I spilled, while opening the tiny casket bound vial of OPARDU, and now my fingers are covered in it. Precious liquid, tap, tap, tapping its way across my keyboard, since I refuse to wash my hands. I know that I should wear a new perfume fully, top to bottom, over the course of days, before I even begin to think about how to talk about it, but I couldn’t resist throwing myself into the moment. I don’t know what OPARDU means, but if I created the myth around the word, I’d say it meant joyful, ebullient, innocent, sophisticated.
As a pre-teen, I declared to my mother that I needed to attend the private boarding school Foxcroft. Don’t bother asking how I found out about such a place: I did, and I tried to convince her that my approaching highschool years would be best spent in an environment where my horse could come with me to school… never mind the fact that the school cost three-times my mother’s annual salary (My mother still, no doubt, can remember my convincing arguments). It wasn’t that I suffered delusions of grandeur. It’s just that I’ve always, since I was tiny, been in love with whatever I deemed “best” (including people, ideas, and so on). Around the same time I was longing for Foxcroft, I was gifted a set of finely fragranced toiletries, which contained a small quantity of opalescent purple bath beads. Those bath beads were the most beautiful smelling thing I’d experienced to that point, and when I bathed with them, I felt like Marie Antoinette–a young, vivacious queen, utterly content with herself and her surroundings. For years afterwards I tried to find out what those purple beads were, where they came from, and what was that smell?
OPARDU takes me there.
I love the way that a fragrance can instantly deliver us to another time, another place. Bypassing reality, even if just for a moment. OPARDU is beautiful; it truly is a master perfume, and, significantly, it transports me to a treasured childhood memory.
My sample of OPARDU was provided by Puredistance.