Hocus Pocus



If I had to describe my dream study it would go something like this – mahogany floors, shelves filled with copious jars of herbs and bath salts that reach all the way to vaulted ceilings. In between working I could go and brew a chamomile tea say, or mix up a packet of Love Potion No.9 soaks for a friend. Then I’d pull down a book on The Language of Flowers for a quick mosey, spray myself with any of the Australian Bush Flower essences and maybe take a few drops of astragalus tincture to boost my immune system. Sound far-fetched? Could be, but Flower Power in the East Village is the living, breathing embodiment of all these fantasies come true, just in a blaze of incense and candlelight. If there is an olfactory equivalent to Tennessee Williams ubiquitous “A Streetcar Named Desire,” it’s the nostalgia-laced scent of my favorite New York city apothecary, a fragrance of note played on repeat all throughout the year. Too much of a good thing can be, well, too much some say, but inhale of any of the lush aromas found in vessels, decanters or tiny bags around the store and you’ll be transported. Utterly. My day is infinitely better if I have the time to mix and play with their oils, which I know sounds indulgent, but who doesn’t want to choose the metaphorical horse on which they ride on from sunrise to sunset? As it’s cold, I’m all about a little frankincense, myrrh, rose and geranium because it’s warming and holy (and I think that’s what Bethlehem would have smelt like), which seems powerful. I keep on imagining the endless possibilities.

Flower Power // 406 E 9th St, New York

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