Я

The morning after the midnight twelve grapes ritual begins with gaps in memory. TOSKOVAT' Я smells like vague evidence of celebration: fruit, champagne, someone else's powder on the skin, and flowers that have already begun to dry.

Lychee, mango, and twelve champagne grapes open juicy and radiant, but clove immediately introduces a warm, slightly sharp spicy note. The merriment is therefore not entirely innocent; in the background, you can already feel the fatigue and blurred edges of the night.

David-Lev Jipa-Slivinschi combines carnation, ylang-ylang, gardenia, heliotrope, and iris in the floral part. Nutmeg adds a dry warmth, and the face powder accord makes the whole picture intimate — like the trace of two foundations that have blended upon contact.

On the skin, the fruity clamor subsides, and suede, tolu balsam, and sand emerge. The dry flowers are no longer a fresh bouquet but what remains on the table the next day. Musk and vanilla round out the trail, but do not erase its dusty, somewhat melancholic texture.

This is not a carefree fruity gourmand nor a neat floral perfume. If you expect tropical cheerfulness from mango and lychee, the powder, sand, and dry petals might seem almost ghostly to you. It is precisely in this transition from celebration to oblivion that its meaning lies.

Towards the end, you no longer know if it's a kiss, spilled champagne, or powder from someone's cheek that remains on the skin. Я ends with a sentence from its own story: the feeling is young again, but last night's events still lack a clear sequence.