FEMMES DE MYSTÉREby

Each their own, each harbouring their own story,
their own mystery.

“Femmes De Mystére”

As the nights grow longer, we bid adieu to the sweetness of asummer day. The crowns of the trees in the city turn red, giving a sense of a city on fire. We see women dressed in feathery furs, their beauty now hidden, creating a sense of something evoked, provoking a desire of a mystery sought. The streets of Montmartre, filled with passion, music and art. A promise of a better time whispered by the air. So passionate yet sentimental, swayed with chanson and filled with memory of sweet perfume. A sweetness desired, but not yet found. A sweetness that lies in the decadent rooms of Cabarets. A sweetness that belongs to the enticing creatures of the underworld. Unearthing a world long forgotten, but one lustily sought, we see women, each their own. No longer hidden in furs, but blooming in dresses of feathers, lace and gems. Their sweetness is intoxicating, each one evoking a different memory and emotion. One carrying the scent of a wild rose, another that of a blossoming meadow and one of a moonlit forrest. Each their own, each harbouring their own story, their own mystery. A mystery we long to reveal, but never can. Can we?

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