Sheiduna. Sheitan’s bride? A she-dune? Seduction? Is that how they named you, I asked the perfume. Why?
It is all of this and more, yet with utmost elegance.
Here it was, right under my nose, the new perfume Sheiduna by Puredistance – Master Perfumes. An intriguing one, packed in an elegant bottle, smooth and heavy in my hand, with wow-baam! perfume percentage – where will it take me, I wondered. The niche house of Puredistance always seemed promising to me (feel free to click and learn more).
Yesterday, on a rainy Autumn Saturday, I went briefly to the nearest open market, desperately in need of Vitamin C. The past week was hectic, and while I tremendously enjoy workout and dancing, the last training I had with long series of side abs obliques workout left me feeling my each and every rib, my whole rib cage sore with muscle pain.
As I walked into the market and lifted my umbrella, a sudden rush of orange color was all around me. It is the season of mandarins, fresh, bright orange, citrus’n’honey smelling, little balls of sunshine and sweetness! The benches in the open-air market were filled with them, big heaps of mandarines, some still with leaves and branches, just picked, brightening up the day.
On my way home I peeled one tangerine and left the peels in the open bag: that sweet smell in the car already made me feel better. It took me away, bringing back an old olfactory memory.
It kind of surprised me, again. I do live in a moderate continental climate, four seasons and all, but still!
Dusky, chilly mornings when you draw in a breath of the crispy smell of Autumn, the olfactory vision of wet ground, cinnamon-colored leaves, rays of sunshine weaving through the clouds, earthy and woody scents soothing your nose: just recently I was reminiscent of Summer, clinging to fresh notes, desperately in need of “Vitamin Sea”.
Just last Sunday my father handed me a few plums, freshly picked from a tree in his garden. Hot and ripe. Like Poison.
That luscious, sweet, fruity smell transported me within a second on a late September day when I impatiently unwrapped my birthday present. It was 1986. I held in my hands my very own, very first, very grown-up perfume. I was dreaming about it since I first saw the bottle (never had a chance to smell a tester or really try it on, it was a wild desire based on an advertising photo). Nothing I have ever smelled felt a scent like that, and all the girly, fresh, light, and youth tainted perfumes I was familiar with were simply bombed away with this one.
Fig is a fruit without a visible flower, a symbol of blessing and prosperity in the ancient world, a symbol of sexuality and modesty in the Renaissance, and a lovely perfume note today. The sensuous smell of figs!