Saturday, February 05, 2011

Now That I Have My Nose Back . . .





. . . the scented life goes on.

I just spent a period of time, albeit brief, suffering under the crushing heel of a sinus virus. Thank goodness for the neti pot or I'd still be a congested mess. I potted four times a day for three days straight until things began to clear up, then sat unhappily for another two days with limited sense of smell. It's been a week since it all began and I can smell -- boy, can I smell. The first aroma to greet my nose upon walking outside this morning was the love spell sprayed on the trunk of my umbrella tree by a heart sick tom. He's a shabby gray beast who serenades the neighborhood late into night with his throaty, warbling call. Sounds like drunk babies singing.

The next thing I smelled was the cold air tinged with the remnants of the fall crush which the local winery spreads thickly and evenly over a 20 acre parcel next to the winery. When the wind is just right, it smells of wino and juke joints, road houses and stripper clubs. Just what you want to fill your nose and lungs with first thing, right?

And the next thing I smelled? The sun. The warm, comforting aroma of sunlight on leaves, grass, concrete, metal. The freakin' sun. I opened the door, stepped into the sunlight, and could smell my skin warming, burning off the sleep. It was glorious. So glorious, in fact, I left all the doors and windows wide open, despite Tom and the wino's contributions, and despite the fact that it was a balmy 39 degrees Fahrenheit out, and I let the sun warmed air enter the house. The past few weeks have been dreary at best. Days and days of fog and schmootz and gray skies and temperatures hovering in the upper 30's day in and day out. Blah. And what's worse is my studio faces east, so I get just the morning sun, if it bothers to make an appearance, and the rest of the time the studio is dark and cold, something the tiny froo-froo leopard print and pink feather boa lamp can't illuminate no matter where I set it.

So being able to smell well again means that I have work ahead of me. Samples of perfumes from NBP's have accumulated on my desk awaiting their debut up my nose. There aren't enough days in February to evaluate or review them all ~ ha! This is going to take a while . . .

Other things in the land of Natural Botanical Perfumery: events, events, events! Lyn Ayre is conducting scent events throughout the year, challenges to current and becoming NBP's. More events are on the way, though from where they'll come is anyone's guess. Seems everyone is doing them, which is utterly cool. Educating the masses about NBP is what it's about, yeah? And the perfume. Always and only about the perfume. It seems mainstream has trickled into our small pond.

I was having a conversation with another NBP and we were discussing how few people outside our community have a clue what we're up to and it got me thinking about contacting and educating locals without a sales pitch -- okay, a vague sales pitch -- as the primary. I am considering conducting a poll of random folks in the Tower District about what their knowledge of NBP is, and if they'd be interested in learning more. It would help if they wore perfume regularly as well. The Tower is pretty progressive, so I wouldn't be surprised if one or two people knew about NBP. It's an exciting prospect to contact and educate people who may have an interest in this art form, even if it is on a street corner in front of a tea house. My local compatriots and I have cooked up a little perfumed tea party we plan to unveil some time in May 2011. The location is chosen, a beautiful country garden with big shady trees, lots of thick grass and flowers in abundance. The food? Perfumed cakes, cookies and scones, fragrant sweet and savory sandwiches, and delectable aromatic teas. We're going to "fun it up" by asking everyone in attendance to wear their most insanely gorgeous, weird and wacky hat with a perfumed prize for the best hat in the garden. More planning is in order.

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