Sucreabeille

I'm a Delicate Fucking Flower

$45
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It’s finally here: it’s ladies’ night. Well, really, it’s “OMG we’re finally all going to get together for a night out and it’s been like three years and life is hectic but dammit we’re doing something nice for ourselves and getting together without spouses or kids even if there’s little chance we’ll be awake past 11PM” night, but that doesn’t roll off the tongue quite so easily. The point is, you and your friends are finally out together, celebrating just being alive and together. You in particular are in dire need of this night, as you’re in the midst of a contentious, messy breakup situation that’s just been stressing you out and making you sad. Your friends sent you the most gorgeous bouquet of lilies and freesia to help you feel a little better, which had precipitated you calling them all and demanding to go out. You need a night to dance your face off, and then take the rest of the weekend to recover in your bed with a lot of takeout because you aren’t as young as you used to be, and a few hours of fun takes several days of recovery. You’re a delicate fucking flower, dammit.

After a rousing dinner with too much wine, you pile into several different car share rides and make your way to what is supposedly the hottest new club in town. Sure, it’s only 9:01 and they opened at 9:00, but there’s still a decent crowd inside. Yes, it’s mostly people who are clearly older than 21, but those are your people now, so who cares? At least you can be sure you’ll know most of the music being played.

Two ill-advised shots of tequila later, you and your group are tearing up the dance floor. Beyonce who? You ARE the single lady, and you’re gonna prove it to the whole room. Sure enough, all eyes are on your rowdy gang of drunken dancers going absolutely bananas to every single song that comes on, screaming the lyrics at each other with bleary eyes and arms waving in the air. You step back to the bar to get another drink, and a cute dude sidles up to you at the bar. He offers to buy you a drink, and you acquiesce, although the back of your brain is trying to alert you to something. He looks a lot like your ex, and you momentarily tear up. It's just a habit, and being drunk doesn't help regulate your emotions. As he orders a round of shots, and you discreetly wipe your eyes, you feel him smack and then grab your ass handily. Oh. Oh, NO.

You sober up in an instant, and see your friends start to come running as you forcibly remove his hand and throw the shot in his face, and the glass on the ground. “I AM A DELICATE FUCKING FLOWER, YOU BUTTMUNCH,” you scream. Your hand is in the air to slap him when your friends arrive. One pulls you away while the others get in his face. “WE’RE ALL DELICATE FUCKING FLOWERS, YOU ABSOLUTE COCKWOMBLE!” you hear one of your friends yell above the other ones screaming at him for being inappropriate and disgusting. You see the bouncer coming over to figure out what’s happening, and calmly walk up to him and explain that you were manhandled against your will by a man you don’t know and never want to touch you again, thank you. The guy is vehemently defending himself, trying to give some explanation about your outfit and the alcohol, and the bouncer calmly tells him to shut the fuck up and drags him outside. Another group of people, also clearly on a similar night out, buy you all a round of drinks, and your two groups merge. “To being delicate fucking flowers!” you all toast together, then head back out to the dance floor. One shitty man being shitty is not going to spoil your entire night. Your hangover might ruin the rest of your weekend, but that was a problem for the future. For now, all you want to do is dance.

Scent Notes: Monoi Tiare, gardenias, freesia, and lily of the valley create a lush floral opening, then step back, and the deep rosewood and copal resin comes forward. This is a supremely rich floral that darkens to a woody, resinous finish.

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