My addiction to aromas has haunted me since childhood. I attended a flower festival at
age of four and my mother was unable to keep my nose away from all fresh and fragrant blooms. I used my impressionable sense of smell as a guide to determine if I liked my mother’s cooking or not. The beef stew always got a quick unhappy sniff, while anything dessert like was allowed to linger, appreciated by my fussy sense of smell. A few years ago, my quest for simplest yet most compelling scent of all, vanilla, led me from avenue of pure aromatherapy grade essential oils into back alleys of synthetic fragrances. I had found a marvelous vanilla absolute from Madagascar but when my supplier vanished I was left minus sensuous aroma that I knew and adored.
Yes readers, I did something desperate: I ordered my first vanilla fragrance oil [commonly referred to as an f.o.]. When it arrived a week later, I looked at 1 ounce amber bottle and even before opening it I just knew it was a sham, an impersonation of vanilla bean; a mockery of nature. Carefully opening bottle, I took my first whiff. Surprised, I took another, longer sniff of vanilla f.o. It smelled like vanilla, no question about that! The cost was kinder on my credit card, and amount was larger too. But what happened when it was poured into a batch of soap? Would it hold up in my new concoction of oils that were blended into whipped shea butter? In my online research I’d read of scents smelling great out of bottle [OOB] but turning into something quite different when added to bath & body products.
The world of aromatherapy is comprised of scents that originate directly from plants and their various parts: flowers, roots, fruit, bark, or leaves. If you buy a bottle of lavender essential oil from a reputable source you will find it has four attributes listed on label: country of origin, Latin [botanical] name, part of plant used, and method of distillation. [Cold pressed, steam distilled, etc.]. Highly principled suppliers will even provide a fifth element, principal constituents in classifying their essential oils. I was accustomed to this type of information readily provided for me. When I saw that plain brown glass container with just words “Vanilla fragrance” and supplier’s name and address, I knew I had indeed taken my first shaky steps down that shadowy alleyway.
Tuberose absolute, $200 per oz., was another favorite aroma that I wanted to add to my list of favorites. This white flower’s petals were so delicate that their sweet aromas were removed in a process that involved solvents classifying it as an absolute, rather than a pure essential oil. Still, an absolute was far superior to a mere fragrance. I decided to try a tuberose fragrance for far less money and when it arrived, along with some buddies doing impersonations of rose, jasmine and sandalwood, I was in a state of nasal bliss. The tuberose did resemble those fragrant white buds, and other florals sung a sincere imitation of their live counterparts. Sandalwood from India or even Australia was beyond my means [back then] but sandalwood f.o. was reputed to contain Indonesian sandalwood e.o. and so it was somewhat natural.
