Sweet water with vague apricot and flowers.

Lily-of-the-valley blooms a half hour in, about a handspan off the skin, while the wet fruit stays close. Lasts the morning on skin and forever on clothes–even after laundry day, cotton still holds the watery musk.

It’s too refined for me. I want to dirty it up with salt or civet or something–my Love Island is messier than this.

The band Isle of Love is out of Warsaw, Poland.  I have no idea what they’re singing about, but it’s a pretty tune.