I was in a bit a funk this past winter. My friend told me that long walks in the fresh air should help. My better half said yoga and vitamins. I took my vitamin D enriched cod liver oil and vitamin C. I’m having long walks regularly, in fact my work commute involves about 50 mins of that on a daily basis. I didn’t do yoga. I’m lazy and yoga bores me. I prefer to read. I’ve indulged in shopping therapy too: a brow chakra bracelet (I don’t do yoga but I like the symbolism, and I can’t be expected to resist a combination of gold and lapis lazuli at sale prices) and of course perfume. Quite a bit of it, but the only one that sort of helped with easing the fog in my brain was Mohur. If you ask me why, I haven’t a clue. It simply did. It helped me cope with this weird, black cloud hanging sadness thing. Beauty always consoles me, but this time it took Mohur‘s kind of beauty only. Everything else I was putting on grated me the wrong way: too strong, too slutty, too green, too smoky, too virginal, too happy, too sweet, you name it, nothing worked. Until I sprayed Mohur, that is. I could almost hear my heart and mind rustily clicking into place, shifting gears towards a calmer, brighter place. It is one of those rare fragrances which, in spite of it wearing like dandelion puffs on skin, it’s not spineless. The creamy, spiced rose whisp felt like a caress on my fried synapses and like lowering my trembling, cold body into a decadent milk bath, sumptuously scattered with velvety flower petals and my favorite, addictive Cardamom and Ambrette seeds, something fit for queen Cleopatra. I nearly cried with relief: “Thank you, Bertrand Duchaufour, this is so warm, so comforting, so kind, thank you, thank you, it’s exactly what I freaking needed it right now!” Mohur has the softness and tenderness of a mother’s touch, but also the poised elegance, the dignified composure of a high society lady. A character it reminds me a lot of is Ellen O’Hara, Scarlett’s mother in “Gone with the Wind”, the epithome of a true Southern gentlewoman, compassionate and caring almost to a fault, yet a stately presence, which imposed instantaneous respect wherever she went, even amongst rough, loose morals people. Scarlett always wanted to emulate her mother, but she never could, of course. Her stubborn, selfish, rebellious nature was impossible to contain within the self-effacing-for-the-sake-of others frame of her noble mother’s personality. Nevertheless, she needed her. Ellen’s perfect, oval face and Tara’s white, Greek style columns is what she kept seeing during the horrific road trip alongside defeated, retreating Confederate troops, they were what kept her pushing through the darkness in a rickety cart with only the help of a lame horse and a pistol hidden in the folds of her skirt. Ellen was her safety beacon, and Mohur was my safety beacon in the absence of my mother, the closest thing I had to her warm bosom, her rocking arms and her voice whispering in my ear: “There, there, child, stop fretting, everything is fine, there, there, my love, let me wipe your tears, shhhhhh, baby. Life is OK, my dearest, even when it’s sad, you’ll reach that shore, I promise. Just go with it, honey, just be, it’s all that’s needed”. It’s all I can tell you myself about Mohur. If you want to read about how it actually smells like head over to Claire’s review here or Alexandra’s review here. Both are perfect.
NOTES: Cardamom, Coriander, Ambrette, Carrot, Black Pepper, Elemi, Turkish Rose Oil, Jasmine, Orris, Hawthorn, Almond Milk Accord, Leather, Sandalwood, Amber, Patchouli, Oudh Palao from Laos, Benzoin, Vanilla, Tonka Bean