This week has been a bar soap week. Wednesday we poured Cucumber, Honeysuckle, Jasmine, Lime, Myrrh, Nag Champa, Peppermint, Rosemary-Mint and Rosewood & Lavender. Thursday was Patchouli, Rosemary-Jasmine, Black Pepper Blossom, Blueberry Festival, Bulgarian Lavender, Cedarwood-Vetiver, Clean Fresh, Coconut Lime and Coconut Vanilla for a total of 292 bars. On Friday, labels were printed, cut out and I got all of the bars unmolded, trimmed and wrapped. Today, Saturday, everything will labeled, added to the inventory and on the shelf.
As I'm pouring all these different soaps the house is filling up with scents and one of the scents is Myrrh which reminds me of a story I often tell at festivals where we're selling Woosch, and it goes like this. I was a young boy, not sure how old, but I remember I could read. I was at my Great Grandmother's house in her bedroom supposedly to take a nap. On her dresser was a fancy small blue bottle of perfume so I opened it up and gave it a sniff. Flash forward to 2003 and Jerry and I are starting our business and looking to expand our soap scents beyond just lime. So I ordered essential and fragrance oils of the obvious scents that we thought people would know. Some of these fragrances I'd never smelled but was familiar with. Well, one of those scents was Myrrh. I decided we should try it along with Frankincense, you know, the Christmas smells. When we get oils in I'm anxious to smell them and when I opened the Myrrh and smelled it I was instantly remembering that day I had long forgotten. I then remembered picking up that pretty blue bottle and turning it over and reading the label on the bottom. Evening in Paris. Who knew it has a large Myrrh component. There's nothing like smell to make a direct connection to memory.