|Frozen in the garden trug a few weeks back|
When reading the runes, the "ice" symbol represents "the element to which all things must return before they can change"
It's a combination of thinking patterns (sometimes described as "creative," sometimes just "proceessing") and physical patterns (migraineurs know full well there are times when certain sensory inputs are a Do Not Enter zone of high danger). To tell you the truth, I don't mind. Many passions and interests in my life have involved nearly manic hunting/gathering periods, followed by intense exploration, followed by thinkings, followed by time off. (Or an overlapping progressing more or less following that pattern.) Filmmaking, for example, is structured that way: pre-production is the hunting and gathering, production is a crazy intense exploration/application time, editing is thinking/application, and then you are done. So done. So quiet, after all of those people and all of that noise and all of that thinking. Teaching, too, runs that way with me: creating and preparing a class is the hunting gathering, going through the semester and guiding/leading is the exploration (because any good teacher knows you aren't simply delivering information, you are ready to process and learn based on feedback from students, whether the learning is about the subject or your own teaching methods), and then the evaluation of the "products" the students come up with at the end of the class.
Not to flog a prone horse, but I could build similar cases for gardening and the never ending process of child rearing. And those are all longitudinal...gardening, filmmaking, teaching, child rearing, they've all played and replayed the cycle over time. There are other things, like my passion for cooking, that had one major cycle and has been on a slow simmer with occasional flare ups ever since, or my interest in antiques, or or or...a whole slew of stuff that involved One Big Dance and has since simply been folded into the repertoire, revisited from time to time.
I'll figure out how to categorize my music playing over this paradigm later.
So while the third thing I listed, budget, is an external reality that affects purchased acquisitions, it is really just that: An external factor. Sure, if I had a more generous budget...which means at times simply having a budget for it...I'd probably acquire more perfume things. More splits, more venerated discontinueds, more wacky explorations into the unknown. But the fact of the matter is, I'd build a back catalogue. I already have one of a sort; it's not nearly as extensive as what some of us perfume people have amassed, but I'd be deceitful if I didn't acknowledge that the typical consumer would check out what I could sniff at any given moment and cock their head sideways and adopt one or more looks from a list that includes incredulous, suspicious, pitying, evaluative, and pondering intervention.
Who knew there would be a day when I use my piles of books as a shield, a diversion, a way to deflect possible condemnation? As if there are more respectable things to hunt and gather...which to be honest, I think there are, in a public perception sense...I mean, folks reveal their libraries, their recorded music collection, their Lladro figurines, their orchids. Funny, isn't it, that in some households, Beanie Babies went on proud display, but meanwhile you'd have to dig around to find my Intoxification, my back up bottle of Black Cashmere, my boxes of splits and decants?
But I digress. Somewhat.
And somehow, I wanted to get to Parfumerie Generale Aomassai.
Right! So, I've been on a triple threat smelling/purchasing/thinking hiatus. Mmmmm...let me clarify the thinking part. I've not been thinking about perfume on the "smells like" level for a few weeks. Not directly, not metaphorically. I've been thinking about perfume occasionally, and wearing it occasionally, but not actively, if that makes sense. Not with the heightened consciousness of taking in something new, not with the extra awareness I often like to apply to an "old friend" to see if things are the same or changed in our relationship. So I've been low on perfume reviews. (What? What's that chuckling?? Oh, right; I'm never much one for a straight up review. But they did used to happen more regularly.)
A couple of days ago, I got my first "new" scents in over two months. (What? What's that chuckling? A non-perfume person happens to be reading, and that strikes them as a somewhat silly sentence? Yes, I understand. But this is the world of perfume. Try to imagine yourself without a new book, a new movie, or heck, a new foodstuff, or a fresh skein of yarn, to explore for nearly a whole meteorological season. It's kind of like that. Non-tragic, but notable.) Splits of Parfumerie Generale Aomassai, Eau d'Italie Baume de Doge, and Caron Coup de Fouet.
I can nutshell the second and third for the moment: Coup de Fouet, the edc version of Poivre, is just how I like a carnation delivered: spicy, with depth...in this case the depth is provided by a woody creamy base, but being an edc, not a dense chewy one. Early in the wearing it reminds me a bit of an old chewing gum--Beeman's? the clove gum? something on my grandfather's desk. Anyway, a nice way to blend light delivery with serious notes.
|Flowers from Sicily, found on James Hull's Italy Photo Blog|
But the whomper here, the magic morpher that entered my life just as I was thinking "hey, I haven't met a good morpher in a while"--which I happened to think while wearing my beloved Chamade during the period of not thinking, one of the uber-morphers in my playbook--the crazy morphing something from Parfumerie General, Aomassai.
Unlike Chamade, which is pretty and then stunningly beautiful, Aomassai is intriguing but difficult, then nearly ugly, then a small fugue of those two plus a third, kindly smell personality. The burnt caramel opening is one of those things that triggers the "check the oven!" danger reflex, but also pulls me in to sniff it again. And again. Is it burnt badly or not? Then some chocolate thing, not sweet, starts weaving through. Then sweet somewhat threatens, then the not sweet chocolate tones it down, then you worry about calling the fire department again.
And that's just the first round.
Then you get placed in some sort of grass hut, it's kind of damp, and you're pretty sure it's started to molder. It's interesting, but like the first round, you don't know that you really want to be here. In fact, you start realizing that for all the challenges of the first round, this second act could possibly suffocate you if this is going to be where you are left. Because you might dare visit that grass hut, you might wear that wet basket on your head, but you would never plan on carrying through the rest of the day that way.
For me, thankfully, then comes a breath of air. Of course, whatever was cooking in the oven comes wafting back through (it was at this point I realized I maybe had smelled burnt hazelnuts earlier on, which is a horrible smell, btw, but never came fully through), but at this point, it's more than okay. And, if you are patient and wait for it, you'll live through a fugue of where you've been and what is coming and then finally settle in a zone that is comfort scent. Yes, intelligent, intriguing comfort scent, perhaps held cozy all the more so for the earlier tussling. Now the caramel is just toasted, but has depth from the spices, the cocoa, the wood...and the tussling.
So there you have it. I've been on a perfume hiatus, and actually still kind of feel like I'm yawning and stretching and getting ready for whatever is coming next. But then I blindsided you (and myself) with a trio of new smells.
You go deep, you come out. Cycles.
first photo is author's own
fiori di sicilia from the King Arthur online catalog
Check out Wikipedia's disambiguation page on Morphology -- linguistics, astronomy, math, rivers, more. It's a fun launching pad for hunting and gathering. Food for thought in terms of how things change. And a bit of a chuckle...would that I could disambiguate myself...