WINTER 1972 BY CB I HATE PERFUME
Winter 1972 by CB I Hate Perfume—a man who is a living legend in the perfume world—is the single most peculiar fragrance that we carry here in our Blackbird Apothecary. They say that our ability to smell is very strongly tied to memory, perhaps even more so than the other senses. With this in mind, perfumer Chris Brosius has devoted his life to the recreation of singular memories from his past and the pasts of others in scent form.
Winter 1972 has captured the imaginations of many in-store customers as of late, largely due to its seasonal appropriateness, and for the incredible complexity of its composition. Designed to evoke images of frozen forests, woolen mittens coated in frost and pristine fields of untouched snow, Brosius has expertly orchestrated the dimensions of sweet soil, deep woods and dew-speckled leaves comprise the main body of this perfume. Somehow, it feels as if this fragrance possesses the ability to tap into your own memory; it invokes a visions of experiences in your past, summoning images of places that only you know in the depths of your subconscious. Here is a description of the memory that eventually brought about this particular scent, and in the words of Chris Brosius himself, no less:
I remember, one December when I was much younger, sitting alone at night in a field. There were no tracks in the fresh snow other than my own and no sound but my own breath. Occasionally I heard a twig snap in the pine wood that bordered the field.
The air was perfectly clear and nothing was visible except the small cloud of my own breath between me and the infinite stars. All of them were visible, sparkling silently against the endless blue of space. I can remember nothing in my life so beautiful as the sight of the sky that winter night.
I recall clearly the scent of that winter air. It was not at all a pine scent and had nothing to do with cinnamon or spices. It was the blue frozen scent of fresh snow and silver stars. It was a scent that spoke to my young brain of remembering what was and realizing what will come. It was the sleeping scent of spring now frozen beneath the snow.
Winter is still like that for me. It is a time to rest, a time to remember and to look forward. Winter is a quiet time to watch the stars and have hope.
The care with which he takes to the craft of scent-making is plain to see in these nigh-poetic descriptions of his inspirations, bearing evidence of his neurotic attention to detail and an unparalleled passion for his profession. We speak not in hyperbole of this fellow, as we do hold in high regard his supernatural abilities in the realm of the olfactory.
Stop into the Blackbird Apothecary to smell and understand what CB I Hate Perfume is all about. Really—this is serious stuff.
