Casablanca Perfume

I had been watching the snow fall outside of my window for three months, at times blowing horizontally on winds wailing down from the Polar Vortex. I tried to conjure a way to transport myself to a place far away, a place with warm air and perfumed flowers and fruit—a garden in paradise with odors of mossy dirt, smooth woods with light green notes, and darker woods, sweating their rich, balsamic resins. In the evening, my garden would be bursting with intensely sweet orange blossoms, wafting their sultry notes of indole into the night air. Encircling that would be the intoxicating notes of meaty tuberose, with its sweet, long dry down. Juicy, tart notes of mandarin and grapefruit would brighten the mix as the animalic notes of slinking evening creatures mix with floral richness. I could smell a floral chypre, twisting towards oriental darkness, capturing the romantic, sexy chiaroscuro of my tropical oasis, another world from my barren, winter existence.