| Jennifer Botto
Tuberose is one of those maddeningly enigmatic scents that is either an immense joy to work with, or the source of unrivaled frustration. For me it is a surreal flower, an absinthian trip reminiscent of Alice’s caterpillar atop the mushroom. With an eerily complex bouquet, Tuberose vibrates with strange otherworldly energy. It exudes a funky magic of seemingly contradictory notes; it is at once sour and creamy, earthy and ethereal, vegetal and fruity, mushroomy and floral.
In the past, perhaps because my access was restricted to a paler version, I’ve scorned Tuberose as an odd earthy gourmand… almost savory in it’s blue-cheesy creaminess. My mind’s eye conjured images of soft round brown floating blobs, not the most beautiful synaesthetic experience I’ve ever had. Where were those gorgeous white floral notes I’ve heard so much about? Why was I only registering an eerie psychedelic funk of moldy mushrooms, worm castings and curdled cream? For a while, I assumed this experience was due to a flaw in my unique olfactory receptors and resigned myself to working with other florals.
How could I have been so wrong? A couple of months ago I received a sample of Tuberose organic extract and it was a revelation. In vivid technicolor, I experienced wonderful new notes of green melon, apricot, honey, and white flower petals alongside delicate mushrooms as soft and pure as clouds, with just a hint of sweet cream and fresh earth. It’s really amazing what a difference the method of extraction can make!