A Quote by Christian Dior

Long after one has forgotten what a woman wore, the memory of her perfume lingers. — © Christian Dior
Long after one has forgotten what a woman wore, the memory of her perfume lingers.
The appeal of perfume is that it is at once ephemeral and empowering. It creates a shimmering invisible armor that lingers in a room long after its wearer has gone and infuses our imagination with a subtle power, hinting at a hidden identity.
The incidence of memory is like light from dead stars whose influence lingers long after the events themselves.
Perfume follows you; it chases you and lingers behind you. It's a reference mark. Perfume makes silence talk.
The morality code that remains after the religion that produced it is rejected is like the perfume that lingers in an empty bottle.
it always seems to me as if the lavender was a little woman in a green dress, with a lavender bonnet and a white kerchief. She's one of those strong, sweet, wholesome people, who always rest you, and her sweetness lingers long after she goes away.
The best fragrance is the scent of water, the fragrance of dew and rain falling on plants. Water is the essential element, a source of life and energy. A perfume that, like a garment, moves to suit the woman, her skin. A perfume that embraces a woman.
I have known her longer, my smile said. True, you have been inside the circle of her arms, tasted her mouth, felt the warmth of her, and that is something I have never had. But there is a part of her that is only for me. You cannot touch it, no matter how hard you might try. And after she has left you I will still be here, making her laugh. My light shining in her. I will still be here long after she has forgotten your name.
I bought Jayne Mansfield's mansion in L.A. after her death. I had met her in England and remembered her perfume. When I moved in, I could smell her, and I saw her apparition.
As for her perfume, it was the kind you only noticed after she'd left a room, not while she was still in it. Even then you didn't realize it was perfume, you only wondered what had made you think of her just then.
I like to put perfume on my pulse points, but I also love the way you can sense it - there is an atmosphere that comes from releasing a scent in to the world - it's a primal thing. I spray around me, not just on me, and it lingers in the room after I leave.
There was a basket at her feet. She reached into it and lifted out the head of a young woman, a marquise. She wore Bourbon white to her death, but wears the tricolor now - white cheeks, blue lips, red dripping from her neck. Long live the revolution.
Long after Mae West is forgotten, her words will live on.
A woman's perfume tells more about her than her handwriting.
I'm still willing to continue living with the burden of this memory. Even though this is a painful memory, even though this memory makes my heart ache. Sometimes I almost want to ask God to let me forget this memory. But as long as I try to be strong and not run away, doing my best, there will finally be someday...there will be finally be someday I can overcome this painful memory. I believe I can. I believe I can do it. There is no memory that can be forgotten, there is not that kind of memory. Always in my heart.
The heart is long, very long in receiving the convictions that is forced upon it by reason... affection still lingers in the Bosom, even after esteem has taken its flight.
Growing up I never had a perfume. I was like oh, one day when I'm grownup and have money I'm going to wear perfume. I had one perfume and I would save it for really, really, really special occasions. Which meant I never actually wore it. So now it's one of those things like, I can wear perfume everyday. I can afford to buy another one, I'm really lucky that I can. Now when I have nice stuff I don't save it anymore, I try to use it.
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