Mote of the Strange

As the days have progressed, I have been working on F12016CH, and though it is turning out beautifully, if I do say so myself, it's missing something. I haven't as yet put my finger on what it's missing, but I hope that with ageing, the missing piece will present itself. It's something worth sleeping on. The last time I had this problem with a perfume not quite coming together, I was advised by another, very well-known, perfumer to add more jasmine. That may be the fix, but I'm looking for a prestige note to do the work for me. And I'm thinking green is the way to go. However, every single day I evaluate this new scent, I am surprised to find it is changed. It is possible that ageing is all it really needs, and some serious dilution. I'm finding that the more tinctures and alcoholic extracts I add, the more expansive and multi-faceted the scent becomes. Time may very well be the final component here. It never ceases to amaze me how something dreamed up in my tired old mind can become what I imagined it would only after time has been applied. Modhlim, for example, is now quite beautiful, much more so than when I first created it. All the sharp notes of basil and the dusty, rusty iron-like piercing quality of green tea mellow behind a veil of soft spices and lush florals. Perfuming with natural raw materials is never boring, as their chameleon qualities serve to enhance almost any pot they're thrown into, given time.

There are some advantages to living in a perfumer's (or creative's) bubble, and one is not allowing oneself to become influenced by trends. I've been a victim of trend following in the past, when I was seeking the all mighty dollar above all else, and it always ended disastrously. I would be left holding the bag, both figuratively and literally. The only times I've been rewarded for my creative work was when I went against the grain, when I did something different, or explored something with a mote of the strange -- or at least strange for my clientele.  The creative juices are flowing, my friends, and I'm back! It took reading off the grid works and a change of familial circumstance for the block to dislodge, and, boy, what a backlog of ideas and future projects came pouring out. I have yellow sticky notes posted everywhere with new ideas, names for future work, materials to explore. They're on my desk, on my computer's screen frame, on the walls around my work station, tagging up on pages in books stacked high on the blending desk, the kitchen table, the computer station, the chest freezer that serves as a printer stand. They're fluttering to the floor when papers are being shifted about, and have to be retrieved and arranged in an order my mind can make sense of. I feel lighter. Back in tune. Ready to create.