Säsong (John skoog, 2019)
*the sound of machinery whirring*
Void is the name of a scent produced by Voronoi. The official notes given are white amber. It is classed as a minimal linear scent. It is described as fresh wood polished by the ocean. It is transparent, unconventional. The purchaser is provided with the following words of caution:
"Some people can smell Void, and some can not."
And thus a door to a delightful realm is opened.
We have a product which is a liquid, can be bottled, placed on a shelf and purchased by anyone. We can all enter the store that sells it. See the bottle on the shelf. Pick it up. Hold it in our hands. Feel the weight of it. Run our eyes across the lettering on the bottle.
But that's as far as it goes.
From that point on a schism occurs, a separation.
Agnieszka sprays some of the scent on a card and waves it back and forth in the air (this is standard activity - perfume uses alcohol and that initial spray will be momentarily heavy with the scent of alcohol - it dissipates quickly, but you don't want your initial experience of a scent to be marred by this - it's fine, not an affectation, all is well) before passing it to you. Agnieszka is always so polite, so friendly, she remembers you and everything about you every time you enter the store. But as she passes the card with a spray of Void by Voronoi on it something unexpected happens.
A rift occurs in time and space and two versions of yourself are born: one who can smell and appreciate the scent of Void, and one who cannot.
The body you inhabit that smells the scent gets a hit of something that is difficult to describe. There are so many words used to describe a scent, but so many of them are redundant because the nature of a scent is that it is something that lives in a world that language does not inhabit. The key piece of information is whether you like it or not, the second is what it means to you, the third is where you place it - which abstract carved wooden box deep inside your subconscious do you tenderly open to place this scent inside?
The body you inhabit that cannot smell the scent, on the other hand, does not know what to do or say. Caution runs through your body with an electric crackle. Even the slightest facial movement could give you away, and you know that when you look up and into Agnieszka's eyes she will be able to see to the very root of your soul. Is deception possible in such a moment?
What a world.
A physical manifestation of a story known by some as the Emperor's New Clothes, re-edited for a contemporary audience. A world where we have two classes of people - one believing they're better designed than the other, and a second that believes they are being robbed, lied to.
But what about me? When I was in the store and Agnieszka handed me the card sprayed with Void by Voronoi, and the room took on a pregnant pause as I ran it in front of my face, could I smell anything?
Yes, of course. But I would say that.
Void is the name of a scent produced by Voronoi. The official notes given are white amber. It is classed as a minimal linear scent. It is described as fresh wood polished by the ocean. It is transparent, unconventional. The purchaser is provided with the following words of caution:
"Some people can smell Void, and some can not."
And thus a door to a delightful realm is opened.
We have a product which is a liquid, can be bottled, placed on a shelf and purchased by anyone. We can all enter the store that sells it. See the bottle on the shelf. Pick it up. Hold it in our hands. Feel the weight of it. Run our eyes across the lettering on the bottle.
But that's as far as it goes.
From that point on a schism occurs, a separation.
Agnieszka sprays some of the scent on a card and waves it back and forth in the air (this is standard activity - perfume uses alcohol and that initial spray will be momentarily heavy with the scent of alcohol - it dissipates quickly, but you don't want your initial experience of a scent to be marred by this - it's fine, not an affectation, all is well) before passing it to you. Agnieszka is always so polite, so friendly, she remembers you and everything about you every time you enter the store. But as she passes the card with a spray of Void by Voronoi on it something unexpected happens.
A rift occurs in time and space and two versions of yourself are born: one who can smell and appreciate the scent of Void, and one who cannot.
The body you inhabit that smells the scent gets a hit of something that is difficult to describe. There are so many words used to describe a scent, but so many of them are redundant because the nature of a scent is that it is something that lives in a world that language does not inhabit. The key piece of information is whether you like it or not, the second is what it means to you, the third is where you place it - which abstract carved wooden box deep inside your subconscious do you tenderly open to place this scent inside?
The body you inhabit that cannot smell the scent, on the other hand, does not know what to do or say. Caution runs through your body with an electric crackle. Even the slightest facial movement could give you away, and you know that when you look up and into Agnieszka's eyes she will be able to see to the very root of your soul. Is deception possible in such a moment?
What a world.
A physical manifestation of a story known by some as the Emperor's New Clothes, re-edited for a contemporary audience. A world where we have two classes of people - one believing they're better designed than the other, and a second that believes they are being robbed, lied to.
But what about me? When I was in the store and Agnieszka handed me the card sprayed with Void by Voronoi, and the room took on a pregnant pause as I ran it in front of my face, could I smell anything?
Yes, of course. But I would say that.