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There are scents that instantly take you to other places.
Often they are memories of places you have visited and which the scent evokes, and with only one spray you immediately travel there again. But they can also be places one dreams of, the wanderlust elicits a deep sigh, and the imagination conjures up the most beautiful images before one's inner eye. Even if in reality everything may be completely different. But it is nice when dream ideas make it possible to surrender for a short moment to a daydream that awakens longings and gives consolation, confidence, joy or distraction.
For me, Méharées triggers a journey into a distant and strange world that is still completely unknown to me. The sun determines life and is omnipresent. Nature is powerful and brings man to his limits. An interplay between a glowing hot desert sun and a starry night sky.
It is probably a very special melancholy that a person only experiences on his own body when he is seized by the vastness of the desert.
Méharées was in my hands for the first time when I was in Venice in winter. Very clichéd, but camels immediately trigger fabulous images of the Arabian Nights in me. The Méharées bottle doesn't score with extravagance, but I like the bottle because it doesn't show off, isn't richly decorated, but simply takes its place very calmly.
I had only sniffed at the bottle and was skeptical. I wanted to like him, but somehow he smelled like liquorice, and I can't stand liquorice. So I carefully decided for the shower gel and tested it in the bathtub of our hotel room. So there I was, after miles and miles of walking through the damp and cold Venice, pampering my maltreated feet and cold skin with a bubble bath that smelled of Méharées. I indulged in this fragrance and dreamed myself into a bathroom with mosaic decorated walls.
During my next stay in Italy and my visit to L'Erbolario I wanted to like him so much that I simply took the bottle with me.
On a warm evening in Tuscany, when the sun bathed the hills in terracotta light, I sprayed it before dinner. I still noticed something I felt at the time to be licorice-like, a hint of liquorice. How deliciously warm the scent lay on the skin like a veil of gold woven through it. Cinnamon, dates, myrrh, resin and dark woods - this is how Méharées smells to me. That's not even in the fragrance pyramid, but what counts in the end is the own perception that makes up the perfume. For me, it's not a gourmand, not a classic oriental. It is spicy-warm, the light sweetness is like golden resin and almost tart. I don't even feel it as a pure winter scent and it doesn't trigger any feelings of cosy Christmas markets in me. I even think it goes very well with heat, warm skin, dry air, hot sunbeams. In one way or another, the scent has something rough about it. I feel grounded and calm when I wear it.
On the evening I wore Méharées for the first time, before falling asleep, I read aptly in Achill Moser's breathtakingly beautiful book "Places of Longing":
The inhospitable, lonely landscapes of the desert, which trigger so many emotions - from intoxicating feelings of happiness to abysmal fear - were for me the place of longing par excellence right from the start.
Maybe every human carries one somewhere in his heart. We just have to go to find him.