Don't Call it a Comeback! Patchouli, Long Forgotten, Was Never Really Gone
“Here, smell this,” says Cecelia Louche, proffering a slim forearm accented with tattoos of nautical stars, swallows, and a portrait of her deceased grandmother. “It’s patchouli oil. Doesn’t is smell amazing?” Patchouli, once the official scent of the Summer of Love, is finding favor with a new generation.Ms. Louche takes a sip of her Norwegian Egg Coffee at Ritual Roasters in the Mission District and explains how she came to be a patchouli wearer just a few weeks ago. “I was buying some Humboldt Fog and grazing the olive bar at Whole Foods when I remembered I was out of lotion,” she says. “I was way too stressed out about finishing up my History of Consciousness application to go to Kiehl’s for some Creme de Corps so I decided to check out the lotions there. I saw this Kiss My Face patchouli lotion that had a peace sign on the front. It was funny, because all the others had a mint leaf or a lemon on them. I tried some and you know what? I loved it. And better still, I knew no one I knew would be wearing it, too.”
The pungent, musky scent has found Ms. Louche no shortage of admirers. Her boyfriend, Tobias Johnson, a printer at a local letter press and multi-instrumentalist in West Oakland noise band The Saragossa Manuscript, has been referring to her endearingly as his “Little Hippie Girl.” More recently, a salesperson at Barney’s showed her approval. “I was trying on this Philip Lim dress on the Co-op floor and I asked if the 6 was too big and the salesgirl was like, ‘Sweetie? What scent are you wearing? Is that the new Etat Libre D’Orange? Did Marni come out with a perfume?’ and I was like, ‘No! It’s patchouli!’ And then I told her I totally had the Built By Wendy high waisted skirt she was wearing at home and she gave me an invite to this clothing swap she promised will be really good.”
To be sure, residents of the Haight-Ashbury district, Reggae on the River attendees, and caucasian men who wear their hair in the dreadlocks style have often favored the unmistakable aroma of patchouli. In fact, Ms. Louche isn’t even the first in her family to dab on the exotic oil. Her mother, Kali Spiritfeather (nee Allison Abernathy), was fond of it in her youth. “I can’t believe Ceci is wearing patchouli,” laughs Ms. Spiritfeather, who was reached on her mobile phone as she was parallel parking her Porsche Cayenne in front of her Bernal Heights victorian. “I’m pretty sure the last time I wore it was when I went to Altamont. And that’s about all that I want to remember from that day.”