a funerary invocation of cypress and incense
la liturgie des heures by jovoy paris
Cemeteries are some of my favorite places in the world. To me, they are serene, beautiful, contemplative. The rolling green lawns, the rows and rows of marble headstones, shrines, temples, bird baths, statues, and flowers in various stages of decay. The order of the cemetery is its own. To see bouquets and bouquets of fresh flowers signals death, an inverse of the world outside a cemetery’s gates. There is a feeling of reverence and silence. There is the feeling of life passing you by, of being in the company of ghosts. Yet, more often than not I find the haunting of a cemetery comforting and spiritual. Yes, the dead are here, but it is their domain, they belong here. We are the visitors, the interlopers of the other side for the short while we visit.
In Los Angeles, our cemeteries often center around the movie stars who are buried there. The most infamous of which is probably Hollywood Forever Cemetery. Buried at Hollywood Forever is every star imaginable short of Marilyn Monroe because she is across town at the Pierce Brothers Westwood Village Memorial Park.
Most importantly for me at Hollywood Forever is Rudolph Valentino, who holds a special place in my heart because of the night I believe I contacted his spirit personally.
Rudolph Valentino, the “Latin Lover” was the original heartbreaker of the silver screen and was most famous for his role in The Sheik (1921). When I was in art school I would play The Sheik on the mini projector in my dorm constantly, daydreaming whole afternoons away with scenes of sand dunes, camels, palm trees, palaces flickering on my wall, with only a single ray of daylight peeking through behind a veil of smoke from incense.
In Kenneth Anger’s Hollywood Babylon I read about Valentino’s tragic early death at the age of 31 and about mysterious woman, known only as the “Lady in Black” who would visit Valentino’s crypt on the anniversary of his death and bring him flowers year after year. This started a copycat trend and over time there were various other ladies in black who would come and mourn Valentino.
In 2018 I visited Valentino myself during Day of the Dead. They say the veil is most thin during this time. I can recall the night in the mausoleum, it was crowded and hot in the airless tomb of marble, there was the buzz of alcohol in the air, and bright lights. I was disappointed by the chaos. I felt there was no way I would have a genuine spiritual encounter, or feel anything real. Yet, when I kneeled by Valentino’s memorial and touched it, it suddenly felt like everything stilled and quieted. I felt solitary and alone even with crowds pressing all around, and there was a lone breeze that blew through the still air of the mausoleum. For the rest of the night I felt uneasy, feeling like I was being followed, like something was trying to attach itself to me. This feeling did not disappear until I left the cemetery that night.
In my mind, there is no doubt it was Valentino and afterwards, I was thrilled and deeply moved at the thought that I had crossed paths with the Sheik himself.
While I would never dare play with the ouija board and find ghosts too scary to seek out outside of their regular haunts, I love cemeteries and I love the spirits of the dead who roam cemeteries. To me the air of a cemetery is so rarefied, you are moving through so much of the past, so many stories and lives now buried in the earth. Sometimes it is sad, sometimes, uncanny, but most often the experience for me is beautiful.
Recently, I came across a post where people were discussing fragrances that remind them of cemeteries and that feel haunted. I had never thought too deeply about wanting to smell like a graveyard but once the idea was presented to me I was instantly transfixed. Someone in this thread recommended a perfume called La Liturgie des Heures by Jovoy Paris. According to Jovoy, this perfume is meant to evoke the following:
“A venerable Roman chapel in the south of Italy or a monastery lost in the perfumed hills of Greece… Here, time has no importance. There is only eternity. On the cool flagstones, worn to a satiny polish over the centuries, the Mediterranean summer's burning caress exalts an infinite love, almost holy. Suspended in the air a perfume of mysticism and mystery, hinting at a torrid, almost violent fever. Incense, olibanum and myrrh, immemorial aromas for entire, impetuous passion, ready for communion.” (x)
I am very intrigued by incense as a note in perfume and I love the idea of a perfume smelling '“holy.” In the beginning of La Liturgie des Heures, I immediately experience a strong note of cypress. Cypress is often found at places believed to be portals between the living and the dead, and have been traditionally planted near cemeteries. For me, the cypress in La Liturgie des Heures, especially combined with incense and myrrh, immediately creates a feeling of the deep reverence you feel wandering a cemetery. It brings to mind the chilled marble of the mausoleum. The feeling of death lingering in the air. Someone is nearby in prayer. There is a feeling of something Other, something you are perhaps afraid to investigate too closely. Everything feels significant. You almost stumble over a grave that is almost 200 years old. You think of those you love, of your own mortality, of the beautiful day and the stillness in the air. This is a church scent as it wants to be, but more specifically the scent of a funeral service, an open casket affair.
La Liturgie des Heures by Jovoy is an enticing fragrance of mourning and mystery and is a worthy choice for your next encounter with the spirits of dead.
