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Stella Maris

Please enjoy my newest rendition of the perfumery blog, in which I explore my intuitions and knowledge on plant oils via a creative story, featuring my perfumes and members of the holy family.

This week, we dive into the ocean with Stella Maris and her namesake, Mary. <3

Roasted Coconut

She did it. She finally booked a getaway weekend for herself.

After many intense winter and spring months of crafting herbal remedies for her community (day AND night), tending to her garden and greenhouse, and supporting her little family unit…Mary is finally driving her bumblebee-yellow civic down to the beach, a lime popsicle dripping down her hand and layering her tongue with its tartness.

The windows are down, the Beyoncé is blaring…and she is experiencing that special feeling of fulfilling work well done balanced by just BEING…relaxing, letting her windblown bangs usher in a sense of simple euphoria.

Joseph promised to water her rosemary, her clary sage, her monarda…all her plant babies. The plants love his ~daddy~ presence anyway, always looking a bit lusher when he tends–it’s enough to make her eyes roll…but she loves it, too. Jesus promised to keep tabs on her email, fulfilling any necessary herbal orders while she is away. The Js will miss her but they will get by just fine. Jesus loves to cook and Joseph will catch up on some of that baseball racket he likes to watch.

As she stops at a red light, she turns and sees a little roadside stand selling fresh coconut milk. She clicks on the blinker and relishes the gravel crunch as her car edges into the little lot–time for a pit stop.


The house is to die for. A single-floor rancher, clay walls and stucco roof. And neon green shutters and porch furniture as the slightly odd but perfect accent.

Mary kicks off her espadrilles and relishes the one-moment heat beneath her feet to the next-moment cool tile floor as she crosses the threshold. The smells of the beach home invigorate her.

Citrusy clean mingling with salt mingling with old woven fabric couches. She’s inside but it’s impossible NOT to feel the ocean breeze already–it’s infused into the space. Without pause, she walks straight toward the collection of floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out to a long empty beach and finally…the ocean. Her friend. Her lover. Her soul.

For who knows how long, Mary just stares, witnessing her entire nervous system attune to the froth and the waves and the rhythm. Her breathing is now tide, her heart a moon. When she finally looks away and turns to the kitchen, her eyes rest on an art deco style bowl, creamy white, filled to the brim with ripe limes.

Mocktail margaritas, anyone?

Mary spends the rest of the evening sipping and swaying, dancing with her ocean.

Seabuckthorn berry

After the best sleep of her LIFE, (no she is NOT exaggerating despite her jupiter in gemini placement) and a glass of pressed juice, Mary steps out into the sand, a bright red sun searching her skin. She is clad in large round sunnies, a royal blue short shift, and a zebra print bikini (WHY NOT?). She brings no beach bag (she lathered herself in 70 SPF)–just a big chair and a big hat and a big, empty wicker basket that Mary Magdalene bought her.

She knows she will be beachcombing most of the day.

In fact, her chair remains folded as Mary walks up and down, and up and down, and up and down the beach, discovering conches, green sea glass, and purple-striped scallops. She inspects carefully, and presses each treasure to her heart, making sure to ask before taking. With each shell she has a plant in mind; a scallop for her yarrow…a sunray venus for her roses…a shark eye swirl for thyme.

To other beach-goers, Mary is working too hard, walking too much. To Mary…this search is bliss.

At one point, Mary reaches a narrow section of beach, ushering her to some dunes where she catches a flash of red. As she gets closer, she hears sweet humming…a little bush full of seabuckthorn berry. Like her, the berries are full of ocean and whimsy.

She leaves them a scotch bonnet, her fav shell find of the day.


Time for perhaps her second favorite part of any beach trip (following the ocean, of course)...

A GD outdoor shower.

Like, is there a better experience in the world? Naked? Sea breeze? Sunkissed skin enveloped in warm water with seagulls cawing in the distance?

Nope. This is it. This is heaven.

Outdoor showers turn cleansing into deep ritual. The soap pulling away mundane worry, the lather coaxing in mundane magic.

Her body is spice. Her body is deep beach. Her body is gold.

She concludes with a soft ginger exfoliation, expressing the sun that took root in her skin.


On her last day of her getaway…Mary takes herself out.

She tries out the neon orange lipstick Mary Magdalene insisted would look divine with her Brown skin. Adorns herself in a perfume called Stella Maris, an offering to the ocean. Ties an orange silk scarf around her bodice and zips up a white denim skirt.

Now…where to go?

Just kidding she knows exactly where she is going–the local beach Taqueria.

She requests a small table at the edge of the deck, overlooking the soft swell and swampy greens of the bay.

A tray of of fish tacos with some tortilla and guacamole later, Mary is satisfied. She feels good, she looks good, and she smells good. She watches as the sun, like a glowing bergamot fruit, sets behind this side of earth, dripping its sunset juice of pinks and oranges all over the bay water.

It’s time to go home.

But more outdoor shower. And one more gorgeous sleep.

Interested in a bottle of Stella for all your beachy bliss needs? Head to the perfumery shop!

Thanks for reading, scent-sual babes.

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