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Posted by Dain, Thursday, January 10, 2008 12:26 PM (Eastern)
I really love lavender, sight and smell. I'm not sure what it is, but it requires no intellectual appreciation or purple prose, to me it is nature's perfect fragrance, simply on its own. It exemplifies European wholesomeness, pure but elegant, my mind wanders the pathways of Hvar, a small resort island on the Adriatic famed for its lavender, where I summered a couple years ago. Some lavenders smell medicinal, but the really fine stuff has a herbaceous-floral aromatic quality that sends me straight to seventh heaven.
Thus, William Blake's illustration from the Book of Job, "When the morning stars sang together":
I don't really understand his poetry, but his handcolored prints are eccentric, but wonderful.
I am not someone, however, who needs her lavender adulterated, just softened a little by the presence of vanilla or rose. So while I appreciate Encens et Lavande—the dry, smoky, atmospheric antics of incense are a very interesting counterpoint, it casts a shadow on my summery recollections, and for a change, chilly rather than warm—but it makes me cry, "leave nature alone!". Encens et Lavande is incredibly imaginative (which suits Blake just fine, since he did not do the massive landscapes of other Romantics), but I prefer simplicity from my lavenders.
I also have the sneaking suspicion that, as much as I like incense in a room and in temples (not churches, for me), it does not suit my skin.
Labels: perfume reviews, serge lutens
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