Layla Kemi / Al Kimiya 2014

One of the most famous love stories is that of Layla and Ghain, Madschnūn Lailā - the Layla-obsessed man who died of this love.
There are many versions of this story, each of which can be read in the vast expanses of the Internet or in the story of Nizami, so I am not reproducing NONE that has been written, but the one I was told many years ago:

"Ghain and Layla were two children together as one. Always together, one came - came the other, one went - went the other and laughed one - laughed the other. To look into Layla's eyes was for Ghain to see the sun rising every day, there is no life without the sun, unimaginable to be without it. Together they had learned to walk and together they would leave the world one day. They lived like brothers and sisters, but they were not like brothers and sisters.
Anyone with eyes in their head could see that. Layla's father was a rich merchant and rarely saw his children. Ghain's father, his childhood friend, honest and wealthy owner of an inn, but not rich, saw his son Ghain and Layla each of their shining days and both his heart and mind seemed to see the path of the two of them into a common future.
As Layla grew older, put on the veil and was no longer allowed to roam around with Ghain, the father took his son Ghain aside and told him not to be sad, the time had to wait to ask Layla's father for her hand.
That day came and brought darkness to all life, when Layla's father laughed at Ghain and his father, his own childhood friend. He would never give Layla to Ghain and quickly he married her to his even richer business partner, for Layla was beautiful and an adornment of her sex.
Ghain was no longer Ghain without Layla, he did not eat, he did not sleep, and when the caravan with Layla left the village forever, he never set foot in a house again: he walked and stayed at the edge of the desert, under the open sky, under the sun that burned the healthy spirit out of his head more and more every day. He wandered around, no longer recognizing anyone, neither by face nor by heart. Tangled verses of love flowed from his lips incessantly, like tears from his eyes. His life was empty and lonely like the desert and his heart burned for a cold spirit.
This is the story of Ghain, who was obsessed with Layla."

The westerner now has a thousand questions: What is the end of the story? Why was nothing done? Did Layla love him that much? Why did she not refuse?
These questions do not arise. Suffering and pain and their contrast to this all-encompassing love is the central point and it is a matter of preserving the beauty of the story with the beauty of the narrative.
By the way, the song "Layla" by Eric Clapton refers to this love story in a version in which Layla and Ghain only meet and fall in love when they are adults.
When some years ago LAYLA was announced by Al Kimiya, I immediately had the memory of this story in my head and very, very high expectations. They were all fulfilled.
Because as in Madschnūn Lailā LAYLA as a fragrance is not really tangible, remains diffuse, is not concrete. And yet true and present. Without the scent pyramid in front of my eyes I would never have come up with these 'ingredients' - but the other way round you find the ingredients in the fragrance.
If I had to describe LAYLA without knowing the pyramid of scents, I would say: warm spiced milk. In addition, the fragrance becomes so one with my skin that after a few hours I can't tell where I applied it - nevertheless its aura is there.
Unfortunately, no one else has noticed when I've worn LAYLA - even my children say when you ask them to "smell" - "THAT smells like you, mummy".
That's why I had been thinking about buying it for so long: who spends SO MUCH money on a perfume that nobody notices as perfume? And it doesn't help to apply more perfume - LAYLA refuses and remains in every dosage and no matter where tender, subtle and elegant - a dark shadow. Clearly oriental - but not a perfume orient. Feminine - but not feminine. Absolutely timeless with your foot in eternity. Great perfume art!

In the end I felt like Ghain: when the bottling was over I realized that I don't want to live without LAYLA. With money you could solve my problem - with much more money Ghain could have solved his problem. That's why I find the "moral" of this story a bit unorthodox: if Ghain had been a problem solver, this beautiful story would not exist.

I hope I have not disappointed anyone that my description is so little aimed at the description of the fragrance itself. But from Sweetsmell75 there is an absolutely accurate comment, to which nothing of substance could be added.
It was a matter of the heart for me to spread this great story behind the name - every time I use Layla I think about it and I hope to have passed on some inspiration.

"What passes is time, but not love. Let all else be bauble and jugglery and conceit: it is not. For the brazier on which it burns is eternity itself, which has neither beginning nor end Nizami

"Layla, you've got me on my knees
Layla, I'm begging, darling please
Layla, darling won't you ease my worried mind" Eric Clapton