An Invaluable Essence was first published by the Corvus Review in March 2016.
An Invaluable Essence
Top notes of ginger and bergamot. Middle notes of green tea and orange. Base notes of musk, cloves and patchouli. It made a million in its first quarter and was deemed a wild success by all my perfumer peers. To me, though – it was just the latest item on my catalogue of failures.
Most people never think of fragrance as particularly important. They might miss seeing a lover, they may pine to hear his or her voice, but rarely do they lament the loss of their scent – even when it's such a powerful part of who they are.
It was never that way with me. I suppose I was just blessed with a particularly strong sense of smell – at least that's what the biographers cited as the sole reason for my success. I was just seemingly more attuned to the world's cacophony of scents, every one of them vied for my attention and so only the very best stood out.
I discovered this bizarre talent at my first perfumery, a job I only went for because I needed the money at the time. The problem was that everything my colleagues concocted smelled so mediocre to me, I felt like a frustrated honeybee making do with cheap supermarket flowers. I wanted to flourish there, I wanted to make the most out of a bad situation, and one day I was finally given the chance!
We were told that the company needed a new brand, something that would evoke the glamour of the roaring 20s but with a twist for the 'modern' woman. I set about work immediately and quickly concocted the most satisfying fragrance – one that made my nostrils dance with joy. Soon after, it was announced that I had won the little company competition, although I received no special fanfare or thanks.
That all changed when the fragrance was finally released to the public... The way they reacted, the things they said – you would have been forgiven for believing Jesus himself had produced the bottle! I was a magician, an artist, one critic even called me an oracle!
To me, it was all faintly ridiculous. To me, it was just a very pleasant aroma. When that first product hit store shelves, that's when I knew I was different. What was good for me – was magical for everybody else.
I slowly became envious of the public; I even began to resent them. I wanted to experience that euphoria they all seemed to share, but nothing I produced ever seemed to work. Then one evening, at a terribly dull fashion show, my nostrils started to quiver and my heart leapt with joy. It was like some fairytale the Grimm brothers might have penned, I was the Princess being awakened, at last, by an utterly intoxicating aroma! There, on the other side of the room, stood my living ambrosia. Jan was his name.
I rushed to be near him, quickly brushing off the various fashionistas and interviewers who attempted to catch a word with me. Usually, I would be as gregarious as possible, but that night I just wanted to know that man.
Hours felt like mere minutes with him, and my career was put firmly on hold as we talked for the entire evening! Until that moment, I had never even given a passing thought to being with somebody – yet there I was. As it turned out, Jan was a fan of mine. I had never made many fragrances for the male market, but what little I had produced, Jan had snapped up! It was slightly embarrassing, really. It seemed almost an insult that he was masking his natural essence with my mediocrity!
Still, we became inseparable from that day forward; I think much of it must have been chemical? I don't think it would have been possible otherwise for everything to happen so fast. I just couldn't be away from him, if I ever was, life would lose its lustre. We became each other's muses; he was my beloved blossom, eternally youthful, so full of life – always inspiring me to produce better work! He called me his 'starlet', more beautiful than anything the silver screen had ever seen. That stuck with me, that phrase. At first I always thought he was teasing, I know I've never really been beautiful. But to him at least, I really was special, I really was somebody.
For years we lived together in almost perfect harmony and during that time I created some of my most commercially successful work. That wasn't enough though, I wanted to strive to replicate the effect he had on me, to somehow create a scent that would make my heart soar like the way he always made it do. I think my determination had a positive effect on him, too, as the films he shot started to shoot up to the top of the box office. It wasn't uncommon during that stage of our lives for the two of us to be interviewed together, but in the end, all that success didn't matter. The only thing that counted for either of us was the fact we had each other. We thought it would always be that way.
That was until...one day…he wasn't there anymore.
I just couldn't accept it. He was my blossom, so full of life. I waited for him; everyday I expected a letter to fall through the post, to have my nostrils quiver again like that night we first met. But they never did, no letter ever arrived.
