Im so fortunate to be red! Im fiery. Im strong. I know men take notice of me and that I cannot be resisted Wherever Im spread, I see vision shine, passions increase, eyebrows rise and heartbeats quicken. Behold how wonderful it is to live! Behold how wonderful to see. I am everywhere. Life begins with and returns to me.
This unravelment of the verisimilitude of thoroughbred and roses from Orhan Pamuks My Name is Red, has stayed with me overly since I first read the novel while studying perfumery. At the time, one of the exercises we were doing involved matching scents to colors, and so I started looking for a fragrance that evoked the same intensity as Pamuks description.
The obvious suspects like roses and raspberries were tint aside. I was without drama, rather than mere associations. Once while leafing through an tome of Indian miniature paintings, I had an epiphanysandalwood smells red. The 16th century vignettes painted during the Mughal era depicted women making sandalwood paste, and their worriedness reminded of the time I had spent in India, expressly of the unexceptionable colors and smells.