Cocobolo commences with a very discordant beginning; it crashes and booms with ominous brooding tension, akin to the orchestral tuning and the menacing overture of a storm coming. Lights dim and curtains rise on dark wood paneling. Cut glass chandeliers. Pressed metal ceilings. Plush wool carpets. Magnificent red roses in enormous bouquets. Polished brass fittings. Hushed luxury. History. Leather. Design and Prestige. Exemplary discretion and service.
Checking into the Waldorf Astoria, you take a deep breath. Its just like coming home. Some things are worth their weight in Krug (1928…) Cocobolo.
Venturing from saturnine to sanguine, this sexy, sepia scent conjures a deeply private reverie, a secret chamber of muted hues, dappled light, erotic whispers. Red Rose a la Grande. Herein dwells Disraeli’s dark horse; never before noticed, surging silently forward from the shadows in triumphant victory past the grandstand in elegant stealth.
Indian rose absolute, Texas cedarwood, Amyris, orris root, cacao, Sumatran patchouli, benzoin, Portuguese labdanum, Mysore sandalwood, vanilla, and verve, baby, verve…
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