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Marieposa
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43
At the Tropic of Capricorn
"And now get out of here and don't show your face again any time soon, you shabby cliff rat!" the ibex snorted as he slowed down from a full gallop, hooves pounding, and came to a halt right in front of the entrance to his cave.
I rolled my eyes. The little brown rodent had long since scurried behind the rocks. Besides, I knew there was little point in saying anything when he was in this mood.
"No one need be surprised if the mangoes turn rotten! And you don't have to pretend you haven't noticed anything. There's another one of those poops outside the front door, and someone has peed in the mulch."
If I hadn't known what was coming next, the crazy gleam in his yellow eyes could almost have scared me. But I suppress a mocking smile and say as seriously as I can: "It's all right. I'll go and see if the mangoes have been nibbled," but made no effort to get up, instead leaning my head calmly against the mountain of tuberoses.
The ibex got up on its hind hooves, grabbed a broom leaning against the entrance to the cave and began to sweep with manic obsession, while I watched out of the corner of my eye as a fluffy little face with beady eyes and a shiny black snout emerged from behind the mangoes piled into a tower in the blazing sun.
Perhaps the little fellow was slowly but surely becoming a little impertinent.
I sighed and gathered a handful of wilted tuberose flowers into a bouquet. Then I took a few bold steps towards the ibex, took the broom from his hand and pressed two fingers with gentle pressure on that spot between his eyes. His nostrils began to quiver gently and he stretched his leathery lips towards the tuberoses that I had squeezed a little with the broom handle.
"You know, when night falls over the jungle and the fruit bats sing in the frangipani trees, none of this will matter so much anymore."
My words did not fail to have an effect and the ibex nudged me lightly as he tried to nestle his head into the crook of my arm with his grinding jaws. I, on the other hand, suddenly felt for my ear to check whether the red champaca flower above it was still in place.
"If you want, you can call me Henry," the ibex mumbled sheepishly. And I sighed a second time.
You're really weird, Henry, I thought, but I like you.
**
Dr. Ellen Covey is a neurobiologist and holds a professorship at the Department of Psychology at the University of Washington. She has also dedicated herself to the professional cultivation of orchids and produces fragrances by hand from mostly natural raw materials under the motto "extraordinary perfumes for extraordinary people", which in my opinion, despite the versatility of her spectrum, is actually nothing more than the logically consistent combination of her areas of interest.
Incidentally, the Ellen Covey fragrances I have had the pleasure of getting to know so far are exceptional across the board - and Tropic of Capricorn is no exception as a special kind of fruity floral: a sultry blend of tuberose, frangipani and champaca sets new standards for the term "indolic", while overripe mango and hyraceum provide quite unabashed tropical accents.
My love of squishy mango and petrified rock samphire heads is normally somewhat underdeveloped, but together with the power of the flowers, a completely surreal but almost irresistible mixture unfolds here that I cannot and will not resist. As the fragrance progresses, it becomes milder, but not necessarily tamer. Osmanthus contributes leathery facets and ensures that the animalic notes intensify over time before the fragrance fades out in a delicious sandalwood-benzoin base.
Tropic of Capricorn is not a quiet perfume and is highly polarizing, which is why sparing dosing is recommended. Its longevity is above average, and not just for a natural fragrance.
Hyraceum
Mango
Tuberose
Ambergris
Frangipani
Magnolia
Osmanthus
Bourbon vanilla
Jasmine
New Caledonian sandalwood
Benzoin
BoBoChamp
Gavarrus
Avantcrap
Baobaba
JC6
Coffinjumper
Rachelg
Emorandeira
