In the 1992 movie Scent of a Woman, Al Pacino, playing a blind, cranky aesthete, walks across a college campus in autumn. He and his companion cross paths with a woman and talk politics for a moment.
Al Pacino’s nostrils quiver. “Fleurs de Rocaille,” he says (in a terrible accent).
“Yes,” she replies.
“Flowers from a brook.”
As Pacino walks away, he says to his companion, “Don’t tell me. About five feet seven, auburn, with brown eyes….”