Saturday, June 26, 2010

Thank You Note to Reverie au Jardin

Since I was epistolary with Denyse, how about I give the same consideration to Andy Tauer's Reverie au Jardin?

Dear Reverie,


I was commenting on another blog the other day, and came across someone else referring to vetiver bundles being sold to "refresh" drawers, particularly in the heat.  By "drawers," I understood them to mean dresser drawers, though with that bunch, you can never be too certain.  On review, however, I feel fairly certain they were referring to a bureau and storage.  REGARDLESS, this was a new something for me, and of course immediately reminded me of the lavender wands I both make and purchase ready made for uses including closets and drawers.  (By which I mean rather small alcoves for storage and the things you pull out from a bureau.  The thought of a lavender wand in my knickers is, well, not even risque, just somewhat or rather uncomfortable.)


I think I rambled again.  Sorry.


So, with this association between vetiver and lavender established via someone else's drawers, and the context of the initial discussion (perfume, natch), my thinkings quickly went to the idea of vetiver and lavender as hot weather nicelies in perfume.  And I immediately went to you, Reverie, the perfume that doesn't hide lavender in syrup, or bury it in a stew of incense.  Your lavender is honest, true--vera indeed.  You are the lavender I find in my garden, that wafts up whenever I brush against those simultaneously soft and nubby stems; you are the lavender that snaps my senses into focus.  You know, in aromatherapy, lavender is listed as having both "calming" and a "stimulating" properties, which seems to be just, well, daft.  But it's true.  Part of it is the amount, part of it is the context.


You, Reverie, are the lavender that sharpens my senses.  But you don't make me hyper; you must somehow hide your calming side, putting it into play without ever letting me know.


These are things you already knew.  I've said them before.  But here is what is new, why I write today:


You are fabulous in the heat.


It is the sharp, somewhat herbal aspect to you that works as vetiver does.  Levelly tenacious, without asserting yourself to the point of obnoxiousness.  And you know what?  There's something easy about our familiarity.  Vetiver is still a guest--a guest that is becoming a friend, mind you--but lavender is family.  Or maybe an old friend.  The best thing is, you aren't boring...there's no way you could be, with your adamant refusal to be anything but your vegetal self.  You aren't boring, but underneath that potentially challenging exterior, you are...known.


And, you devil...you helped me through yesterday's heat and humidity, and you were STILL there, in intermittent puffs, as I worked in the garden this morning.  Clever.


I'm going to let my perfume peeps know about this hot weather trick of yours, if you don't mind.  I think everybody should spend a hot day with you, at least once.  


Yours, as always.
SS

9 comments:

Tamara said...

Aha! I love this letter.
I have been meaning to try this and hopefully the weather will cooperate and I can have my own purple haze experiance.
I live in a lil' culdesac that has lavender growing all in the courtyard in the middle of our street. It wafts in my home and my daughters cut me bouquets of it.

It is one of my favorite flowers but I want it in a perfume to keep it with me always.
Perhaps this is the one.

Thanks for the post and the 'nose' up on this.

Truly, T

La Bonne Vivante said...

Amen, or rather, sincerely yours, or rather, ditto that, I hear you sister.

I have been wearing R au J lately as well, and it certainly does hit the spot.

flittersniffer said...

What a charming letter - you absolutely must send it to Andy Tauer, who would find it very "lustig", I have no doubt, not least the drawers double entendre.

I must come clean - lavender is a very occasional guest for me with no prospect of becoming a friend, and I am happy to have vetiver call by on a six monthly frequency or less. So I gave my sample of Reverie away, ditto Vetiver Dance.

But for LADDM I will forever salute the man.

ScentScelf said...

Tamara,

And I love that you have lavender in your cul de sac! So often, those islands are left with grassandatree, or a forlorn shrub; they have such potential for beauty and/or function. Better yet, I love that your daughters are so thoughtful. :)

If you are fond of the whole plant as a smell, and not just the flower, this one is definitely worth a try.

Thanks for stopping by!

ScentScelf said...

BV,

Nice to have company up here in the chorus. :) (Resume singing praises of RaJ...)

ScentScelf said...

Flittersniffer,

Aw, it's okay. We can't all like everything. I do appreciate the warning; perhaps someday I'll be treated to a piece on how lavender *annoys* you...which would be fun.

And then I would go spritz my Reverie, and be happy again. ;)

You know, I first came across L'Air du Desert Marocain when I was fresh into this perfume thing. I think, in honor of our "vive le diference" detente, I shall go try it again. I had squirreled it away for a time when I was more ready...maybe that time has arrived...

Besides, your unfortunate storage situation is all the more inspiration to "carpe diem."

(How'm I doin' with visits to foreign language cliches? What's that you point out? I've included some in my own language, too? Ah, so...)

Mals86 said...

In the case of lavender, I'm with FS: it makes my head hurt. In the garden, even, instant headache. I don't know why.

I have a small sample of RaJ that I have merely sniffed from the vial. Again, headache. I very much doubt that putting it on skin would change anything. Of course, one cannot blame Andy for my quirks.

But it is lovely to hear of your Happy Place experience with RaJ nonetheless, so thanks for that.

ScentScelf said...

Mals,

Blergh. There are some scents that do that to me, too. Obviously, RaJ is not one of them. And no, I don't blame the perfumer.

But I do sometimes blame the aldehydes. ;)

flittersniffer said...

ScentScelf, I think I would allow you the odd cliche in any language, which is easily offset by your many neologisms and arresting - deviant septum-style - mixed metaphors. : - )

Reverie gave me a headache, ditto most of the line, Le Maroc pour Elle being one of the worst culprits. And such is the entrenched nature of my scented solipsism that I would have no hesitation in blaming Andy. Though LADDM makes up for them all!