burning Lantern

Based on the love of science and formuations, he knew that the true essence of a fragrance wasn’t just in its ingredients, but in the love and intention poured into it.

“Soulful fragrances... ” the thoughts arrived in  “come from careful creation and meticulous attention. Each scent tells a story.”

In the internal dialogue, he recognized the power of the familiar— a comforting embrace in a world of fleeting trends.

“Fine perfumery..." his pen scribbled

Should create a shock—the exhilarating thrill of something new intertwined with the whispers of cherished memories.”

Emboldened by this conviction, he expressed a rebuke of convention.

“Art must be irreverent...”  the next four words arrived like clear artifacts on the wall and laughter sparkling in his eyes.

A playful sense of rebellion danced within, a heartbeat echoing the the bustling tree branches vibrant energy.

“And let’s be honest...  this inner voice chimed in, “it’s far more humane to test cosmetics on New Yorkers than on sweet creatures of the earth.”

With smiles, he envisioned a world where his creations could embrace humanity, not harm the soil. 

This internal playfulness arrived- “Fine tones are indulgences; let more people experience the true worth of craftsmanship.”

With a knowing nod, he stood firm in his belief that luxury must be rooted in the artistry of creation.

The scent of fresh pine cones cascaded through his thoughts, hand-poured candles glowing warmly in his mind, and the scent of hand-formulated perfumes wrapped around him like a warm blanket on the forest floor.

“Oh, how we believe in the soulful power of thoughtful hands!” he exclaimed, raising his glass in a toast to the legacy of artisans who crafted these treasures.

“And let’s not forget... " the poet’s wisdom threading through his heart: “Act great, dear. Always act great.”

With each line spoken, the enormity of his aspirations filled the forest pathway.

It was the Great Outdoors that shaped him from the time he could walk, where the beauty of moss, ferns, and small stones intertwined with the profound insights of Thoreau, creating a tapestry of existence that embraced imperfection and depth.

“I believe,” he said, breathing in the scent of a fallen fir tree, “that as a collective, we must put down our modern tools and take the time to truly smell the rain along the way.”** 

“We are only young once, but immaturity? That could last forever!” the forest filled with warmth, a testament to the joy of embracing life without constraints. 

A gentle truth settled over him. “And I believe,” he concluded, “that explanation kills the art.

>>> So let’s forget all of this!”

With that,  he smiled, his heart united in the collective quest for beauty and soul, becoming the very essence of what they sought to create
—a living fragrance, rich with intention and love, blooming in the midst of the bustling branches as he walked into the next clearing ahead. 

Based on the love of science and formuations, he knew that the true essence of a fragrance wasn’t just in its ingredients, but in the love and intention poured into it.

“Soulful fragrances... ” the thoughts arrived in  “come from careful creation and meticulous attention. Each scent tells a story.”

In the internal dialogue, he recognized the power of the familiar— a comforting embrace in a world of fleeting trends.

“Fine perfumery..." his pen scribbled

Should create a shock—the exhilarating thrill of something new intertwined with the whispers of cherished memories.”

Emboldened by this conviction, he expressed a rebuke of convention.

“Art must be irreverent...”  the next four words arrived like clear artifacts on the wall and laughter sparkling in his eyes.

A playful sense of rebellion danced within, a heartbeat echoing the the bustling tree branches vibrant energy.

“And let’s be honest...  this inner voice chimed in, “it’s far more humane to test cosmetics on New Yorkers than on sweet creatures of the earth.”

With smiles, he envisioned a world where his creations could embrace humanity, not harm the soil. 

This internal playfulness arrived- “Fine tones are indulgences; let more people experience the true worth of craftsmanship.”

With a knowing nod, he stood firm in his belief that luxury must be rooted in the artistry of creation.

The scent of fresh pine cones cascaded through his thoughts, hand-poured candles glowing warmly in his mind, and the scent of hand-formulated perfumes wrapped around him like a warm blanket on the forest floor.

“Oh, how we believe in the soulful power of thoughtful hands!” he exclaimed, raising his glass in a toast to the legacy of artisans who crafted these treasures.

“And let’s not forget... " the poet’s wisdom threading through his heart: “Act great, dear. Always act great.”

With each line spoken, the enormity of his aspirations filled the forest pathway.

It was the Great Outdoors that shaped him from the time he could walk, where the beauty of moss, ferns, and small stones intertwined with the profound insights of Thoreau, creating a tapestry of existence that embraced imperfection and depth.

“I believe,” he said, breathing in the scent of a fallen fir tree, “that as a collective, we must put down our modern tools and take the time to truly smell the rain along the way.”** 

“We are only young once, but immaturity? That could last forever!” the forest filled with warmth, a testament to the joy of embracing life without constraints. 

A gentle truth settled over him. “And I believe,” he concluded, “that explanation kills the art.

>>> So let’s forget all of this!”

With that,  he smiled, his heart united in the collective quest for beauty and soul, becoming the very essence of what they sought to create
—a living fragrance, rich with intention and love, blooming in the midst of the bustling branches as he walked into the next clearing ahead. 

A Tale of Fragrance and Intention

In the heart of a wind through the branches of the trees, where dreams rise like the firs of the Pacific Northwest and stories intertwine like the tangled streets of New York, a Senior in High School quickly became hooked into the tones of bliss, a bit of leather with an undertone of Cedar.

It was here, he found solace in the art of fragrance, forever seeking a connection that transcended the ordinary. 

He whispered two words - “True Calmness…”

Each word flowed like a delicate perfume, revealing his heartfelt convictions. 

“I believe there are too many bottles on the shelves... 
as a distant memory “But not enough that truly capture the essence
of the soul.”

It was a deep yearning for authenticity amidst a world filled with hollow imitations. 

the Manifesto...