Eventually, people stopped waiting with me, they slowly began to return to their everyday lives. I couldn't understand that, I couldn't see how they could calmly move on while there was a storm brewing in my heart. I was lost at sea and my guiding light had vanished. I was asked time and again to return to work, but I knew that I couldn't, not without my muse, not without my beloved.
For a time, I surrounded myself with all the things Jan had left behind, each one of them a relic containing a little of his essence – a fraction of who he was. Until then, I had loved how my fragrances slowly evaporated over time, their ephemeral nature not only kept me in business but it also made my work more special – a tiny treasure to be enjoyed only for a moment. What I had once loved had become something cruel and mocking, as each of Jan's possessions slowly smelled less and less like him. Eventually, to me at least, it was as if each of them ceased to house any part of his soul at all.
Losing him once was unspeakably painful, I simply couldn't lose him for a second time. So, after two years of remaining stationary in a state of mourning, I finally picked myself up and went to find my new fragrance. This was to be a painful journey, I knew that, but I also knew that on the other side I would find Jan. I had been blessed with a gift, however trivial it may have seemed to other people, and in smelling Jan, in some small way, it was like having him back – I needed to recapture that.
Designing an artificial fragrance to smell just like a lost loved one seemed like an almost impossible task. In some ways it was. I refused to give in, though. With each new attempt I inched closer to my destination, and every new mixture helped weave together the pieces that Jan had left behind. I've often heard it said that the journey is more important than the destination and that finally made sense to me during this time.
Certain smells stored in my studio reinvigorated my memory and they transported me back through the entirety of our relationship, if only for a moment. One day I would be dancing with Jan in the ballrooms of Vienna, the next I'd be sitting along the Seine breathing in the cool air – my hand resting in his. In the end, though, I would always come back to my studio, enriched by the journey but longing to return to my fantasies.
Even so, there had to come a time when the road would end, when I would finally find what I had so desperately searched for. That moment came a full year after I took my first step on this path. As soon as that final fragrance hit me, I knew that I had finally found it. I had always thought of this journey as mythical, an impossible dream that I would strive for but never truly accomplish. I was meant to be like some conquistador hunting for El Dorado, my mountains of gold were never supposed to be found. Yet, I had done it, and for the briefest moment it was like having Jan back.
To my surprise, I immediately closed the container. It hurt – it was painful. I'd dreamed of this moment over and over – it had occupied my every waking thought. I'd have given away all my worldly possessions just for a single bottle of Jan's essence. To me, it was worth more than all the money in the world.
Yet there I was, transfixed on the very thing I'd searched for, but completely unable to dare breath it in again. It was him, but it wasn't him. For that second, it was like having him in front of me again – just like that night we first met. Except...I knew that he wasn't there…and he never would be again.
That's when I realised why I felt so numb. It was as if I had created a diluted version of him, and it was the ultimate insult to his memory. My creation needed to be as unique as he was – it had to be a limited edition of just one bottle. I promised myself there and then that I would never make another. That way, the bottle would represent him and it would remain that way forever. Once sealed, I would never open it again. I would know what treasure was inside and have the comfort of Jan always being close to me. Nothing else would do him justice.
Originally, I had planned on producing enough to fill my life with it, constantly surrounding myself with a part of him. Now I realised how much of a mistake that dream was, and that this was the only way I could find happiness with my achievement. Jan's essence was to be my last ever creation.
I wanted to savour the moment, a breath in time so close to perfection. There was only one thing separating my final work from completion and I was paralysed with a fear of going through with it. After I reached my ultimate goal, what would be left? At that moment, it was a choice between resurrecting some small part of my love, or still keeping alive a once seemingly impossible dream. A dream which was the only thing keeping me producing commercially successful products. When I put it in those terms, the choice finally seemed so obvious. Since Jan left, nothing I made ever made me happy. All I wanted was this one bottle. All I wanted was him.
