Where Jasmine Forest Blooms
Much of my scent vocabulary comes from Poltava, a town in central Ukraine where I spent all summers for the first 15 years of my life. I was born in the capital city of Kyiv, but Berig, a small hamlet near the town of Poltava, is our family nest. My mother’s line can trace its […]
The post Where Jasmine Forest Blooms appeared first on Bois de Jasmin.
Much of my scent vocabulary comes from Poltava, a town in central Ukraine where I spent all summers for the first 15 years of my life. I was born in the capital city of Kyiv, but Berig, a small hamlet near the town of Poltava, is our family nest. My mother’s line can trace its roots to this region as far back as the 17th century, and although in its complex and tumultuous history four centuries are hardly ancient, this land exhorts an inexorable pull on me. Â I can describe without much effort how many trees are in the orchard and which of the peeling grey shutters has a difficult to use hook, but I also can recall the exact scent inside the water tank, the damp warmth of the tool shed, and the bitter, raspy odor of dandelion flowers on the compost pile.
As you read Bois de Jasmin, you breathe in these scents along with me. The roots of Bois de Jasmin, my jasmine forest, are in Berig. When describing the fragrance of carnations, roses, or woods, I think not of the fantasy blooms that inspired Caron?s Bellodgia or Guerlain?s Nahéma, but my great-grandmother?s carnations, roses, and termite-marked chests of d...
The post Where Jasmine Forest Blooms appeared first on Bois de Jasmin.
Much of my scent vocabulary comes from Poltava, a town in central Ukraine where I spent all summers for the first 15 years of my life. I was born in the capital city of Kyiv, but Berig, a small hamlet near the town of Poltava, is our family nest. My mother’s line can trace its roots to this region as far back as the 17th century, and although in its complex and tumultuous history four centuries are hardly ancient, this land exhorts an inexorable pull on me. Â I can describe without much effort how many trees are in the orchard and which of the peeling grey shutters has a difficult to use hook, but I also can recall the exact scent inside the water tank, the damp warmth of the tool shed, and the bitter, raspy odor of dandelion flowers on the compost pile.
As you read Bois de Jasmin, you breathe in these scents along with me. The roots of Bois de Jasmin, my jasmine forest, are in Berig. When describing the fragrance of carnations, roses, or woods, I think not of the fantasy blooms that inspired Caron?s Bellodgia or Guerlain?s Nahéma, but my great-grandmother?s carnations, roses, and termite-marked chests of d...
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