Neringa Svobutaite with her bottle of Jo Malone Velvet Rose and Oud Cologne Intense
The evening sky burned as it was set ablaze, vivid shades of deepest orange verging on crimson-red, molten gold and ambery yellow all seamlessly blended into one another, painting the most mesmerising of sunsets. With every gust of warm midsummer wind blowing in through the open doors heavy golden curtains moved, caressed by each gust touching them so softly – as if only to tease; the aromas of dry, scorched desert air mixed with lingering exotic shisha smoke and intoxicating, obscenely heady scent of richest, lushest blood red roses alive and pulsating, oozing out a honeyed fruity sweetness, their velvety soft petals smouldering and charred around the edges; filled the room.
Edmund Dulac 1939, Illustration for 10001 Arabian Nights via wiki
Dimly lit, nothing but a few candles quietly flickering, it’s tall walls and floors of marble and pure gold, expensive Persian rugs and jewel-shaded velvet and satin pillows scattered on the floor; it’s air thick and decadent with burning incense and luxurious fragrant oils intermingling with wisps and curls of heady oud smoke, it’s walls adorned with heavy burnished-gold framed paintings. She flicked the curl of her dark hair cascading onto the shoulders in unruly, carefree waves, her skin palest porcelain and soft as the finest satin gleamed under the dim candle lights, smelling of innocence and mischief – of tender, pink roses, their fragile petals dipped in sensual musks – a telltale of summer nights tainted with love, passion and lust; her cheeks aglow, flushed crimson and moist with tiny beads of her sweat as she continued to skillfully and seductively move her slight, toned body to the rhythm of exotic music playing in the background….
Edmund Dulac, 1001 Arabain Nights via wiki
I woke up drenched in cold sweat, the kind that soaks your hair, your sheets, and as it felt – the deepest, most guarded corners of your soul – too; gasping for air, rush of vivid memories dizzyingly alive. As I glanced around my small room, I realised it was nothing but a dream – the tall walls and floors of marble and pure gold, decadent with exotic curls of smoke, and those crimson-red, charred roses pulsating their intoxicating aroma were now nothing but a scattered fragment deeply engraved into my memory.
A dream that was set to haunt me, over and over again…
Edmund Dulac 1001 Arabian Nights
You see, I never felt I truly belonged where I was born. From the very young age my fascination with all things Arabian became apparent as soon as I could read – I would get lost in the pages of tales about exotic faraway lands – souks and spice bazaars with incense and myrrh and saffron aplenty, of magic carpets traveling the star-studded sky, taking me on the journeys to uncover the guarded secrets of 1001 nights and the mysterious golden desert under the scorching sun; my tiny fingers tirelessly flicking page after another, painting vivid images in my head, mesmerised and completely lost in my own thoughts. I imagined how amazing those faraway lands filled with exotic aromas must have smelled.
Neringa’s first olfactive encounter Lithuania 1987
Despite my early days spent dreaming of spice-studded Arabian tales, the only real scent memory I have from my childhood is that of freshly-cut pine trees. Every year, right before Christmas, in the depth of Eastern European winter me and my father would make a trip to the nearby forest to cut our own tree. Rosy-cheeked, my tiny gloved hand in his, big innocent eyes alight with excitement, we would walk, snow crunching under our footsteps – purest crystal white, as the smell – intoxicatingly sweet and balsamic, wonderfully crisp and spicy lingered around us. Perfume came into my life quite late, in my teens, when at the local cosmetics shop I stumbled upon a tall, slim looking bottle that peaked my curiosity. Housed inside was the most beautifully tender aroma, that of honeyed, iris-like powdery airiness, of brightest sunshine yellow, it’s glistening rays dancing and twirling and pirouetting atop my skin, gingerly planting warm kisses. I was bewitched!
The mesmerising scent I fell in love with as a young girl, scent I grew up with, blossoming from a naïve teenager to young woman – taking me through a painful journey of discovering of who I was and un-learning who I was. The scent that guarded and shielded me through the hurt and sorrow and heartache after my father’s passing. That very same scent of whirlwind of emotions stayed in my memory all these years, and although I have forgotten its name and I have forgotten its bottle, but the scent – the scent itself, like a deep wound that never truly healed, opening time and time again at the slightest touch against it; would haunt my dreams and my waking days no matter where I went or how far I wandered in hopes to escape the years of void and loneliness and loss, and the aroma of powder tainted by heartbreak.
“If some lives form a perfect circle, other take shape in ways we cannot predict or always understand. Loss has been part of my journey. But it has also shown me what is precious” ~ Nicholas Sparks
Neringa’s bottle of Jo Malone Mimosa and Cardamom
My travels helped me find solace, to heal the old wound caused by something I had no control over, to finally come to peace with the fact that loss, just as everything else in life, is nothing but an inevitable part of it. Until one day, day when I accidentally stumbled upon Jo Malone Mimosa and Cardamom.
It broke me.
That was it!! Mimosa! I instantly recognised its soft, pollen-kissed powderiness. And it all came crashing down in waves and ripples of sorrow and pain and loss, unpicking the old scar and leaving exposed would to bleed again…It was the most bittersweet kind of déjà vu! For a year – 365 days to be exact I didn’t wear perfume. 365 days it took me to forget that encounter with Jo Malone Mimosa and Cardamom. 365 nights it took me to cry-out all the emotions I thought I no longer carried only to find them buried in the deepest, darkest most guarded corners of my very being.
365 suns and moons to let go….
Jo Malone lighting does strike twice.
Jo Malone Velvet Rose and Oud Cologne Intense, photo by Neringa Svobutaite – life_through_her_lens
They say some of the best things come into our lives when we least expect it. And it did.
On the 25th December 2016 to be precise.
Jo Malone Velvet Rose and Oud Cologne Intense stormed into my life like a tornado, a hurricane, a deepest crimson-red blaze, her petals smouldering and charred around the edges, breaking my heart and mending it all at once.
Rose photo by Neringa
Voluptuous and erotic like the folds of softest satin gliding and draping over ones naked skin, it’s seductive heart of roses painted in the shades of deepest, richest crimson-red plush velvet, alive and pulsating, oozing out a honeyed fruity sweetness in such a naturalistic way that they resembled roses growing in a garden; spiked with heaps of spicy, intoxicating cloves and wrapped in decadently sweet praline that twinkled shades of amber and molten gold in the candlelight. But it wasn’t just the voluptuous roses pulsating with such carnal intensity which I have never experienced before that took my breath away, no! Startled, I sat staring at the black glass bottle in my hands.
Jo Malone Velvet Rose and Oud Cologne Intense photo by Neringa
That was it!!
The scent I instantly recognised.
The scent I knew so well, soul-deep!
The scent of the tall walls and floors of marble and pure gold, decadent with exotic curls of smoke, and the roses crimson-red set ablaze.
The scent of my dream that haunted me, over and over again….
The scent I needed to finally become free.
The Scent called Jo Malone Velvet Rose and Oud Cologne Intense
Notes: Damask Rose, Oud, Praline, Clove
Guest Contributor, Neringa Svobutait (life_through_her_lens)
Have you ever smelt a perfume that you knew right away would change your life or made you think you were meant to live in another time or place? Are you familiar with Jo Malone Velvet Roses and Oud Cologne Intense?
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