I breathed in deeply, my whole body shaking with anticipation. Achingly slowly, I steadied my hand and inched it towards my desk drawer, pulling out a single blank bottle label. My pen danced across the paper one final time, forming a name that summed up everything that Jan was and always would be to me...
‘'My Beloved Blossom.'
Most people never think of fragrance as particularly important. They might miss seeing a lover, they may pine to hear his or her voice, but rarely do they lament the loss of their scent – even when it's such a powerful part of who they are.
It was never that way with me. I suppose I was just blessed with a particularly strong sense of smell – at least that's what the biographers cited as the sole reason for my success. I was just seemingly more attuned to the world's cacophony of scents, every one of them vied for my attention and so only the very best stood out.
I discovered this bizarre talent at my first perfumery, a job I only went for because I needed the money at the time. The problem was that everything my colleagues concocted smelled so mediocre to me, I felt like a frustrated honeybee making do with cheap supermarket flowers. I wanted to flourish there, I wanted to make the most out of a bad situation, and one day I was finally given the chance!
We were told that the company needed a new brand, something that would evoke the glamour of the roaring 20s but with a twist for the 'modern' woman. I set about work immediately and quickly concocted the most satisfying fragrance – one that made my nostrils dance with joy. Soon after, it was announced that I had won the little company competition, although I received no special fanfare or thanks.
That all changed when the fragrance was finally released to the public... The way they reacted, the things they said – you would have been forgiven for believing Jesus himself had produced the bottle! I was a magician, an artist, one critic even called me an oracle!
To me, it was all faintly ridiculous. To me, it was just a very pleasant aroma. When that first product hit store shelves, that's when I knew I was different. What was good for me – was magical for everybody else.
I slowly became envious of the public; I even began to resent them. I wanted to experience that euphoria they all seemed to share, but nothing I produced ever seemed to work. Then one evening, at a terribly dull fashion show, my nostrils started to quiver and my heart leapt with joy. It was like some fairytale the Grimm brothers might have penned, I was the Princess being awakened, at last, by an utterly intoxicating aroma! There, on the other side of the room, stood my living ambrosia. Jan was his name.
I rushed to be near him, quickly brushing off the various fashionistas and interviewers who attempted to catch a word with me. Usually, I would be as gregarious as possible, but that night I just wanted to know that man.
Hours felt like mere minutes with him, and my career was put firmly on hold as we talked for the entire evening! Until that moment, I had never even given a passing thought to being with somebody – yet there I was. As it turned out, Jan was a fan of mine. I had never made many fragrances for the male market, but what little I had produced, Jan had snapped up! It was slightly embarrassing, really. It seemed almost an insult that he was masking his natural essence with my mediocrity!
Still, we became inseparable from that day forward; I think much of it must have been chemical? I don't think it would have been possible otherwise for everything to happen so fast. I just couldn't be away from him, if I ever was, life would lose its lustre. We became each other's muses; he was my beloved blossom, eternally youthful, so full of life – always inspiring me to produce better work! He called me his 'starlet', more beautiful than anything the silver screen had ever seen. That stuck with me, that phrase. At first I always thought he was teasing, I know I've never really been beautiful. But to him at least, I really was special, I really was somebody.
For years we lived together in almost perfect harmony and during that time I created some of my most commercially successful work. That wasn't enough though, I wanted to strive to replicate the effect he had on me, to somehow create a scent that would make my heart soar like the way he always made it do. I think my determination had a positive effect on him, too, as the films he shot started to shoot up to the top of the box office. It wasn't uncommon during that stage of our lives for the two of us to be interviewed together, but in the end, all that success didn't matter. The only thing that counted for either of us was the fact we had each other. We thought it would always be that way.
That was until...one day…he wasn't there anymore.
I just couldn't accept it. He was my blossom, so full of life. I waited for him; everyday I expected a letter to fall through the post, to have my nostrils quiver again like that night we first met. But they never did, no letter ever arrived.
Eventually, people stopped waiting with me, they slowly began to return to their everyday lives. I couldn't understand that, I couldn't see how they could calmly move on while there was a storm brewing in my heart. I was lost at sea and my guiding light had vanished. I was asked time and again to return to work, but I knew that I couldn't, not without my muse, not without my beloved.
