Bottle of O’driu Pathetique and Chris Riddell illustration effects by Nicoleta
“Be kind, do good, don’t forget who you are, trust your story.”
Could it be this simple?
Pathetique, from the etymology of the name itself, we already have some keys of understanding: for once the Greek root “pathos” we have “passion”, but also suffering, as they come hand-in-hand; but also “Path Etique”, that mixes English and French to say “Ethical Path”.
Upon first smelling O’driu Pathetique and falling in love with it, it conjured up in my mind the image and parable of one of my favorite books: “Instructions” by Neil Gaiman: a poem – turned – storybook and otherworldly illustrated by Charles Vess. Disguised as a children’s book, Instructions has a deeper layer of fairy tale wisdom, having myths, themes, and leitmotifs compressed into easy to follow, simplistic but profound life lessons tailored for a good and ethical life. “Be kind, do good, don’t forget who you are, trust your story.”
Walk down the path, Charles Vess illustration and O’driu Pathetique digital effects by Nicoleta
First blood, first smell:
“Touch the wooden gate in the wall you never saw before.
Say “please” before you open the latch, go through,
walk down the path.
A red metal imp hangs from the green-painted front door,
as a knocker, do not touch it; it will bite your fingers.
Walk through the house. Take nothing. Eat nothing.”
O’driu Pathetique opens up with a blast of sticky, almost palatable sweet glue smell (responsible of all kinds of nostalgia for us, eastern Europeans, as it was the sort of glue we would use in kindergarten activities and secretly scoop out and eat, with the little yellow plastic spoon that came with it). The aroma turns coconutty, a bit burned, a bit bitter, a woodland siren luring us deeper, accompanied by pollen floral honeyed accords, with promises of cool shadows and a bitter earthy truffle that peers at us from the darkness.
The Witch Wood, Charles Vess illustration
“Once through the garden, you will be in the wood.
The trees are old. Eyes peer from the under-growth.
Beneath a twisted oak sits an old woman. She may ask for something;
give it to her. She will point the way to the castle.”
Keith Woodard Photography
A mossy forest floor lies before us deep, green, bitter and dry, with bushes of blackberries shaken by an unseen gust of wind, the whoosh of the piles of yellow leaves crackling, trapped in the whirlwind, the air all sweetened up by the Amyris Wood that oozes roundness, dimension and gives ultra-realism to the cedar and pine needles and cones.
“When you reach the little house, the place your journey started,you will recognize it, although it will seem much smaller than you remember.”
The drydown closes the circle, ouroboros style, eating its tail, rolled on the sunwheel, back to where it all began, with all that woody sweetness, a bit worn out from the road, extinguishing itself in a pale serpent dance of incense smoke. Ever since I discovered O’Drieu Pathetique, last spring, I can’t imagine my life without having this dark but whimsical “olfactive reality augmentation filter” on, over and over again, like a compass pointing to my north, no matter what happens: “Be kind, do good, don’t forget who you are, trust your story.” Maybe it IS that simple.
Notes: truffle, bergamot, incense, juniper berry, black pepper, woody notes, oakmoss, mimosa, vetiver and amyris wood.
Nicoleta Tomsa, Senior Contributor
Disclosure: My own bottle, opinions are my own
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