Divine Lotus

I am on the hunt for new a rainy-day scent, one that doesn’t tread the overworn path of gothic rose petals cascading onto a bed of earthen patchouli. Divine Lotus ticks that box. Instead of roses falling to earth, we have lotus spreading roots into water. It opens aquatic and floral, as one might expect from lotus – and I enjoy this free and floating sensation. However, soon into the scent journey, I find something rather disconcerting. I wonder if humans have a biological predisposition to feel grounded by the smell of damp earth.... but not by the smell of muddy water. The smell of damp earth makes me feel safe, supported. By contrast, the steadily rising smell of muddy water makes me feel as though I am drowning. When I wear Divine Lotus, I want to be the lotus perfumer Zubayer describes, beauty born from adversity. When I wear Ember Shaan by the same house, I feel as though I am the dying embers. When I wear Divine Lotus, I am not the lotus, nor am I the roots. I’m an unwilling human bystander, being sucked down into these murky depths. It reminds me of the painting Ophelia by John Everett Millais, depicted the subject of Queen Gertrude’s hauntingly poetic speech from Shakespeare’s Hamlet; “There is a willow grows aslant a brook, That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream: There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them. There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds Clamb’ring to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide And mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up, Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds, As one incapable of her own distress, Or like a creature native and indued Unto that element. But long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death.” The dusty green of the flacon’s leather and the rose quartz cap (ah, music to my eyes!) I suspect contribute to this romantic imagery. With this emotional context in mind, I find the animalics in Divine Lotus too bitey and frightening. Is the root chickory? There’s something a bit like spent coffee grounds in the mix, combined with salty bodily fluids; slightly sour and acrid. I usually love animalic notes, for reference I even like Secretions Magnifique in small doses for its raw humanity, but in Divine Lotus my own humors (blood, sweat, bile, urine and saliva) are slowly leeching from my body and into this watery grave. Divine Lotus is masterfully created- there’s no denying. And I look forward to reading others’ reviews so I can understand it better. It may be due to my personal tastes – the notes in Ember Shaan just seem to fit me like a glove (resins, tobacco, spices), but I’ve never felt an affinity to the cool mineralics such as those in Divine Lotus. I try to avoid layering olfactory artworks such as those from Byermia – Ashek Zubayer has painstakingly inserted notes to match his meticulous vision. However, I think I will make an exception with Divine Lotus. In my collection I have full bottles of lovely (but undeniably boring) aquatic florals; Pretty by Elizabeth Arden, Magnolia and Lily of the Valley by 4711, Dunhill Desire Blue by Alfred Dunhill and Eternity Eau Fresh by Calvin Klein. Spritzing Divine Lotus on a patch of spare real estate (skin) nearby any one of these will add dimension and give me the air of a tragic Shakespearean heroine until I either learn to love it in its own right or feel the need to channel my inner Ophelia.