When I apply Mandy Aftel‘s Tango many things happen at once.
The most impressive thing, for somebody like me who loves writing and loves writing about perfume even more, is the fact that it overwhelms me with a multitude of emotions and images that conspire to effectively shut me up (for once ).
Luckily there are people out there who can summon the words to describe Tango, please let me refer to their brilliant reviews, all different, showing how Tango resonates with different people of different levels. I’ll add the links at the end of my non-review.
But first let me describe with other means than words what Tango does to me, how Tango smells and why Tango is akin to a drug or better: medicine.
The dignified way this woman says Goodbye to her former life, her country, her freedom moves me immensely… that is how Tango smells to me.
The determined look on her face, the concentration, the tension… that is how Tango smells to me.
The harsh voice, the aggression, the passion, the submission, the devastation, the pain and the deterioration of love all captured in the exact moves of a tango… that is how Tango smells to me.
Tango, the dance, is the combination of harsh and soft, quick and slow, aggressive and passive, the fusion of extremes into one perfect movement, the fusion of two people into one perfect being. For four minutes another creature exists. All rhythm, all music, all passion. Tango is transformative. The dance and the perfume.
Tango is devastating. Devastatingly, heartrendingly beautiful. Smell it.