Kyphi Olympic Orchids Artisan Perfumes 2011

I had been warned.
About mustard on chocolate cake, about burned nasal mucous membranes and headaches, about the fainting of socially endangered companions I had read, and about thought processes leading towards heroin.
I knew that Ellen Covey did not make it easy for her clientele with her fragrances, that surprises and unexpected twists were part of the concept, that the niche within the niche carefully chose its admirers.
And yet I had set my mind on testing "Kyphi" not in a quiet little room, not secretly and just for myself, but in the context of an annual general meeting with an outdoor program afterwards.
A long afternoon in the company of many people who might wrinkle their noses, who might strike me from their guest lists in the future and certify my nonexistent social competence.
I could not be entirely sane.

Small, inconspicuous, and already significantly emptied is the test tube with the light yellow liquid.
I know one should not judge solely by appearances; too much boldness has often backfired.
I am brave, I dare the obligatory three-drop dose on either side behind my ears and on my wrist, expecting it to sweep the ground from under my feet.
The ground stays where it is; instead, a medicinal, camphor-like scent wafts from my skin, immediately reminding me of cold balm and similar aromas - this is not unpleasant, but also not exactly what I expect from the top note of a perfume.
Shortly thereafter, dry spices mingle in, which I cannot clearly identify, paving the way for a semi-transparent, dark, yet not overly cool incense that now seeks to purposefully lead the character of the fragrance out of the pharmacy.
It does not fully succeed - like a red thread, an ethereal-menthol component runs through "Kyphi," which I cannot quite explain.
Could it be the calamus?

I have no idea who or what calamus might be, I consult Wikipedia for advice - and find enlightenment.
Calamus is described there as a type of marsh plant, whose fleshy root smells camphor-like and is considered a traditional medicinal plant in Asian medicine.
Its essential oil is also used in the production of bitter digestifs; even Coca-Cola reportedly contains calamus tincture according to Wikipedia.
That sounds healthy and explains my Vicks VapoRub association - but I better ignore what else Wikipedia has to say about calamus to avoid worrying about the legality of my actions.
"On risks and side effects..." - you know what I mean!

Instead, I welcome an old acquaintance on my skin, the "Coveyade," which has appeared in every tested fragrance from Olympic Orchids at a certain point and has made Ellen Covey's signature unmistakable for my nose: the slightly oily odor of a third-world shop, more atmospheric than olfactorily dominant.
On this basis, "Kyphi" shows a few unexpected facets, a citrus-like freshness flashes in the background for moments, a few woods are felled, and a honeycomb is carried past, its trace just barely perceptible.

All the while, "Kyphi" maintains its camphor-green, slightly resinous base on my skin - a scent that I find quite pleasant, although I would not readily label it as a perfume and can well imagine that it may require some getting used to for many noses and only elicits spontaneous sympathy in exceptional cases.
As incense or a room fragrance for meditative purposes, "Kyphi" might have better chances of gaining a larger circle of friends - but after a two-day test, I can happily state that no one has ended our friendship, my partner is still my partner, I do not create a radius of three meters around me on the bus, and nothing else has happened that would give serious cause for concern.
This may also be because "Kyphi," when applied in a dotted three-drop dosage at home, has a moderate sillage and is only very faintly perceptible close to the skin in the cold of a November afternoon.
While most fragrances from Ellen Covey remained with me without significant change and reduction until the following morning, "Kyphi" becomes noticeably airier and softer over the course of wear, until after a maximum of eight hours, only a very faint, ethereal trace remains.