It started, as all great love stories do, with a sink.
There I was, halfway through yet another harried weekday, rushing between Zoom calls and toddler snack crises, when I caught sight of something on my bathroom sink that wasn’t toothpaste blobs or rogue toy dinosaurs. No, it was… a bottle. A chic, understated bottle that simply read: African Cedar + Orange Handwash.
Curious (and let’s be honest, avoiding work), I pumped a little into my hands.
And then—BAM. I was transported.
Not in that overly dramatic “I smelled it and floated away on a fluffy cloud of bliss” kind of way. No. This was more grounded, more earthy, more… real. It smelled like possibility. Like orange groves flirting with ancient trees. Like morning walks through dewy forests right before sunrise, when the world still feels secret. And it was only handwash.
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