Saturday, September 17, 2011

Magic of Scent

I really do love what I do. The scents, the formulating, the calculating, the wonder when it all turns out right, the absolute shock and disappointment when it does not. I love walking into my cluttered little studio and picking up a whiff of dark, aged Indonesia vetyver from the drop that slid down the side of the bottle and solidified there; brushing the dust from the "goodies" box and opening it to reveal a vial of champa concrete, the lip of which wafts the odd sweet floral minty~ness into the air; the air-dried green goo along the edges of a glass stopper plunged firmly into a near-full bottle of Peaseblossom, giving off snaking fingers of scent redolent of a classic fougere tinged violet. Bottle upon bottle of dark mossy green, pea green, gold, amber, yellow and crystalline colored tinctures glittering in the dim studio light.

I love that these elements speak to me; that I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about an old bottle of boozy dark patchouli that smells of a thousand first rains on a thousand dusty roads, or the last milliliter of a particularly beautiful season of rose otto aging to buttery rose perfection, tucked away in a dark box, or the crate of luban resin in which I hide muslin bags of cash in hopes that the luban will bless it with fortune.


  1. I could agree with every word. There is such a richness in combining aromas and smelling...
    It is like the sea. Vast and deep.

  2. yea man! I would like to pinch of that old sticky little wad of vetyver and rub it between my breast and smell it all day and night and in the morning waking up all warm and there is paint a wondersome picture Justine.<3

  3. @Ane, much like the sea, yes. Same kind of dangerousness and serenity.

  4. @Eleneetha, yes! Just moving bottles around leaves a wicked accidental perfume on my fingertips. Very nice :)

  5. Anonymous6:50 PM

    Beautifully written, Justine. I love what you do, too.



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