For about ten years my wife and I lived in Cape Town.
Every now and then we’d make our way down to Muizenberg to a tiny little restaurant called Carla’s.
And when I say tiny, I mean tiny.
Five or six tables.
Right down by the beach.
The sort of place you only discovered because somebody told you about it.
Carla’s was owned and run by a fiercely patriotic Mozambican lady called, unsurprisingly, Carla.
Any evening at Carla’s was always a bit of an adventure.
One night Mozambique was playing a football match and at about half past eight Carla announced to all the patrons that it was time to finish up, settle the bill and head off because she was going home to watch the game.
No Discussion. Restaurant closed. Owner off to watch the football.
Carla’s menu changed constantly.
Depending on what she felt like cooking.
Depending on what ingredients had arrived.
Depending, I suspect, on her mood.
But there was one thing that was always on the menu.
The prawns.
Carla was enormously proud of her prawns.
Every visit involved a detailed explanation of how they had come fresh from Mozambique.
The prawns were her signature dish.
And my wife loved them.
So whenever we went to Carla’s, she ordered the prawns.
Every time.
Without exception.
No menu required.
Until one evening.
“The prawns haven’t arrived,” Carla announced.
No prawns.
My wife looked at the menu.
Then looked at Carla.
Then looked at the menu again.
Her options had suddenly narrowed to beef or chicken.
Reluctantly, she chose the beef.
The meal arrived.
She took a bite.
Then another.
Then another.
About halfway through she looked up and said:
“Why have I never ordered this before?”
The beef was exceptional.
Years of ordering the same thing had caused her to overlook something she might have enjoyed just as much.
Possibly even more.
I think about that evening quite often.
Because the things we repeatedly choose are often genuinely good.
There’s usually a reason we keep coming back to them.
But there’s a hidden cost.
Every time we choose the familiar, we’re saying no to the possibility that something else might be even better.
Fragrance works much the same way.
Most people find a scent they like.
Or a style they enjoy.
Or a fragrance family that feels comfortable.
And then they stay there.
Citrus.
Fresh.
Woody.
Sweet.
Whatever happens to be their thing.
Until one day they try something unexpected.
Something they would never normally choose.
And discover:
“I didn’t know I liked this.”
That’s a surprisingly powerful moment.
Because it isn’t just discovering a fragrance.
It’s discovering something about yourself.
One of the reasons I encourage people to explore is not because their current favourite is wrong.
Quite the opposite.
Your favourite is probably your favourite for a reason.
But every now and then it’s worth ordering the beef.
It’s worth trying something outside your usual comfort zone.
Not because you’ll always find something better.
But because occasionally you do.
Some of our customers know exactly what they like.
Others enjoy discovering something unexpected.
Both approaches have their place.
That’s why we offer a few different ways to explore:
Or, if you’ve already found a few favourites:
Because sometimes the fragrance you end up loving most…
Is the one you never intended to choose.
Until next time
Rob
"A perfume is like a piece of clothing, a message, a way of presenting oneself… a costume that differs according to the woman who wears it."
Yves Saint Laurent