Wandering around on a recent rainy Sunday, a friend and I stepped into Una, a tiny shop on the working class side of town. The clothing was tremendously chic, all Italian fabrics and clever design. In a different life, when my womanly figure turns gamine and my penchant for nipped waists and rhinestones fades, I’ll have one of each on the rack. The jewelry was fabulous, too, and I’m saving up for a bronze Monica Castiglioni ring. But what really pleased me, was that in this shop — this little shop that could fit inside my living room —was a row of Etat Libre d’Orange perfumes.
Forget the rain, I was ecstatic. They didn’t have my two favorites, Jasmin et Cigarette (“We could never sell that here, people wouldn’t get it,” the owner told me later) and Like This, but Vraie Blonde sat in front, and several fragrances I wanted to get to know better lined up behind it. One of them was Fat Electrician Eau de Parfum. I took home a sample…
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