The Mambo, priestess of the Hoodoo cult, cautiously entered the house. She immediately understood what must have happened here. A Petro-Loa, an aggressive spirit being, had been here, perhaps was still present, and had left its negative spiritual aura behind; unwanted thoughts floated in the room, threatening to settle in the minds of the inhabitants and disturb happiness and peace. Of course, the house was no longer livable in this state. She briefly considered whether a trance dance, a ride through a Rada-Loa, could provide relief. Would she be granted the consciousness to cleanse the house in this way? But then she was also sure, even without uniting with her Loa: Florida Water would surely help in this case.
Florida Water, a cologne that careless whites used as shaving and refreshing water, fragrance, or hair tonic, could work wonders in Voodoo ceremonies, especially in ritual cleansings. To the uninitiated, it smelled like a normal cologne: bergamot, lemon, neroli, a few spices of which no one could say for sure what was really contained, at most cinnamon was distinctly perceptible, lavender of course, some floral accents. All in all, a brief presence, quickly fading like the spirit of the ancestors, subtle and mysterious, produced for generations.
She glanced at the bottle from Lanman and Kemp. The wonderfully old-fashioned label contained cryptic drawings, the deeper meaning of which was only revealed to a Mambo. It had been produced this way since at least 1808; some said it was 200 years older, who really knew. Was it a recipe that the ancestors of her forefathers had brought from Africa? Had the whites conceived it but not known its effect, and was it then awakened to spiritual life by the Mambos and Houngans?
In contrast to the clear, bright, citrus colognes from the old world in Europe, it was much spicier; the scent of cinnamon lingered long in the air, dominating the lemon and bergamot notes. White magic was contained in this mixture, which kept the strong Petro-Loa, evil spirits, at bay, could drive them away if one knew how to use the water.
Determined, she stepped deeper into the house, through all the rooms, the bottle of Florida Water firmly in hand, sensing the aura of the spirit.
Less than half an hour later, she returned, exhausted but satisfied. She met the expectant gazes of the inhabitants, who had waited for her, the Mambo, with anticipation and yet patience. The house was livable again, the spirit either reconciled or banished.
Florida Water is a seemingly simple, classic so-called all-purpose cologne, as they remain popular in England and America. They serve as aftershave, as a light, refreshing fragrance, as hair tonic to strengthen the hair, for scenting laundry.
Lanman & Kemp's (now Murray and Lanman) Florida Water resembles in many ways the ethereal-floral colognes from Germany (Farina, 4711) or the more orange or neroli-scented waters from Italy (Acqua di Parma, among others), less so the more pronounced English colognes. Here, the citrusy opening is quickly covered by a spicy cinnamon note that lingers on the skin for quite some time before it too fades, just as one would expect from a typical unobtrusive cologne.
And yet, Florida Water differs in one respect from all other colognes from the old and new worlds: Florida Water has indeed been used for a long time as a spiritual cleansing water in Hoodoo and Yoruba or Santeria ceremonies. Considering that the fragrance can be ordered online in generous quantities for just a few euros, I can only recommend trying it out to see what effect this cologne might actually have. There must be something to its cleansing effect.
Thousands of Latin American users cannot be wrong...