negroni Yuzu for her and a Whisky Sage for me.
Ribbons of tobacco smoke weave their magic.
Leaning on the cedar wood bar, I watch her moving on the dance floor.
Wafts of myrrh, vanilla, patchouli and oriental rose go to my head.
Though I close my eyes for a second, the Bains Douches never sleeps.