The moment of looking up, of slowly and consciously lifting the head to draw the fresh air deep into the lungs. The chest rises and falls, one’s thoughts clear up, and a positive, hopeful feeling of life’s reality pulses through the body. Inner and outer worlds find each other with the dissolution of the clouds.
It had rained - nothing unusual, surely, and yet sometimes the decisive event with which much changes, dissolves - redeems.
Undergrowth (2020) captures this immediate moment of the aftermath. A kick that pulls one out of dull apathy, out of oneself, and calls to look around, to perceive the environment. It awakens the senses.
There is the steaming of the moisture, giving the dense, lush green vegetation around a satisfying bluish shimmer. The grass seems to finally stand up again, and especially, the mint clusters towards the forest. It practically flows into the nose.
Admittedly, I was skeptical about the mint. Particularly with mint tea, I often find that either artificial toothpaste notes come to mind or it tastes too herbal and bland or medicinal. But the minty notes here are incredibly well chosen and, despite hints of chewing gum, feel very high-quality, authentic, and stylish. The almost velvety-smoky mint clouds also wonderfully intertwine with the other green-fresh tones, while earth complements the invigorating melody with a mood-setting bass chord.
As the experience unfolds, patchouli intensifies the earthiness. Barefoot, one first feels euphorically but cautiously the cool drops in the grass before venturing step by step onto the damp ground and finally stops being bothered by water and a bit of dirt. It feels soothing.
A rare, unusual scent that may not be for every day, but has the power to maneuver one out of negative thought spirals or oppressive monotony in a single breath.