With the summer holidays coming to an end, it's ironic we're getting such hot summery days at long last... Today was probably the hottest day of the year, actually... But it does start to feel like fall is approaching. And there is no more sleeping in with the new school bus schedule, so I was glad that I've began to wake up at my normal bright and early time without alarm, and bought myself some time before the rest of the household is up to get something creative going on one of the last days off (school does not begin till Wednesday for my daughter).

I've finally got to the blending phase of the perfume idea I got from my trip to San Francisco back in July. The result of which you see in the picture - Honeysuckle & Curry Leaf. It's too early to come into any conclusions here as to where it is heading. It's not necessarily a combination that's going to work out at all. Juxtaposing two elements that weren't even present at the same time and place (proximity and my own experience are the only thing that really tie them together). And those two essences are terribly complex each on its own. Unfortunately, neither really brings up the character of the original raw material all that well either... Which is what's going to be the primary challenge.

Honeysuckle absolute is very dense, rich, complex, and while sweet and honeyed in some ways, it has some dirty and not at all as pretty or uplifting as the fresh flowers. It's a little overpowering, with hints of green and dirty and animalic indole.
Curry leaf oil is almost revolting. The tincture I made (it was created especially for a custom scent, before I could find the essential oil anywhere) was not all that great either in terms of bringing out the exotic, tingling, green yet spicy and floralcy and bite of fresh curry leaves. Both smell mostly just downright weird but the tincture is more true to the original than the oil, in my humble opinion.

Nevertheless, I came back to the little trial-vial I blended this morning and tried it this evening, with the one conclusion - that there is definitely a honeysuckle presence, and not enough curry. So I added a tad more curry leaf tincture.

There is nothing I like less than calling what I do "blending". It's not what it is. And I'll tell you why!

Blending to me is putting a few elements together... It says very little about the end result, except that it is comprised of more than one element. And I can't help but think of blending in makeup, not to mention that noisy machine one utilizes for making smoothies and such...

Mixing makes me think of mixing colours together – fingerpaints or paints or an artist’s palette, or mixing a cocktail, which is now named as if it is a new science – mixology.

Composing perfume is a whole other story. It’s more akin to music than it is to any other art forms. Although, one could argue that it has a lot in common with the culinary arts, where blending is a very appropriate verb (as in blending wines, teas, spices, coffee or chocolate beans, etc., which undoubtedly takes much skill and knowledge of each raw material that is “blended”). Because, like music, the art of perfumery takes place in time. And like music, a few elements can exist next to each other without losing themselves to one another:

"If you mix blue and yellow together, you lose the individual colors and make a new one; tones, on the other hand, may be combined without losing their individuality. What you end up with is a chord, something new, which has its own sound but in which the individual tones are also distinct and identifiable. It's not a blending or, as one might expect when one hears a number of people talking at once, just noise, but something of a different order (…) For colors to stay separate without blending, they have to occupy space next to one another. They can't occupy the same space. But notes can occupy the same space and remain separate".
- Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses, p. 219-220

And this is what to me makes perfumery such a compelling art form – it encompasses so much emotion, and so many elements, and they sometimes sing in unison, but other times trail off to whisper their own melodies. They don’t lose themselves in whatever relationship they are. They just live together in harmony in their little glass house.

I'm reading Diane Ackerman's Natural History of the Senses - a thought provoking book, that is also sensually inspiring. It's amazing how our world relays first and foremost on our senses, how our senses limit our perception and contain our experiences within a certain range of decibels, light frequencies, odour perceptions and and also free us.

Strangely enough, the chapter I was most inspired by is actually the one on the sense of touch. There is so much emotion and expression tied to this sense, that when we are deeply affected by something (or somebody), we say "we are touched" by it... Although this sense is considered a "lower" or "animalic" sense in the hierarchy the Aristotle created (he viewed hearing and vision as higher, more refined or intelligent senses as they don't require direct contact with the object they are sensing - something that of course we could argue otherwise, with what we now know about light waves, particles, etc. - it's not as if nothing touches the eyes to stimulate vision!) - there is so much power to it and it is so commonly overlooked in our everyday life... And now that I've just completed the chapter about hearing, I'm yet again awed by the power of sound and the nearly magical effect of music on our psyche.

"...no end to the yearning, longing, rapture, and misery of love: world, power, fame, honor, chivalry, loyalty, and friendship, scattered like an insubstantial dream; one thing alone left living: longing, longing unquenchable, desire forever renewing itself, craving and languishing; one sole redemption: death, surcease of being, the sleep that knows no waking!” - Richard Wagner, of his Tristan und Isolde prelude ...

When nothing seems to soothe my soul, and I feel that I can't breathe, let alone inhale a perfume; on days when even the most beautiful music feels like it pinches my heart and hammers on my brain from the inside - disturbing whatever bit of peace I may have left, instead of providing an outlet for powerful emotions -- on days like this, I turn to the ocean, and am thankful for its proximity and healing power.

As I lay on the beach, I become aware of my skin being caressed by the wind, my toes dipped in the gritty warm sand and occasionally tickled by sand fleas. The waves reach for the shore, as if quietly licking my wounds... Their repetitive whispers quiet my mind, full of heart-clenching melodies charged with too much emotion... Each waves does not return to the ocean empty handed – it brings back a handful of tears, which might be why the ocean is so salty… And I begin to swim, every inch of my body embraced by heavy, cold water that shares my burden and lightens my load of sorrows by dispersing them evenly among the myriads of H2O molecules… And sodium chloride… and fish and algae - whose smell I begin to detect because finally I can breath.. And with each breast stroke, the world seems bigger and more full of wonders. And even a sudden death at sea (by a boat or a musk rat – ahum, disappointingly this was the only wild creature I swam next to this year…) does not seem all that bad if I will become a wave and take someone’s sorrow away. Wagner and his fellow Romanticists were so wrong… Death is not redemption in the sense of eternal rest and end of suffering (too bad for Ophelia, Isolde, Romeo & Juliet who lost their lives over love just because they couldn’t wait long enough to get over a breakup before taking up their own lives)… It is merely the beginning of another life form(s) and energy redistributed in the universe.


The waves remind me that everything is temporary. Can you even tell where a wave begins and where it ends? And when does the next wave begin? The waves are energy, flowing within the fabric of the universe, constantly changing, and carried in many different forms and patterns. And just when things seem to go only downhill, another peak arrives… And just when we think that the pain is unbearable and we can’t take it anymore – its peak is over and it withdraws and disappears without leaving a mark. The most beautiful things in the world don't last forever, but so does pain and suffering. It's all part of something bigger - life, the universe - we are a small part of it, and whatever we experience has its place in the greater scheme of things, even though we cannot always understand the whys and the hows. We just have to be.