Vanilla Sky

Whipped cream foam, a suede jacket, the scent of cedar, blood orange, the lyrics burn-baby-burn as your heart floats in a fluffy vanilla sky, the night you fall in love in the Meatpacking District.

Mouthfuls of purple rain, a taste of blackcurrant and honey, a blooming orange blossom, rapture in an 8-track, that sacred second between songs, violet and amber lights, a cyclone on the dance floor.

A warm shock to the system, honey-coloured light, a red-apple heart with an electric synth beat, violet eyes, a utopia for misfits, for wallflowers to bloom, almond tree blossoms on a crisp autumn night.

The blink of a Godardian eyelash, the pages of Proust, smoky curls of incense, the spark of a lemon drop cocktail, Parisian tongues and art deco jade, amber flames crackling to the sound of spilled champagne.

A warm fever pitch, swirling vanilla clouds, a peach-flavoured cocktail, the balmy breeze of paradise, a Mapplethorpe flower, elegant, depraved and frozen in time, a night that you don’t want to end.

Three legendary clubs that thrived in the 1980s, brought together in this candle trio to transport you back to their decade.