L’Eau de Parfum: A Waking Dream in Scent

Written by Ally Santos

The tent rises from the ground like something out of a dream, its curved blue peaks reaching toward the night sky, a portal into a world where the impossible becomes real. Inside, the air hums with anticipation, the scent of warm bodies, the cool steel of the rigging, the faint whisper of something floral carried in from the wind. Then the lights dim, the hush settles, and the Luzia show begins.

Photo from the author’s album

But before the show, there was the gathering—a different kind of magic, one woven not from acrobatics and illusions, but from scent, from stories, from the shared language of those who understand that fragrance is an experience, a memory, a feeling suspended in time. On March 12, 2025, at Randall’s Island Park in New York, fragrance lovers, industry insiders, and passionate scent explorers came together to celebrate L’Eau de Parfum, a creation inspired by Cirque du Soleil’s artistry.

To be surrounded by fragrance lovers—people who inhale the air like they are drinking in poetry, who speak of notes and accords the way others speak of music or color—was intoxicating. We discussed the nuances of scent with the same passion as artists discussing their brushstrokes. When L’Eau de Parfum was introduced, there was a hush, a collective leaning in, as though we were about to witness something ephemeral take shape. And perhaps we were because L’Eau de Parfum is a performance of its own.

Crafted by Alexis Grugeon, a perfumer from DSM-Firmenich, it carries the same dreamlike energy as Luzia, a Cirque du Soleil production. Grugeon, known for his ability to create textured and expressive compositions, has woven together a scent that moves, breathes, and evolves. The fragrance opens with a whimsical sweetness, like a warm breeze carrying the scent of freshly popped popcorn and the soft sweetness of cotton candy—playful and comforting. Then, the crispness of apple and bergamot enters, fresh and lively, evoking the excitement of new beginnings. As the fragrance unfolds, deeper notes of caramel and butter emerge, creamy and indulgent, like the warmth of a caramelized treat shared with friends. It is a scent that surprises, balancing lightness with depth, much like the performance of Luzia itself.

Much like Luzia, L’Eau de Parfum is not linear. It twists and turns, slipping between freshness and depth, between the familiar and the surreal. Grugeon’s touch is unmistakable—he does not just create scents, he composes them like performances, each note an acrobatic leap through space. Just as Luzia defies gravity, L’Eau de Parfum defies expectations. It lingers, shifting with time, never quite settling, always in motion.

And then, the show.

Photo from the author’s album

Water falls from the sky, effortless and weightless, bending and shaping itself into impossible forms. A woman dances through the rain without getting wet, a hummingbird flits between golden marigolds, the desert breathes in long, slow waves of light and shadow. It is a Mexico that does not exist, not in the way the maps would tell you—but in the way dreams do, in the way memories distort into something more vivid than reality. I watch, spellbound, the scent of wet earth and something bright—citrus?—lingering in my mind, though I am not sure if it is real or if I am only imagining it.

The show ends, but I remain seated for a moment longer, unwilling to let go of the illusion. The scent still clings to me, a whisper of something just beyond reach. I close my eyes, inhale, and for a fleeting second, I am still there—under the falling water, in the golden desert, in the dream.