Jazz Age Fragrance- rum, amber accord, glowing cigarettes smoked from a bakelite holder, mahogany bar wood, elegant leather club chairs, bananas from Josephine Baker’s banana skirt, and sensual violet.
 
I wanted to include the story behind the scent because this is another scent of mine on Etsy that keeps getting deactivated due to "jewelry length issues". I don't sell jewelry, nor have I ever, but it seems that some of my scents on there keep getting deactivated because of it. The story behind it is much longer than the one below. 
 
So, back in the real Jazz Age, think of big baubles and long strands of pearls knocking against each other, worn by gals with bobbed hair and their lips, a blackened plummy hue against purposely paled skin. Silk stockings were rolled up, just past the knees on skinny legs. Dim and dark speakeasies were filled with smoke from glowing cigarillos, cocktail glasses clinking while the bands played on. Guys and gals were doing the Charleston to a feverish pitch. A first rate bar made of smooth mahogany wood and elegant leather chairs for patrons to lounge in added to the atmospheric vibes. A place. A way of life to some, when it must’ve seemed like the world was fading amongst financial crisis for many. 
 
What would it have been like to live during this time? I don’t know. When I was a young sprite, I loved going to a place called ‘The Roaring 20’s Club’. I wasn’t even old enough to drink or even be in a bar, which made it resemble more of a ‘speakeasy’ for my old, young heart. But, I wasn’t there for the drinks. It was the darkened room full of people, and the band. The music of the 20’s was my passion for going there. It was smoke filled and boozy, scents that lingered on your clothing for days. It was laid back and the beat was swell. I wore black velvet and most everyone else wore black too. Good times. Fun times. This place was in keeping with it’s name. The club wasn’t advertised. You literally had to go to a building, to the basement, where the door looked just like any other door in a building. A person had to come get you in order to go in. It was mysterious. It was my ideal ’20’s’ hangout.
 
This was the Jazz Age, with the scent of golden boozy rum, Josephine Baker dancing in her infamous banana skirt, doing the banana dance. Flappers danced and smoked their cigarettes held in jade smoking holders. And afterwards, for a quick rest, sitting in elegant leather club chairs, and most everyone of them wearing some variety of perfume with violet undertones. This scent presents as a primitive sensation. A certain pep ensues and allows one to dance all night long. After all, what can be more primitive than the sense of scent?
 
On my skin, Jazz Age starts out rummy with a high end leather undertone. Throughout the day and evening it evolves into a soft banana mixed with rum, and then dries down to a soft cereal ambery note on my skin.