Thichila Parfum Prissana 2019

It was the night when I tied a dress for myself
from soft leather straps and champaca flowers,
when the moon dripped like balsam myrrh from the smoky wood of nocturnal pagodas.
I wanted to catch its light in chalices
and pour candles from it
for the darkness of the new moon,
when nothing but cold mist of offerings
muffles the rustling in the flowering branches.

So had the temple cats once whispered to me.

But when I wove shirts for them from nettles
and Wan Sao Long
they hurried away
on sandalwood paths.
Even today I see in the moonlight
the traces of their paws,
following them like the shimmering osmanthus thread.

Stumbling over vetiver roots
I stagger towards a foreign world
to the air castle that we both build.
A forgotten bouncy castle from childhood,
adorned with silk flowers
just for me.
And with tuberoses.

There we jump in anise mists
high and higher,
up to the moon.
Push it over to me
with a finger point!
I blow it back.

So light.

The floating of a night.

So close
So far

***

It admittedly took me a while to engage with the scents of Prin Lomros. It always irritates me a bit when perfumers develop many scents very quickly, and in the case of Prin Lomros, his creative drive must cater to three of his own brands with different profiles - and as if that weren't enough, he also seems to take on commissions for other houses. Impressive. Especially since I have so far encountered consistently original, exciting, and distinctive compositions that I may not all like, but none have left me indifferent.
Thichila astonished and thrilled me - and that's not just because Thichila means "moon" and thematically breaks down open doors for me.
The scent begins with a chypre-like accord of kaffir lime, camphor, and slightly bitter spices. I perceive turmeric a bit stronger than saffron, without it dominating. For cinnamon and nutmeg, I have to engage my imagination. Then a lush floral scent rises with an unfamiliar greenish accent (Wan Sao Long?) and the apricot note of white champaca, which here strongly resembles osmanthus, amidst dark woods and fine (incense?) smoke. I believe I am slowly but surely beginning to understand what oud is - or rather what it could be - and as my nose prepares for labdanum and oakmoss to make their entrance, instead, balsam-soft myrrh combines with mild oud and leathery civet. In interplay with champaca, tuberose, and spikenard, a completely astonishing, slightly sweet, rubbery or plastic-like accord emerges with a pronounced anise note, instantly transporting me to a bouncy castle, only this one is filled not with shouting children, but with exotic flowers and bathed in moonlight. Admittedly, this is as special as it sounds, but for my nose, it is equally fascinating and stunningly beautiful. I would have liked to bounce around on my olfactory bouncy castle for longer than three to four hours, but in the drydown, the scent loses a bit of its originality - or is it just my chypre nose that reacts a bit stuffily without oakmoss? The base of ambered woods and cold incense stick smoke is still lovely, but the magic of the scent lies in the bizarre floral heart note.