As Fate Will Have It… A Love Letter to the Scent That Took Me Back

Have you ever chased a scent so deep into your memory it stopped you cold and brought tears to your eyes?

I wasn’t ready.
Not today.
Not while blending oils in my quiet little workspace, minding my own peaceful business. But I reached for a bottle, added a few drops, swirled them together… and BAM. Instant time warp.

And if you grew up in Buffalo, NY, like I did, this one’s going to hit hard (especially if you no longer live there).

Let me take you back. I am going to age myself here....Back to the real mall days. The 90s. The era of Baja pullovers, hacky sacks, mood rings, and Doc Martens with everything. We wandered the mall like it was a sacred ritual, fueled by Orange Julius and teen angst. There was always that one store, the place that felt like a portal to something deeper, stranger, more magical...

New Age Creations.

That store was a full-body experience. You smelled it before you saw it. Thick clouds of patchouli, nag champa, incense sticks burning low in hand-carved wooden holders. Tie-dye everything. Velvet everything. Crystals in every corner. Tarot decks calling your name. A vibe you couldn't explain, you could only feel.

I've been chasing that scent for decades. I’ve walked into metaphysical shops all over here in Raleigh hoping for a whiff of that specific blend, but it was never quite right.

Until today.

✨ As Fate Will Have It ✨
That’s what I’m naming the blend. Because what else could I possibly call something that time-traveled my soul straight back to Eastern Hills Mall?

It’s patchouli-forward, yes, but softened. Deepened with woods. Kissed with myrrh. Something floral and smoky swirls in the background like a half-remembered spell. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to bottling the exact energy of that place, that time.

And with it came a flood of memories:

• Tie-dye skirts, that twirled just right when we danced barefoot at bonfires, and tie-dyed shirts that still have not gone out of style.

• Those one-size-fits-all dresses with elephants, suns, and moons that somehow worked.

• Flannel shirts tied around our waists even in July.

• Pool games in someone’s dim basement, lava lamp glowing in the corner, The Doors or The Cranberries echoing off the wood-paneled walls.

• The boyfriend who was just a little older, in a worn Grateful Dead tee and jeans, passing you a clove cigarette like it was sacred. (Sorry honey, not you. 😅)

• Long talks under starlight about astrology, reincarnation, and where to hide from your parents when you missed curfew.

This scent? It’s him.
It’s that night.
It’s us, before life got heavy.

It’s not exact. It never will be. But it’s enough that I cried. I laughed. And I sat there grinning like the girl I used to be, the one who dreamed of having her own shop full of candles and crystals and handmade everything.

Maybe I never really left her behind.
Maybe she was just waiting for me to remember.

So here’s to you, my fellow Buffalo souls.
To the GenXers and Xennials who grew up on incense and intuition.
To the tie-dye queens, the seekers, the weirdos (in the best way).
To the ones who felt the magic, even back then.

I found the scent.
And as fate would have it now you can too.

With love, patchouli, and a tie-dye heart