Tropic of Capricorn Olympic Orchids Artisan Perfumes 2013

"And now disappear and don't show your face here anytime soon, you shabby rock rat!" the Capricorn bellowed, snorting as he came to a halt right in front of the entrance to his cave, having braked from a full gallop with pounding hooves.
I rolled my eyes. The little brown rodent had long scurried behind the rocks. Besides, I knew full well that it made little sense to say anything when he was in this mood.
"Nobody should be surprised if the mangoes go rotten! And you don't need to pretend you haven't noticed anything. There are those droppings right in front of the door again, and someone has peed in the mulch."
Had I not suspected what would come next, the crazy gleam in his yellow eyes could have almost frightened me. But I suppressed a mocking smile and said as seriously as possible, "It's alright. I'll check if the mangoes have been nibbled," but made no move to get up, instead leaning my head calmly against the mountain of tuberoses.
The Capricorn rose up on his hind hooves, grabbed a broom that was leaning against the cave entrance, and began to sweep with maniacal obsession while I observed from the corner of my eye as a fluffy little face with button eyes and a shiny black snout peeked out from behind the tower of mangoes stacked in the blazing sun.
Maybe the dassie was indeed becoming a bit cheeky, slowly but surely.
I sighed and gathered a handful of wilted tuberose flowers into a bouquet. Then I took a few daring steps towards the Capricorn, took the broom from his hand, and pressed two fingers gently on the spot between his eyes. His nostrils began to tremble softly, and he stretched his leathery lips towards the tuberoses that I had slightly squished with the broomstick.
"You know, when night falls over the jungle and the flying foxes sing in the frangipani trees, all of this here won't matter so much anymore."
My words did not miss their mark, and the Capricorn nudged me lightly as he tried to snuggle his head with his grinding jaws into the crook of my arm. I, on the other hand, suddenly reached for my ear to check if the red champaca flower above it was still in place.
"If you want, you can call me Henry," the Capricorn mumbled shyly. And I sighed a second time.
You are really quirky, Henry, I thought, but I like you.

***

Dr. Ellen Covey is a neurobiologist and holds a professorship at the psychological institute of the University of Washington. She is also dedicated to the professional cultivation of orchids and handcrafts fragrances under the motto "extraordinary perfumes for extraordinary people" from mostly natural raw materials, which in my opinion, despite the versatility of her spectrum, is really nothing more than the logically consistent connection of her areas of interest.
The Ellen Covey fragrances I have encountered so far are all exceptional - and Tropic of Capricorn is no exception as a fruity-floral of a special kind: A sultry blend of tuberose, frangipani, and champaca sets new standards for the term "indolic," while overripe mango and hyraceum provide distinctly tropical accents.
My love for mushy mango and petrified rock hyrax droppings is usually somewhat underdeveloped, but combined with the intensity of the flowers, a completely surreal yet utterly irresistible blend unfolds here that I cannot and do not want to resist. Over time, the fragrance becomes milder, but not necessarily tamer. Osmanthus adds leathery facets and ensures that the animalic notes intensify throughout the duration before the fragrance concludes in a delicious sandalwood-benzoin base.
Tropic of Capricorn is not a wallflower and polarizes strongly, which is why a sparing dosage is recommended. The longevity is above average, even for a natural fragrance.