Spices02/14/2020
Federduft
6 Reviews
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Federduft
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8
Makassar on Valentine's Day or the Barber of Casablanca
After shoveling snow in the morning and enduring the gray, dreary weather of the day, there was a longing in the evening for more colorful, sunnier shores.
Morocco is, for me, a synonym for wanderlust of a similar quality to Janosch's Panama. The travel guide for this comes from the Demeter Library of Fragrance: Morocco from the Destination Collection -
The scent had been tested a few times, sporadically worn as a "sleep scent." In my memory, it was shelved somewhere between the epic Dahlia by Jesus del Pozo, the elegant version of Meharees, quotes from Feminite du bois, and Bois Marocain for Dummies, with the note "mostly harmless."
And then ignorance hit me with a floral fist right in the nose. Not at all corresponding to my expected scent profile.
No stroll through a painted souk with spices offered for sale in open baskets. No sweet-spicy mint tea. Not even the slightest hint of dry Saharan air. Instead, a real powerhouse of numbing, toxic tropical flowers. Overgrown and waxy, oily and shiny.
I must not have paid enough attention to the travel guide, and the day trip did not lead to Djemaa el Fna, but to the 'Valley of Roses.' Only roses are present, so baroque, even brash at times, not. Accompanied by a sweet, almost shy jasmine, contrary to its usual nature, no more than a footnote. Neroli, a scribbled note at the edge.
I was firmly stuck, playing Hercule Poirot, without his famous nose.
The small gray cells for scent recognition seemed anesthetized. They are not lilies, too little pollen-sharp. Cloves, contrary to the first association, more in their spice form.
Spices, yes. A fine powder, very lovely. No robust cinnamon, no invigorating pepper. Sweet, cardamom, anise. Or is it the triad of pimento?
The perfume encyclopedia was consulted, under the keyword fragrance notes I read: Spices. Great. And in between, the little Belgian detective made his appearance on my mental stage, smoothing an imaginary, resistant hair in his brilliantine-shiny hairstyle.
The evening progressed without enlightenment. Sleep, as long as I couldn't assign this scent to any botanical source, seemed unlikely, especially since Morocco - for a cologne published by Demeter - proved surprisingly long-lasting. The website of Demeter was consulted as another source, and what did I find there? Spices. "Freshly ground Moroccan spices in a 1000-year-old open-air market." Enlightening. And exactly what I had originally expected. No word about the floral component I was searching for. As further inspiration, they also mentioned a song by Crosby, Stills & Nash. Marrakesh Express. I didn't know it. With nimble fingers, I searched for the lyrics (the song itself, by the way, is not really my thing) and what did it say: "I smell the garden in your hair"
Hair! Hair! Hair oil! Strongly scented hair oil! Makassar! An age-old hair cosmetic traditionally scented with ylang-ylang! Ylang-ylang! Just imagine all the exclamation marks as little light bulbs that finally lit up for me. The dear soul finally found its peace and
decided the next morning to verify the scent of ylang-ylang with the existing bottle of essential oil. This clue turned out to be the solution to the puzzle. Well, my trip to Morocco didn't go as planned, but it was exciting and educational for me.
Sometimes it is not so easy to get to the bottom of scents without a component list or directions. Sometimes you expect one thing and find something completely unexpected. But isn't that the exciting part of olfactory road trips?
Morocco is a very floral, almost floriental scent, with a hint of fine spices.
That's roughly how I imagine it was in the 1930s in Casablanca sitting at the barber's, hearing the noisy hustle and bustle of the market outside, the flowing garments of the halaq
emanating a delicate scent of cardamom and pimento. And Hercule winks at you with makassar-scented hair in the speckled mirror conspiratorially.
Morocco is, for me, a synonym for wanderlust of a similar quality to Janosch's Panama. The travel guide for this comes from the Demeter Library of Fragrance: Morocco from the Destination Collection -
The scent had been tested a few times, sporadically worn as a "sleep scent." In my memory, it was shelved somewhere between the epic Dahlia by Jesus del Pozo, the elegant version of Meharees, quotes from Feminite du bois, and Bois Marocain for Dummies, with the note "mostly harmless."
And then ignorance hit me with a floral fist right in the nose. Not at all corresponding to my expected scent profile.
No stroll through a painted souk with spices offered for sale in open baskets. No sweet-spicy mint tea. Not even the slightest hint of dry Saharan air. Instead, a real powerhouse of numbing, toxic tropical flowers. Overgrown and waxy, oily and shiny.
I must not have paid enough attention to the travel guide, and the day trip did not lead to Djemaa el Fna, but to the 'Valley of Roses.' Only roses are present, so baroque, even brash at times, not. Accompanied by a sweet, almost shy jasmine, contrary to its usual nature, no more than a footnote. Neroli, a scribbled note at the edge.
I was firmly stuck, playing Hercule Poirot, without his famous nose.
The small gray cells for scent recognition seemed anesthetized. They are not lilies, too little pollen-sharp. Cloves, contrary to the first association, more in their spice form.
Spices, yes. A fine powder, very lovely. No robust cinnamon, no invigorating pepper. Sweet, cardamom, anise. Or is it the triad of pimento?
The perfume encyclopedia was consulted, under the keyword fragrance notes I read: Spices. Great. And in between, the little Belgian detective made his appearance on my mental stage, smoothing an imaginary, resistant hair in his brilliantine-shiny hairstyle.
The evening progressed without enlightenment. Sleep, as long as I couldn't assign this scent to any botanical source, seemed unlikely, especially since Morocco - for a cologne published by Demeter - proved surprisingly long-lasting. The website of Demeter was consulted as another source, and what did I find there? Spices. "Freshly ground Moroccan spices in a 1000-year-old open-air market." Enlightening. And exactly what I had originally expected. No word about the floral component I was searching for. As further inspiration, they also mentioned a song by Crosby, Stills & Nash. Marrakesh Express. I didn't know it. With nimble fingers, I searched for the lyrics (the song itself, by the way, is not really my thing) and what did it say: "I smell the garden in your hair"
Hair! Hair! Hair oil! Strongly scented hair oil! Makassar! An age-old hair cosmetic traditionally scented with ylang-ylang! Ylang-ylang! Just imagine all the exclamation marks as little light bulbs that finally lit up for me. The dear soul finally found its peace and
decided the next morning to verify the scent of ylang-ylang with the existing bottle of essential oil. This clue turned out to be the solution to the puzzle. Well, my trip to Morocco didn't go as planned, but it was exciting and educational for me.
Sometimes it is not so easy to get to the bottom of scents without a component list or directions. Sometimes you expect one thing and find something completely unexpected. But isn't that the exciting part of olfactory road trips?
Morocco is a very floral, almost floriental scent, with a hint of fine spices.
That's roughly how I imagine it was in the 1930s in Casablanca sitting at the barber's, hearing the noisy hustle and bustle of the market outside, the flowing garments of the halaq
emanating a delicate scent of cardamom and pimento. And Hercule winks at you with makassar-scented hair in the speckled mirror conspiratorially.
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