In Remembrance of Sylvia Plath


Sylvia Plath. Image from Wikimedia Commons

Sylvia Plath. Image from Wikimedia Commons

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.

Sylvia Plath was a brilliant American poet who is beloved and remembered for her fiercely emotional writing. In crafting my perfumes, I seek inspiration from the lives of some of history and literature’s most fascinating subjects. I make these perfumes as tributes to people who inspire me and I feel a deep connection to. Sylvia is not only a luminary, but for several years, people wrote to me requesting I make a perfume inspired by her and her seminal work, The Bell Jar. Because the circumstances surrounding her death are so tragic and she still has family members alive, I want to be extremely sensitive when discussing the poet. Here is a brief look at the short life of a haunted genius.

Early Life

Sylvia Plath was born on October 27, 1932 in Boston Massachusetts to parents of German and Austrian descent. Even from a young age, Sylvia’s genius was recognized. She began to write poetry, even having pieces published in local newspapers, by age 8. She was extremely ambitious owing in part to her mother’s pushing, and she was also recognized as a gifted painter.

Tragedy first struck her young life when her father died a mere week after her eighth birthday. Her grief was profound and from that point on had no love for religion. Many scholars and biographers believe that this early loss was the original catalyst for her chronic depressive episodes.

Finding and Losing Herself

When she made it to Smith College in 1950, Sylvia found herself. She excelled at her collegiate studies and edited the Smith Review as well as Mademoiselle magazine. Her big break guest editing for Mademoiselle required her to live in New York for a month during the summer of her junior year. The experience was tumultuous and disappointing, leading to a downward spiral that resulted in electroshock therapy and her first suicide attempt. It was this experience that provided the inspiration for The Bell Jar, her only published novel.

The thing about depression that people often forget is that while for someone like Sylvia it is a recurring problem, it is not an all-consuming, forever thing. There are breaks of joy in between. She was able to recover from this episode and earned a Fulbright Scholarship to Cambridge. It was there that she met Ted Hughes, the future poet laureate.

At their first meeting, he took her earrings and she bit his cheek so hard that she drew blood (this from a journal she kept). They married after four months. So that kind of gives you an idea about this relationship. Their relationship has even been compared to that of Zelda and Scott Fitzgerald – passionate, co-dependent, mutual literary inspiration and destruction.

From 1956 through 1962 the couple moved around a lot – Sylvia taking various teaching jobs in America and running in circles with writers like Anne Sexton, before they settled in England.

They had two children together, an additional child she miscarried after Hughes beat her. In 1962, they separated when she discovered that he was having an affair. Sylvia took her two children back to London where they rented an old flat that had once been lived in by William Butler Yates, fate she thought.

It was there during the final six months of her life that she wrote the poems from Ariel, her collection which brought her posthumous literary fame. The Bell Jar had been published just one month before she died.

Despite the care of Dr. Horder, her close friend and doctor, she did not make it out of her final depressive episode. In the early morning hours of February 11, 1963, she sealed the room to protect her children, and turned on the gas. She placed her head in her oven and died from carbon monoxide poisoning.

A Tribute to a Master

When creating this tribute perfume, I wanted to capture the essence of her writing, not necessarily her as a person. I chose a passage from The Bell Jar that I found to contain deep emotional resonance that speak to the overwhelming burden of choice, as well as a beauty to the natural elements in which she describes. Below are the lines:

 “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor… I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.” – The Bell Jar, 1963

May her beautiful soul rest in peace.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit this list of suicide prevention resources.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741741.

 

Gather 'round, it's history time for my new perfumes

Remember when I used to write about history? Probably not because it's been sooo long. Well, I'm about to fix that because I have 4 brand new perfume tributes to let you know about! Madame MoustacheA Perfumed Oil for Fancy Ladies & Gentlemen of Exceptional Quality

On the American Frontier you needed backbone and sheer wit to not only survive, but prosper. Eleonore Alphonsine Dumont, aka Madame Moustache, had both in stride. Originally born in France (at least that's what she claimed), Dumont was a notorious gambler hustling her way through mining camps and gambling houses in the West. She amassed a small fortune only to lose it all to a man of charm, but little substance. With dogged determination Dumont upped her gambling efforts and started her own gambling house "Vingt-et-un" (21) a saloon for stylish gents, no women, save for herself, allowed. Her charm made her the perfect, unassuming gambler, and with the addition of running a brothel, she found her fortune back in excess. When her beauty faded she became known as Madame Moustache, owing to a line of dark hair on her lip - which she wore with pride.

