Perfume Review: Diptyque L’Ombre dans L’Eau and Virgilio
Dacha (Russian: дача) is a name for summer home or vacation house in Russia and CIS countries where people spend their summer holidays and grow fruits and vegetables for their own use. Dachas began to appear after WWII owing to the desire of city people, all living in blocks of flats, to spend some time close to nature, and to grow their own produce. Dachas are usually situated on the city outskirts, or near villages located close to a city. The common term for a dacha owner is 'dachnik' (Russian: дачник).
From Wikipedia and my own memories.
Continuing with the scents that remind me of my childhood, L’Ombre dans L’Eau and Virgilio bring back the memories of my great grandparents and their dacha. Diptyque’s Virgilio, with notes of cedar, basil, thyme, and vetiver, was created by Diptyque to evoke the clear morning of a classical Latin landscape. The landscape it brings to my mind is Russian, not Latin, but it is fresh, green and idyllic nevertheless. Smelling Virgilio is akin to standing in the farthest and the darkest corner of my great-grandparents garden, by the wormwood overgrowth. Virgilio to me is that dark green, earthy and bitter scent of wormwood. This isn’t an easy fragrance for me to wear, as I am not really a fan of herbal and green scents, but I am holding on to my bottle if only for the incredible, heartbreaking evocativeness of this scent.
Another “scent of Dacha” is L’Ombre dans L’Eau, described by Diptyque as the scent of a green riverside garden. L’Ombre dans L’Eau (definitely one of the most beautiful perfume names out there) starts as an amazingly real scent of blackcurrant leaves, slowly a rose note develops, and it is a “young” rose, practically a bud, it smells almost “green” to my nose. Both notes are incredibly true to life, smelling just like the real berries, leaves and buds warmed by the sun. L’Ombre dans L’Eau brings back the memories of hot summers, of picking blackcurrants from the bush, of dear people long gone, of the place that doesn't exist anymore, and of absolute happiness.
I will leave you with the wonderful poem by my beloved Pablo Neruda, called Lost in the Forest.
Lost in the forest, I broke off a dark twig
and lifted its whisper to my thirsty lips:
maybe it was the voice of the rain crying,
a cracked bell, or a torn heart.
Something from far off it seemed
deep and secret to me, hidden by the earth,
a shout muffled by huge autumns,
by the moist half-open darkness of the leaves.
Wakening from the dreaming forest there, the hazel-sprig
sang under my tongue, its drifting fragrance
climbed up through my conscious mind
as if suddenly the roots I had left behind
cried out to me, the land I had lost with my childhood---
and I stopped, wounded by the wandering scent.
*The picture of blackcurrants is from the wonderful site http://www.dnagardens.com/ , the picture of wormwood is from http://bob.bob.bofh.org/ .