Name: HEATHENS, COWBOYS AND THE SANTA ANA WINDS
Brand: Discothèque
SKU: DQ-HEATHENS-EDP50
Price: 130.0 GBP
Availability: InStock

Select Size

50 ML£130

8 ML£37

1986, LA

Palm trees, a wild sweet breeze, fortunes told, green tea leaves, naked hips, Freudian slips, loose lips, sandalwood embers in warm amber sunsets, a city of angels with no angels, a haven for heathens, cowboys and nymphos.

EXTRAORDINARY FRAGRANCE

Our fragrances are formulated and handcrafted in the UK with a dedication to exceptional quality. Clean, vegan fragrances made without parabens, phthalates or EDTA. Created with a conscience for the environment from the finest ingredients and produced with the least environmental impact possible.

THE BOTTLE

A disco ball with sharp edges. Glass and chrome mirrors collide to form our signature bottle, made to reflect you as much as your scent does. A collectible inspired by iconic moments under glittering lights, where every glance and movement is magnified.

HEATHENS, COWBOYS AND THE SANTA ANA WINDS

Top

Palmarosa
Amyris
Sweet Grass
Tea Leaf

Heart

Sandalwood
Cedarwood
Cardamom

Base

Golden Amber
White Musk
Suede

The Club: Helena’s

LOS ANGELES
1985 - 1991

Helena’s, a private members-only nightclub, opened in 1985 on the corner of LA’s Rampart Boulevard and West Temple Street. Founded by actress and belly dancer Helena Kallianiotes, it enforced one of the strictest no-photo policies in the city, becoming a place where LA glamour could meet unrestrained debauchery. Marlon Brando, Madonna, Jack Nicholson, Meryl Streep, and Prince were among the regulars who found refuge there. By 1991, its doors had closed, but the stories of its undocumented nights live on.

The Playlist: Listen to the music of Heathens, Cowboys, and the Santa Ana Winds

CURRENTLY PLAYING: HEATHENS, COWBOYS AND THE SANTA ANA WINDS

Sequins and suede were bathed in pink light, naked hips and nude shoulders, belly dancers in gauze. Gold-ringed toes teased legs under tables, and keys were tossed from camel-coloured coupes. No cameras, no press once you entered these doors, just amorous gestures and Freudian slips from loose lips that sipped warm amber whiskey. Diamond bracelets were slid off delicate wrists and left in the cardamom soufflé. Sandalwood burned and fortunes were read from floating green tea leaves in the Santa Ana winds. Palm trees swayed in wild sweet breezes in this haven for heathens, and cowboys and nymphos. In a City of Angels, it was the place with no angels, but always sunny and seventy degrees.