I have several fragrances. And each one is me, but a little different.

One is light, almost invisible. It is a little minty, cool, and quickly disappears from the skin. I use it on days when I don't want to attract attention. When I want to be the background, the shadow, as if I weren't there. This smell is like a blanket of invisibility. It leaves no trace. And that's its power.

The other is thick, deep, trailing. It doesn't ask permission, it comes first. And it stays long after I've already left. I wear it when I know: today I will be felt. When I don't just want to be - I want to be remembered. It always says more for me than words.

And there is another one. Intimate. The one that I never apply to clothes. Only to the skin. Only to those parts of the body that can be touched. I choose it not for everyone - but only for someone. For moments when intimacy is not accidental.

Fragrances are not just smells. They are memories. They are internal states that you cannot explain, but you recognize immediately. One scent can take you back to the same night. Another can remind you of the same man. Another can give you goosebumps because you remember what happened after.

My fragrance is not a brand. It is not a bottle. It is my story. What is not visible, but tangible.