I think I would be happy in that place I happen not to be, and this question of moving house is the subject of a perpetual dialog I have with my soul. Charles Baudelaire
There are days when I want to not be where I am. And when I am unsure if there really exists an alternative place to be. When I want to escape somewhere where no one can find me. A non-existent island paradise under scorching sun, with no phones, no internet, no memories and no ties. An island unknown to any map, the one that planes and ships won't reach...maybe somewhere right in the middle of the Bermuda triangle. There are days when I realize that there is no escape other than by means of olfactory daydreaming.
And this is where the languid otherworldliness of Mahora comes in. My island where no one can get me would smell like that, of sweet, creamy white flowers larger than life: of ylang, tuberose and jasmine. It would smell of ripe oranges and peaches, of sinfully thick vanilla... Mahora's unpopularity and it's "heavy, heady, overwhelming" reputation puzzle me. I find it immensely beautiful, perhaps intense but also soft and soothing. Comforting in a way that tuberose can be sometimes, warmly, envelopingly maternal....a quality you wouldn't expect from such a femme fatale flower. The honeyed citrusy beginning is particularly tender, a mouthwatering tropical skin scent. After a while the fragrance does explode on my skin like a firework of thousand white petals...but the floral abundance is rendered so harmoniously here, it does not numb the senses, instead, it soothes and at the same time excites them. The drydown has the coconutty sweetness of tanned skin polished by the sea and passionately kissed by the sun...When I wear Mahora, I am Girl Friday to no Robinson, on an island that no one will ever find, hard as they try.
Mahora is available at PerfumeMart, $29.80-$54.75.
The photo is by Ellen Von Unwerth.