Madame Moustache Perfume Oil contains notes of tobacco pipe, vegan Egyptian musk, fire, and vanilla. This alluring scent is meant for fancy ladies and well kept gents, and smells like a warm campfire.

VIII: A Cologne Oil Worthy of Kingly Pursuits

Before he became the rotund, belligerent king of his twilight years, young King Henry VIII was a stylish youth deeply interested in the arts, education, sport, and was a devout Catholic called a Defender of the Faith by Pope Leo X. As the second son of Henry VII, he was never expected to become king, but when he did, he did so with lavish excess and cultivated an image of a Renaissance man. Henry VIII's obsession with producing a male heir (partly his own vanity, and partly a desire to avoid another War of the Roses) is what led to the two things he is widely known for: the English Reformation and his six wives.

England's most famous king had a soft spot for the finer things in life and was said to wear a concoction of ambergris and civet, two of the finest scents of the time. This cologne oil inspired by the illustrious Tudor has notes of ambergris, belladonna, clovebud, tobacco, bay leaf, fire, and Peru balsam.

Archibald MensiesA Cologne Oil for Explorers of Merit & Other Fearless Pursuits

Back in the 1700s there was still a large swath of Earth left unexplored, especially in the New World. Archibald Menzies was a Scottish surgeon who moonlighted as a botanist and naturalist. He was hired aboard George Vancouver's HMS Discovery that traveled around the world and is of particular note here in Seattle as they were some of the first to explore Puget Sound. Like Charles Darwin, who wasn't even born until 15 years after the Discovery expedition, Archibald Menzies documented plant life and cultivated seeds. He discovered the Douglas Fir and brought/planted orange seeds in Hawaii (still there to this day) for future ships stopping there to port (oranges helped with scurvy).

This cologne oil features blood orange, oak moss, Egyptian musk, tobacco, and fir. Dab some on your wrist and go exploring.

Beatrix PotterA Dead Writers Perfume

Beatrix Potter was the author and illustrator of the beloved children's story, The Tale of Peter Rabbit. She was born to a wealthy Victorian family and after summering in the Lake District as a child, she began her lifelong work as a naturalist and conservationist. Using the royalty money from the success of her book she bought Hill Top Farm and surrounding areas in an effort to keep the English countryside pristine.

In Peter Rabbit she wrote, “Peter was not very well during the evening. His mother put him to bed, and made some chamomile tea: "One table-spoonful to be taken at bedtime.” This perfume was created after reading these lines to my own child. Beatrix has notes of moss, blue spruce, dragon's blood, fire, earth, and chamomile. It has a wonderful green scent with the light floral of the chamomile headnote.

Let me know how you like them!

The Veil Has Lifted...Happy Halloween!

Someone up there loves me because my ongoing mystery illness has been subsiding this last week just in time for my favorite holiday. I didn't make any plans in the event that I still feel terrible, health in this case is more symbolic. But the last two days I've actually been eating and leaving the house for 3-4 hours at a time WITHOUT INCIDENT!

I digress. Back to Halloween. First off, it's my brother's birthday which irritates me that he got world's coolest birthday. He doesn't love dead things the way I do. Secondly, since I love history and haven't written about history in a while, here's an ultra-mini history of Halloween.

My Celtic ancestors were seriously amazing. They were crazy and I love them for it. They had this festival called Samhain (I'm pretty sure Wiccans still call Halloween that) (why do I know so much about this stuff?). They believed that the veil between this world and the next thinned and allowed the free passage of spirits to roam the earth. The Celts would light bonfires and wear masks to ward off any nasty ghosts that may be about. And people were totally fine with this arrangement until, like everything else, the Catholics had to come appropriate Samhain for themselves. I'm Catholic, I can say these things. Anyway, Pope Gregory III was all like, the Celts are having way too much fun we want in. So he decreed that November 1 would be All Saints Day which as we all know has morphed into something awesome called Dia de Los Muertos. All Saints Day appropriated the Celtic Samhain traditions. The night before All Saints Day was called All Hallows' Eve which you already knew because you watched Hocus Pocus everyday as a child. Just me? Everything has to be a fight between good and evil with these religious types so All Hallows' Eve, which over time became known as Halloween, was the more sinister of the days. From there, someone had the utter brilliance of incorporating pumpkins and candy. Halloween.

There's probably more to the story, but I told you, ultra-mini today. Sales have been down due to the hurricane on the East Coast (seriously, hope you guys are ok and are able to get out and vote next week!!), but I thought it fitting that I woke up to the sale of three bottles of Dead Writers perfume. Halloween.