As a child, I had an incredible sweet-tooth and it would appear now as an adult, very little has changed. But there are only a handful of sugary treats that I am seldom able to stomach. One is liquorice, and the other; Turkish delight.
From its beginnings in Persia as ahbisa, and then Turkey as rahat loukhoum, this jelly-like confection scented with rosewater and dusted in sugar has survived the centuries. But I was never a big fan of its sticky texture and inordinate sweetness.
This is not to say, however, that I'm not visually and olfactorily excited by these powdered pink morsels that have been romanticised and popularised throughout the ages. Whenever I'm offered a piece of this candied jelly, I will usually politely decline, but stop to take a moment to inhale its wonderful aroma. To me, the scent of turkish delight is far more arresting than the taste.
So it was with some trepidation that I recently sampled Keiko Mecheri's Loukhoum... I was fearful that perhaps I would be exposed to the olfactory equivalent of the saccharine taste of loukhoum, as opposed to its exquisite perfume. But my concerns were unfounded. What I experienced when applying this to my skin was a beautifully radiant rose (which I had expected), but also the wonderful snowy powder of dry dusting sugar. A puff of silken florals emerged over a swirl of soft vanilla and fragrant candied almonds. After some time, I detected a comforting 'milkiness' which was both 'opaque' and 'white' in nature. Loukhoum has been well devised so that it imbues the air around you with an aromatic aura. It is not outlandishly cloying, but it does have incredible sillage and persistence.
I am pleased to have tried this eau de parfum, because it given me a new appreciation of the confectionary. And though I doubt any time soon I will be scoffing boxes of turkish delight like young Edmund in Narnia, I do like the idea that I can enjoy the best part of what this sweet has to offer - without the cavities, of course.