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When craziness comes to town, just tilt your head down
The bright sunny days of spring that await us every year have been bottled over 60 years ago. The clear skies and vegetal freshness that we engulf at every breath seem to have been captured in this most amazing scent.
I have never beem one to associate a smell with a man or a woman. Never anything smelt to me as either feminine or masculine, although, of course, I associate some scents or perfumes with a person. My mother used to wear N°5 (cliché, right?) when I was a little boy. That scent profile got carved into my childhood memory as the scent of my mother. Now, years and years have passed and she hasn't worn it since those days. So I bought it for myself. My memories have been shattered. That is no longer my mother's scent. Not that it doesn't smell the same! The first time I sprayed my new bottle it all came back. But it all went to pieces as soon as I started to wear it.
Vetiver has never been in my olfactive memory. Yet, some kind of immemorial past came to me. This is the one scent that I smell and think: this is masculinity. Don't get me wrong, this would be perfect on a woman also! But the way that I perform my masculinity is captured in thia scent. Soft, airy, contemplative. Fluid with like water the first rain after a long period of drought.
If you think of yourself as a son of spring, an ever growing part of this wretched world that we always find too soon to abandon, then embrace the calm arms of this perfume and lie on the floor with us, looking at the treetops for a moment that shall not pass.
I have never beem one to associate a smell with a man or a woman. Never anything smelt to me as either feminine or masculine, although, of course, I associate some scents or perfumes with a person. My mother used to wear N°5 (cliché, right?) when I was a little boy. That scent profile got carved into my childhood memory as the scent of my mother. Now, years and years have passed and she hasn't worn it since those days. So I bought it for myself. My memories have been shattered. That is no longer my mother's scent. Not that it doesn't smell the same! The first time I sprayed my new bottle it all came back. But it all went to pieces as soon as I started to wear it.
Vetiver has never been in my olfactive memory. Yet, some kind of immemorial past came to me. This is the one scent that I smell and think: this is masculinity. Don't get me wrong, this would be perfect on a woman also! But the way that I perform my masculinity is captured in thia scent. Soft, airy, contemplative. Fluid with like water the first rain after a long period of drought.
If you think of yourself as a son of spring, an ever growing part of this wretched world that we always find too soon to abandon, then embrace the calm arms of this perfume and lie on the floor with us, looking at the treetops for a moment that shall not pass.
2 Comments
PauloViegas
