Patchouli reminds me of my parents… particularly of my mum. The angriest I ever saw her was when my sister and I smashed (by accident) a tiny vial of patchouli oil which mum had treasured for well over ten years, whoops! It was tiny, maybe a couple of ml, but the house smelled of patchouli for weeks. Our mum cried because she was so upset, my sister and I cried because mum was so angry with us, our dad cried tears of laughter because he loved the smell and thought the whole thing was rather amusing, and after a few days, we all cried because the smell just would-not-go-away!

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