Sono Raffaella responsabile profumeria in Puntoettore, mi piacerebbe lavorare con voi. Come posso contattarvi? potete scrivermi a raffaella.pisani@puntoettore.it

my mother's perfume ; she's always been very elegant and very french, and she wore a lot of flower by kenzo and of opium by ysl. it smelled like the epitome of elegance, poise, and a sort of natural feminity that wasn't curbed, restricted or made to fit in a nice little box. it was the perfume rolling off the throat and bouncing on the skin, hiding in the folds of cloth and carried by the air.

The scent of an antique shop always catches in my throat like nostalgia. The scent of a former love, to me. A mix of old dust, aged cosmetics, old books, and wood mahogany furniture, that feels less like a store and more like coming home. Every piece I’ve brought back carries a quiet weight, as though it was simply waiting for me to find it again. Looking at them now, it’s hard to believe they ever had a life without me. They feel as familiar as an old memory, like something lost long ago that finally made its way back. They are things that belonged to someone else long before they belonged to me, yet the moment I hold them, it feels as if they were always meant to be mine. @notmyfirstlobotomy

Turpentine, ‘kind of getting there’ rabbit skin glue, MDF shavings, prawn salad in a plastic tub, machine grease, steel filings, and that dangerously strong, heavy-on-the-solvents & VOCs grey emulsion paint they do the floors with

aged wood, coal, iris, ink, black tea, linen, worn leather. madonna in a fur coat.