ROSE MONOTONEClaire Ligent isolates rose oxide and freezes the rest of the bouquet out. What you wear is a flower with the singing scraped off it. Brazilian pink pepper bites cold in the first breath, then a cellophane accord crinkles against it, glassy. Peruvian ambrette stiffens in like cotton pulled off a winter line. Beneath the rose, the lychee stays chilled the way a steel counter keeps the cold of a room before anyone enters it at seven. By mid morning the

Each two-millilitre vial carries the same juice as the full bottle: the same perfumer

sweet enough to shut your eyes

blurred at the edge

taut and tanned

What you paid for the set credits back against the bottle you keep

amber feeds on the ambient warmth

The scent recoils between greenhouse and darkroom

cold not romantic

Six hours later

dense and slow

Claire Liégent strips both back in layers

Spun sugar and buttered notes pack the middle