Kyoto Kanebo 1981 Eau de Parfum

Last fall I found in a box of vintage perfumes a small bottle Kyoto EdP again. Of course, I immediately wanted to know how the contents have survived the years.

What I found was -for me- very touching:
In my mind, I was about to open an old chest of fragrant sandalwood, which contains a valuable antique komono:
The silk, like the top note of the perfume, is already very fragile.
The colors of the beautiful, printed and hand-embroidered floral pattern are partially faded, but still to guess.
Clearly perceptible is the subtle scent of incense, which leads me to believe that this kimono was worn on feast days for temple ceremonies.
Such an expensive piece of clothing was certainly passed down from generation to generation. Of the women who wore it, there is no trace, no memory left. They are shadows in the realm of shadows, a whisper in the wind.

In my collection there are perfumes for different occasions and moods: Some are uplifting and vitalizing, others more soothing, warming and relaxing.
This perfume is not tipped, it fades more and more, leaving behind a memory of its beauty,
Kyoto is a memento mori for me, a confrontation with transience.
No other of my perfumes has this side effect of evoking not only melancholy, but sometimes even deep sadness.