Serendipity

 Sahara Noir by Tom Ford is one of those fragrances that share a strange (hi)story with me. At the time i acquired it, it wasn't yet discontinued from the line and it was still widely available. Its pretty attractive price tag gave me the option to buy it without having tried it before hand. I wasn't sure if it was a successful buy when i receive it, mostly because i was expecting a warm and cozy incense scent that spiritually uplifts one's mood, and instead i received a the dry, dusty and smoky incense that made me feel like trapped in an ancient Catholic church wondering if i should pray or should I run away. I didn't understand its meaning. But, patiently and day after day, i tried to deconstruct Sahara Noir into small puzzle pieces to put them back together... until finally one day i saw it raising beautifully before my eyes like a temple that was visible only to myself. We bonded in such a special way that it created an invisible connection between us and made me feel like I found my nirvana.
...

My sister came to stay with us for a while.
She was lost and in a personal and spiritual need for guidance. Her inner void was screaming for love, caring and understanding. We gave her all of us, and, after the bad dream was over, she slowly opened the eyes and started to see through the blurred lines directly into the light. Soon her eyes were bright and alive again. Love made us stronger.

I thought fragrance would also help, as it helped me at so many hard times, so i offered her scents of comfort. Sahara Noir was among them. After a short sniff her conclusion was final: 'It smells like a waxing salon'. It didn't even gave me the time to reply or make her reconsider it, because her words, like a wrecking ball effect, destroyed my temple leaving behind only  the bricks and mortar of a waxing salon. It took less than a second to destroy my vivid image of peace and serenity and replace it with the smell of walls that entrap nosy people, smoke and plugged hairs. My silence was suddenly hold hostage by scary screams.

 After the terrible happening, every wear of Sahara Noir was like a screech of pain. I couldn't deal with it anymore. She felt quilty, but it wasn't her fault, in the end it was my mind the one that pulled the trigger. After my sister left, full of hope and desire to start a new life, i decided that is time to let Sahara go. And so i did, as cheaply as i bought and without considering its discontinued nor sentimental value.

I sold, swapped and gifted many treasures over the time and i never had any regrets. Except for Sahara Noir and Ode à la Vanille Sur la Route du Mexique. Luckily i recovered the latter. But i was desperately looking for my spiritual oasis back. My cry for help reached my sister, my vintage and discontinued treasures dealer. No luck whatsoever.

... 

After years of missed Christmases as a family, we decided that it's time to turn back to traditions and spend the Christmas holidays together, as a whole. It felt so real and blissful that it hurt of joy to the deepest of my soul. 

We exchanged gifts and while i was recharging my heart with their laughter, happiness and excitement, i almost forgot to open mines. 'Hey, open yours!' i heard  my sister's voice like in a dream. And so i did. First it was a book i wanted - the famous and controversial The Perfume Guide 2018, a reading i was impatiently looking for. The second gift was the lost Sahara Noir. The very next second after unwrapping it the thought of waxing salon that took over my mind years ago shakedown and disappeared like dust in the wind. My sister didn't see the tears of gratitude in my eyes, but maybe without even realizing it she replanted the seeds for a new sanctuary to grow. I don't remember the other gifts. Actually i do, and i appreciate every single one that i opened after it, but let's say that unintentionally Sahara Noir created a special bond between my sister and me, and even though she doesn't like it, it will always remember me of her. The rest is history. 

Not sure if my story has a moral lesson. If it does, could it be to never allow anyone to interfere with what you really feel, like or love? Or maybe that things have their own language and when the right time they'll get back into your life a way or an other? Karma? Destiny? Call it whatever you want to call it, but I'm sure that everything happens for a reason and it happens when it should happen and without kindly asking us first.