Download Summer Scent Subtitle 51
Totaly Benoit
Noon comes, the height of the day, and with it the scent of herbs and flowers, giving out their best. The star is red champaca, a new ingredient for us. This member of the magnolia family has beautiful bright flowers, whose scent captures our deep, plush midday fragrance with its shades of green tea, champagne, honey and nectar.
This very same complexity explains the subtle ways in which the scent will adapt to the wearer, and age in the bottle - a path dictated by the particular combinations of light and temperature that your fragrance experiences. We hope you find joy in this process.
I'm blown away - a sweet hay note really shines through for me, it's so pleasant. It dries down on my skin like a sweet tea, it's very transportative and feels exactly like the visuals. Pure art! Thank you!
I've just got my bottle and it reminds me of home! We used to have champaca in our garden. It's a totally different vibe than other perfumes I have. Very fresh and unique and dries down (to me) as some sort of fresh/floral skin scent - love it.
This really is a beautiful perfume. Perfumes smell different on each individual and also we each prefer different scents, spicy, woody, sweet etc. For me, this is just perfect. As for longevity, a few times yesterday in early evening I caught a whiff of the scent so it was very much still active. I loved everything that arrived with Summer 24.
There is something nostalgic about this fragrance. The citrus comes through but so does the warmth of evening sunlight as the sun sets in the field. The aromas of wildflowers swaying in the hot summer breeze also pierce through. This takes me back to a simpler time of homemade noodles, fresh lemonade and Sunday night family dinners.
This is perfect for me. Blends and brightens onto my skin so well. So clean! Very spicy with citrus herbs. Mentally clearing and stimulating. With a touch of meadow. Very refreshing on these hot sweaty days.
This scent is a walk through the meadow on a late summer evening. The pink peppercorn comes through with a delightful spice. It changes on your skin throughout the day. It turns warmer and a tad sweeter. I can't stop smelling my wrists. I can smell the citrus dance through the layers of notes on my skin. This scent is aromatherapy. It lingers on your skin. I could smell it after my shower!
Now it's summer again and I picked up one of my favorite series "summer scent" to rewatch it one more time. Wow! 2 years past since I first saw it but I still feel the same with this series. I love it for all things: song, scene, SSH, SYJ, plot, conflict, etc. They all are so romantic for me. I heard that so many people hate it cos of SYJ left her long relationship for her love at first sight. That said, I think she's so much innocent about love that she's not realised what true love is until she's met SSH. How can we blame her?
I'm so glad that I stumbled upon this thread! I really love Summer Scent, I've watch it many times, over and over again. The story, characters, music and the sceneries are simply unforgettable. Because of this drama, I want to visit Korea to see the Boseong Green Tea Plantation, Korea Botanical Garden and Deogyusan National Park.
I don't know why a lot wrote negative feed backs about this drama (anyway that's their opinions!). I think it's the best among the season dramas. I hope GMA Network (Philippines) will re-air it again!
my 1st experience was...not that pleasant...since i was younger back then (wanting an upbeat and fun drama at the time) ...but the 2nd and 3rd time watching it...it really touched me...maybe it's because i've grown mature as the years passed by...so my thoughts are much more deeper when it comes to this drama...
To be honest I was too new into Korean Drama and really did not understand alot of things inorder to appreciate this story. Now I know enough to realize it was really hurtful when MinWoo told JangAh never to forgive him. In other words, he was not going to love her but to continue to love HW even if it was wrong. Poor girl, even though she was shameless I can still feel a little of her pain .
The subtitle of Plenty, a book about what it's like to eat only food produced within a 100-mile radius, is "One Man, One Woman, and a Raucous Year of Eating Locally." But honestly, the year as described by Alisa Smith and her partner James Mackinnon couldn't have been less raucous.
But if Smith and Mackinnon are going to break from the pack and be stolid and prosaic, they should have done so a little more thoroughly. Their account leaves the reader longing for a Walden Pond accounting of their time and expenses. How much time did food preparation take compared with a normal year? How much more money did they spend? Was working in the garden hard? Did their social life suffer? What did a typical day look like?
