After a purging of long-accumulated poisons, I feel the need to sanctify my space. Being a New World woman, I remain strongly partial to the house-clearing techniques of this continent: sea salt, dried sage, Florida water, and of course, bay rum. A traditional preparation of Pimenta racemosa (West Indian bay) combined combined with various citrus peel essences and oils of clove and cinnamon, bay rum has the proven ability to right the most enduring wrongs. Sprinkled or spritzed to the four corners of each room or applied as a cooling mist to overheated skin, it readily dispels negativity in all its guises-- real or imagined, spiritual or corporeal.
My favorite bay rum is Superior 70, which has a mellow, honeyed character, an assertive clove note, and a price tag of merely two bucks a bottle. Just now, I've sprayed clouds of it all around the house to restore calm and clarity after this rocky week. Each volatile puff flares like a magician's smoke pellet, then dissipates on the air, leaving behind a scent so familiar and native to me, I feel as though I've breathed it all my living days. Demons of all shapes and sizes flee from it hissing, back to their benighted realms.
On my wrists, I've lavished what little I own of Liz Zorn's Jhango Bay, a jasmine take on the traditional bay rum theme. The swooping segue from tropical flowers to Caribbean spice to aromatic woods in this fragrance exhilarates the senses, like riding the pirate ship at an oceanfront amusement park. Thanks to a subtle touch of ambergris buried deep in Jhango Bay's base, there is even a trace of the salty ocean air one breathes at the apex of the ride. Though heady, it's not heavy; I feel cleansed in a rush of wind, returned to childhood innocence by the penetrating warmth of the sun.
Scent Elements: Jamaican bay rum, citrus, spices, rose absolute, jasmine absolute, cedarwood, sandalwood, natural musk, ambergris