Clarimonde’s has her own versions of the Cloak of Invisibility, woven of ephemeral yet captivating forces, such as the sillage of perfume, the warmth of body heat mingling with perfume and romance, and traces of history reaching into the present.
Cloaks contain the shape and warmth of a body when outdoors, making a portable intimate environment within which the development of a perfume may unfold. Cloaks protect from the wind and rain, preserving an element of surprise until removal reveals all.
The country beauty of this traditional Hungarian sheperd’s cloak embroidered with nature’s patterns contains the wildness of a being who spends most of the time out doors. How could Clarimonde not fall in love with the one who strides along the mountain paths in this form? The scent of the trees cling to the edges of the wools.
Her cloak to travel the sands and spice routes with nomadic companions is soaked in the scent of oud and rose oils and the smoke of myrhh and frankincense; the scents of travel captured by the sun’s heat and the night’s dew:
For some time, Clarimonde preferred to travel through time by attending the theater and opera, where the eternal stories are brought to vivid life by the art of the performers and the force of their identification with the poetry and music. She honored the beauty of these occasions by her adornments, especially with the cloaks that she used to cover her evening wear and pass to and fro in the streets. They have become imbued with the scents of her various phases of emotional life, her affairs, her memories. She has kept everything she has ever worn.
As the times change, so does she express them. She once wore perfumes made from delicate natural florals and then plunged into the heavy Chypres, and then on to floating by on sparkling and astringent Aldehydes. All have clung to and become one with the cloaks she wears, both ephemeral and permanently soaked into the fabric of her being.
Lately she has become a modern fairy tale action figure, doing all and being all, as an invisible presence standing at the foot the bed when you wake in the middle of the night, you feel her as you breath in the cool air touched with violets and iron. If she makes herself increasingly known, the incense and blue flowers she has used as a chain to pull herself into your dreams and even your reality bloom out to fill your lungs and pass into your blood stream.
As with Paradise Lost, by Dawn Spencer Hurwitz, a balletic performance of a perfume as a dying swan. The smallest drop of blood as if wet dew upon the fresh violet, just emerged from the moist earth. The sacred incense hovers in the air, sent back from time immemorial, to mark the beauty of the moment.
Paradise Lost is available from Dawn Spencer Hurwitz as a sample and in full size.
Please visit the site for more information and to order.
The images above are borrowed from all over Pinterest and the rest of the internet, if you have more information as to credit please let me know.
Copyright 2014, Lucy Raubertas, All Rights Reserved.