Mendittorosa Talismans Albatros

It is a wind of Freedom, without fear, hesitation and shame. A cerulean horizon that welcomes those, who want to open their wings. 

Versi is an olfactory study in three chapters. Versi explores and enjoys the wonderful correspondences between Perfume and Poetry. The third and last of the three studies is Albatros Eau de Parfum inspired by the poem of the same name by Charles Baudelaire (1821-1867). The poem was published in the collection Les Fleurs du mal. It is indeed the second poem of the collection (first edition: 1857). It is found in the first of the books six sections, which has the title: Spleen et Idéal. 

Formula: Anne Sophie Baeghel 

Studio and project: Stefania Squeglia E au de Parfum 20% 100ml/ 3.4 fl OZ Natural Spray

THE CONCEPT When you talk about Poetry, you must include the Poets. The Poet is the one, who does. The individual to become Poet. The symbol of all humanity. The poet is a person using the human wings literally speaking. The wings open our sensitivity. Unfortunately, we often forget both our wings and our sensitivity. Remember that it is the sensitivity that makes us fly high, but also the wings that can make us stumble, so we will be laughed at. No one has ever described such ambivalence better than Charles Baudelaire in his poem Albatros. We are all Albatros. We can soar majestically in the air of life and awkwardly stumble upon our own wings. We arouse admiration but also derision. Because some people have forgotten their Albatros.

THE POEM The Albatross Translations by Eli Siegel Often, to amuse themselves the men of the crew Lay hold of the albatross, vast birds of the seas— Who follow, sluggish companions of the voyage, The ship gliding on the bitter gulfs. Hardly have they placed them on the planks, Than these kings of the azure, clumsy and shameful, Let, piteously, their great wings in white, Like oars, drag at their sides. This winged traveler, how he is awkward and weak! He, lately so handsome, how comic he is and uncomely! Someone bothers his beak with a short pipe, Another imitates, limping, the ill thing that flew! The poet resembles the prince of the clouds Who is friendly to the tempest and laughs at the bowman; Banished to ground in the midst of hootings, His wings, those of a giant, hinder him from walking.