The Scent and The Siren

‎♡‧₊˚ten ‎♡‧₊˚

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𓆩♡𓆪 𝐭𝐞𝐧𓆩♡𓆪

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𓆩♡𓆪 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 @𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐞 𓆩♡𓆪

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦: 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭, 𝐥𝐨𝐥

"Marylenne has certainly outdone herself by picking up this dress for me, and so have you, Celia, with this wonderful non-makeup dewy look." I find myself surveying my reflection critically in the full-length mirror as the stylist applies a healthy dose of highlighter on my toned shoulders.

The ultra-leggy strapless champagne silk Alexandre Vauthier Couture clavicle-baring satin gown captures a major Old Hollywood glamor with a pretty epic thigh-high slit and a sculpted corset. It has been topped off with a sparkling cushion cut 180-carat sapphire stone set with over 28 carats of pavé diamond necklace from Bulgari's high jewelry collection and 4" crystal-embellished Louboutin stilettos. I could have used this evening of the weekend binge-watching some show with Reuben sandwiches and a lot of dirty martinis. I couldn't, though, because I am to attend a glitzy charity fundraiser.

"You're always meant to be the Belle of the Ball. It's your incredible genetics that do the job if I am being honest. We have just done the bare minimum." She gushes, doing a quick scan of my usual minimal makeup that comprises a vibrant scarlet pout, a dramatic cat-eye winged liner, silver eyeshadow, and a light coat of mascara. She sweeps a blush from the ear down the cheekbone towards the mouth and adds a little to my chin. "I've worked with the Hollywood A-listers, and trust me when I say this, your skin is a dream canvas for every makeup artist. All it needed was a touch of gloss and a hint of blush to create dreamy dewy skin."

"You shouldn't be overcharging me for allowing you to paint this dream canvas of yours in that case," I murmur on a teasing note, pointing my finger at my face, making her laugh.

"What a bitch." She laughs.

"I love what you've done to my hair," I speak, gently touching my locks that are no longer sleek blonde for the first time in the past 29 years but brunette, styled in soft vintage waves that are parted on the side. "I thought it'd look weird. I've never been not-blonde, but this is amazing."

"What did I say? Blonde or Brunette. Everything settles naturally on you. You're a god's creation, and I am jealous." Celia circles me to assess her work. She stuffs the Judith Leiber clutch I'm supposed to carry along with my usual Rouge Dior 999, a compact, and other essentials before turning to applaud her glam team of five artists standing at a distance behind us with a clap. "Good job, you guys. Is there anything else I can help you with, Juliette?"