///

We nostalgics know that smell is the most evocative of the senses. Any of us has a similar story: one afternoon, looking for an unparalleled stocking at the bottom of a drawer, the hand found the scarf that Grandpa used and the nose clouded the eyes. For a few seconds the old man was there, again. The aroma is the guardian of the emotional memory. And those of us who are intrigued by smell know that the human brain is capable of distinguishing up to ten thousand different smells. But we also know that the language to describe the olfactory is poor and sometimes depends on too subjective elements of judgment (a tasty or ugly aroma), of moral resonances (an exciting or pleasant smell) or derived from another sense (a fruity or rough perfume) ). So, when I moved into my studio, and being very aware that I had to "create history" in the place to make it finally mine, the first thing I brought was the Misty aromatic diffuser (I must confess that it arrived before the modem but after that the coffee maker!). Fanned by the need for places and their objects to have their own aroma (in short, your soul), between still bare walls and moving boxes, I gave myself time to play the perfumer: I combined four droplets of cedar and three of oil 31 and that's how I invented the smell of my lair. The Misty is discreet and elegant, with a light as dim as it can be in its two pale intensities. Wake up my olfactory instinct and in the auditory and the visual, it also has an evocative sense (it reminds me of the movie "Play Misty For Me", in which Clint Eastwood was a radio host harassed by a psychotic listener: any resemblance to real paranoia is not mere coincidence). But the most important thing is that a soulless department soon had the smell of mine. I know that in many years, when I find myself face to face with the scent of a cedar, I will only have to close my eyes to return to this present. And that, then or now, in happiness or uncertainty, I will only have to combine a few drops of my magic potion to create a sense of home, wherever it may be.

///