Then there's the $11 honey. They buy this honey as a substitute for $2.59 worth of sugar. The marvelous, multihued, multiflavored honey (honey of which, says James, "it is not an overstatement to say the flavor exploded in my mouth") has been procured from a picturesque retired banker-turned-beekeeper on a daylong road trip-cum-shopping expedition. Their friend Ruben is along for the ride, and at the end of a long day he muses, "If grocery shopping were always like this, it wouldn't be a chore." This is one of the more hilarious sentences in the book. Because, of course, if you had to drive 30 miles "though the 'burbs, the industrial parks, the outer ring of big-box mosques, Buddhist mega-temples, and ticky-tacky churches [through] the tunnel that plunges under the main arm of the Fraser River" every time you needed sweetener, grocery shopping would soon seem like quite a chore. Especially if, as is the case in Vancouver, not every day is a deliriously perfect spring day with "chocolate-colored cats sunning themselves on the dikes." Or if you don't have a car.
Smith and Mackinnon address this argument briefly. Alisa goes to visit Sunny, a local eater in "pine country Minnesota" to prove that local eating is possible anywhere. As Alisa gives a mildly disdainful account of Sunny's friends' "fermentation experiments" with plums and "a jar of shaggy fungus in a muddy brown liquid" called mushroom tea, the reader feels a sudden kinship with Alisa. Yes, she's involved in this insane experiment, but it's not nearly as insane as some. Her life may be boring, but that's sort of the point. Ridiculous subtitle aside, you can do what she and James are doing and still have a normal life. In contrast, Sunny's small collective is preparing for the Mayan apocalypse in 2012. "It's so nice to meet someone who has the same values I do," she says, "but doesn't think the world is coming to an end."
There's a telling moment late in the book, when the authors have already achieved a measure of fame in the blog world for their experiment. They are invited to a chef's dinner to test out a new 100-mile tasting menu. The grapes that went into of the wines, the publicist sheepishly reveals, are actually from "nearly 200 miles away." "We just couldn't find a local red that had the strengths to pair with lamb," he says.
The authors, who are "trying to be agreeable about the red wine, murmured supportive nostrums." But they are dining amidst food critics who wind up getting the lamb course and its offending wine stricken from the menu. James chalks up the desire to do the thing properly, including the ban on 200-mile wine from the 100-mile menu, to "a sense of adventure." Which explains the increasingly absurd experiments in ethical eating underway elsewhere better than anything else I've heard.
Some of the escalations in uberethical eating at the haute cuisine level are just the slow dawning of inevitable conclusion from certain premises: The environmental illogic of importing Italian bottled water to a restaurant based around local produce has finally penetrated, with path-breaking Chez Panisse chef Alice Waters (no pun intended) recently announcing her intention to serve tarted-up tap water instead of their previous offering, imported Santa Lucia. (A great piece in Slate hits the nail on the head on the elitism angle here: "So long as only a few people were drinking Evian, Perrier, and San Pellegrino, bottled water wasn't perceived as a societal ill. Now that everybody is toting bottles of Poland Spring, Aquafina, and Dasani, it's a big problem.")
After that first pricey dinner, Alisa says, "This might not even be possible." It has taken the better part of a weekend day and 130 dollars to make this one meal. She is worried about price, something none of her competitors in the ethical stunt-eating field give more than a passing nod to in their accounts. But she's also worried about time. Even a freelance writer and a novelist have to work sometimes. The acquisition of three cases of corn takes up "one half of a precious Saturday." Of an outing for berries with a girlfriend, following by canning, she says, "Making jam had taken up all afternoon and evening, but the last thing I'd call it was work. It was living."
This is a legitimate point: Those who defend the pleasures and economies of modern life against the romanticizers of a zero-impact, local eating, fresh fruits and veggies past often overemphasize the soul-numbing drudgery of rural life. Picking berries and turning them into jam while chatting with a friend has been one of womankind's great pleasures for centuries. But just because it isn't awful doesn't mean that it isn't time-consuming labor. And in modern times, laying a hand on local berries in the first place can be pricey, U-Pick or not.
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