Guerlain: Djedi

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away..

OZYMANDIAS Percy Bysshe Shelley

There is something dark and strange about Djedi. It has an almost solemn quality, like something being burnt in a temple. It's smokey incense rises over a rich leathery base, which has all of the "thickness" associated with old Guerlains. However, the customary vanilla is nowhere to be found, but given the dry nature of the composition, the almost sweet facet of the civet is as close as this perfume gets to the vanillic quality of the Guerlinade. While the civet gives the perfume an animalic depth, it is far from a conventional raunchy base. Here it is like the spirit of some real living animal haunts the perfume.

The floral aspect of the fragrance adds a sensual touch, but never takes away from the uncompromising dry and dark nature of the composition -it merely expands it sensuality. The one note that dominates above all is vetiver, which emerges from the dark smouldering resin, while the sharpness of the grass is a green counterpoint to the dark and dense base. This dark and resinous quality, combined with the burning spices, is what gives Djedi it exotic nature. In spite of the powerfully evocative ingredients, there is nothing loud about this perfume. It has a sense of stillness about it, like a statue that is indifferent to whether we actually discover it or not.

A lot has been made of the similarity between Djedi and Vero Kern's Onda, and it is easy to see why. Both perfumes are dark, leathery, animalic, and dry vetivers, and both are also extraordinarily vivid, but for me Onda depicts a certain wild ferocity whereas Djedi has a quiet and eerie solemnity -like glimpsing some arcane ritual of a long lost civilisation. 

If I had a time machine I would dearly love to go back to Ancient Egypt, but on the way I think I'd have to make a stop in Paris in 1926 to meet the person who this fascinating perfume was made for.