For a time, I surrounded myself with all the things Jan had left behind, each one of them a relic containing a little of his essence – a fraction of who he was. Until then, I had loved how my fragrances slowly evaporated over time, their ephemeral nature not only kept me in business but it also made my work more special – a tiny treasure to be enjoyed only for a moment. What I had once loved had become something cruel and mocking, as each of Jan's possessions slowly smelled less and less like him. Eventually, to me at least, it was as if each of them ceased to house any part of his soul at all.
Losing him once was unspeakably painful, I simply couldn't lose him for a second time. So, after two years of remaining stationary in a state of mourning, I finally picked myself up and went to find my new fragrance. This was to be a painful journey, I knew that, but I also knew that on the other side I would find Jan. I had been blessed with a gift, however trivial it may have seemed to other people, and in smelling Jan, in some small way, it was like having him back – I needed to recapture that.
Designing an artificial fragrance to smell just like a lost loved one seemed like an almost impossible task. In some ways it was. I refused to give in, though. With each new attempt I inched closer to my destination, and every new mixture helped weave together the pieces that Jan had left behind. I've often heard it said that the journey is more important than the destination and that finally made sense to me during this time.
Certain smells stored in my studio reinvigorated my memory and they transported me back through the entirety of our relationship, if only for a moment. One day I would be dancing with Jan in the ballrooms of Vienna, the next I'd be sitting along the Seine breathing in the cool air – my hand resting in his. In the end, though, I would always come back to my studio, enriched by the journey but longing to return to my fantasies.
Even so, there had to come a time when the road would end, when I would finally find what I had so desperately searched for. That moment came a full year after I took my first step on this path. As soon as that final fragrance hit me, I knew that I had finally found it. I had always thought of this journey as mythical, an impossible dream that I would strive for but never truly accomplish. I was meant to be like some conquistador hunting for El Dorado, my mountains of gold were never supposed to be found. Yet, I had done it, and for the briefest moment it was like having Jan back.
To my surprise, I immediately closed the container. It hurt – it was painful. I'd dreamed of this moment over and over – it had occupied my every waking thought. I'd have given away all my worldly possessions just for a single bottle of Jan's essence. To me, it was worth more than all the money in the world.
Yet there I was, transfixed on the very thing I'd searched for, but completely unable to dare breath it in again. It was him, but it wasn't him. For that second, it was like having him in front of me again – just like that night we first met. Except...I knew that he wasn't there…and he never would be again.
That's when I realised why I felt so numb. It was as if I had created a diluted version of him, and it was the ultimate insult to his memory. My creation needed to be as unique as he was – it had to be a limited edition of just one bottle. I promised myself there and then that I would never make another. That way, the bottle would represent him and it would remain that way forever. Once sealed, I would never open it again. I would know what treasure was inside and have the comfort of Jan always being close to me. Nothing else would do him justice.
Originally, I had planned on producing enough to fill my life with it, constantly surrounding myself with a part of him. Now I realised how much of a mistake that dream was, and that this was the only way I could find happiness with my achievement. Jan's essence was to be my last ever creation.
I wanted to savour the moment, a breath in time so close to perfection. There was only one thing separating my final work from completion and I was paralysed with a fear of going through with it. After I reached my ultimate goal, what would be left? At that moment, it was a choice between resurrecting some small part of my love, or still keeping alive a once seemingly impossible dream. A dream which was the only thing keeping me producing commercially successful products. When I put it in those terms, the choice finally seemed so obvious. Since Jan left, nothing I made ever made me happy. All I wanted was this one bottle. All I wanted was him.
I breathed in deeply, my whole body shaking with anticipation. Achingly slowly, I steadied my hand and inched it towards my desk drawer, pulling out a single blank bottle label. My pen danced across the paper one final time, forming a name that summed up everything that Jan was and always would be to me...
‘'My Beloved Blossom.'
