Friday, October 16, 2009

Falling in Love, 2009

Today, I participate in a joint bloggers project -- "Falling in Love: Scents and Treats for Fall."
My treat is the falling in love; I offer but a single scent today, because I wrap my experience of re-falling in love with it with the joy that is the moment of creative flow.  Hope you enjoy; thanks for stopping by.  

The full list of participating bloggers appears at the bottom of my post.  Please visit all as you get the chance.  

Happy Fall.

This is what it is like to sit in the middle of an orchestra.  You are surrounded by people, arcing to either side.  You face the conductor, who seeks to pull your heart and talent through his or her own while at the same time they reach out to you, the collective you, to seek your heart and find the empathetic waves.  Empathetic sound waves that find themselves vibrating together in pitch and creating a new sound as a result.  Empathetic rhythms that both groove together and play off each other.  Empathetic tonal qualities that respect and expand on each other.  The sum is greater than its parts.

You are dancing together.  Each of your individual movements matter, but mean so much because of what they are in the whole.

I have loved L’Artisan’s Fleur d’Narcisse from the first time I wore it.  The idea of narcissus drew me in--not the myth, the flower.  I am an avid gardener, a passion that didn’t erupt until I was clearly established as an adult.  Narcissus--daffodils to us northern gardeners--has been a favorite flower from the start of my gardening days.  From before, actually; one of the first drawings I remember creating in response to a teacher’s assignment to “draw a flower.”  I also recall her saying “think of spring flowers.”

When an orchestra is composed of talent who is young, or not top-flight, or exploring a genre outside their comfort zone, their work at arriving at a fully presented piece can be full of fits and starts.  Entire passages of beauty and ensemble, peppered with pockets of struggle from single players or an entire section.  The zone to your left may have an all out groove going on, and to your right is two people on a stand, trying to find their pitch.

Narcissus bulbs are planted in fall.  They are, according to some books, full of “potential energy."

There is a moment in rehearsal when you know you are nailing it.  Collectively, individually, single player to conductor, within the section, across sections...all the possible ways to pick apart the composition that is the piece being played.  Part of you may even feel a certain joy as it observes the experience from a slightly detached viewpoint, but the rest of you is in the moment, a moment that is not frozen but ever proceeding.

There was a moment I had with Fleur de Narcisse the other day.  It was one of those fall days that had been grey, cold without the crisp promise of transition.  Then the sun came out, and the clouds sat in stark relief against a sky that had patches of brilliant blue even as areas of grey hovered at one horizon.  It became crisp.  Fall became fall, that season where you feel both where you have come from and where you are going.

I huffed at my wrist...a thing I do on a regular basis, now that I’ve developed this passion for perfume.  I was expecting that happy snorfling around I usually have with FdN, rooting around in hay and tobacco with an aura of warmed by sunshineness that I have always gotten from it.

Instead, I got daffodils.

Narcissus poeticus, the vegetal parts with a hint of that odd scent from the flower, stretching up out of its bulb, green stem poking up between compost.  Hay and tobacco compost, yes, but THERE WAS THE NARCISSUS.  Holy cow.  A year with this scent, and I am having an epiphany.  The narcissus was always there.  

It just needed that moment when I experienced the empathetic chord.

Oh. my. 

And, like those times when you are inside the music and it is all working just so, you are having a moment.  But the moment is not frozen, it is the point of realization plus all that flows from that moment.  

Fleur de Narcisse is me falling in love.  Fleur de Narcisse is fall.  Yes, it is a spring flower.  But our knowledge of the spring flower rests on the previously established potential.  

Our appreciation of fall lies in the knowing that another spring will come, while reading back through the history that has defined us to that point even as we prepare for another regeneration.

Falling in love occurs in that moment when you recognize what lies in front of you, how beautiful the moment you are having together is, and what it is going to be to drawn out of that empathetic moment...and the potential yet-to-be created moments.

Thank you, Fall 2009, for bringing me my epiphany and accord with Fleur de Narcisse.  I’ve fallen in love all over again.

other bloggers in the Falling in Love project:

and, she who led us all in to this happy project,
Perfume Shrine

photo credit:  "Autumn in Sepia" by Rick Lundh (via


Mary said...

What a beautiful love letter to Fleur de Narcisse! :)

Perfumeshrine said...

Who can blame you? Fleur de Narcisse is such a wondrous and wonderful fragrance it deserves such an erotic expoundment on the page. If only I hadn't overspent so much already... *sigh*

Aimée L'Ondée said...

Crap, I need me some of that! It truly is a wonder. I may need to sample it again to give my heart another chance to override my brain, which objects strenuously whenever I consider whipping out the credit card for that one. Great post!

ScentScelf said...

Thanks. The best thing is, it loves me back. :)

ScentScelf said...

Funny how you picked up on the erotic part of that...the non verbal power of music and of scent. As for overspending...I hear you. My bottle was a wonderful surprise anniversary gift from my DH.

ScentScelf said...

It is a wonder. And for something that seemed to be, well, rather simple (elegant, but) in it's beauty, it sure did come out and slap me upside the head with a whomp of surprise. Not the payoff from the "wait for it" of drydown, but from the "wait for it" of...experience.

The Daily Connoisseur said...

I agree- beautiful ode to Fleur de Narcisse... I have never tried it but have always wanted to. The name itself is so poetic- just like your writing! xo

Mals86 said...

I sighed in pleasure reading this. Have not sniffed Fleur de Narcisse (budget wags its no-no finger at me) but I do so love Le Temps d'une Fete with its narcissus heart. It never fails to make me happy.

I am a singer. Well, I am a choral singer, which is quite a different thing than a pop singer or even an operatic soloist; my outlet is a small local group. Sometimes I'm tired and have to drag myself to rehearsals, but sooner or later, at least once each season, I am rewarded by that stunning moment when I am a part of the music living and breathing around me, perfect and complete and organic. It is like having wings.

ScentScelf said...

Daily, FdN is not typical; heavy on the vegetal aspects, and pretty "linear." It always captured me on a simple "like it" basis, and now I find complexity in this a-ha moment. Thanks for the kind words!

ScentScelf said...

So you know what I mean by that moment! It is a powerful thing, no? I always feel so lucky, like I am living in beauty, when we are performing and it all hits, with that extra oomph that comes with an audience and the moment. You are right; it is like having wings.


Datura5750 said...

Great post! As a native of Michigan, I also think of narcissus as spring flowers, here in southern California my narcissus start to bloom after the first fall rain, and they have begun...

ScentScelf said...

Thanks, Datura! I'm a Michigan native, too, but my relocation is not nearly as distant as yours. :) Glad that you can still have narcissus in SoCal; funny that yours are starting to bloom, even as I am putting some bulbs in the ground.

March said...

Popping in here to say this was a beautiful read, and thanks.

ScentScelf said...

March, so nice to have you pop in :) ...and thank you.