Listening
Room

In Tokyo, I often visited a park called Shinjuku Gyoen. The park has a very beautiful large pond and a wooden house overlooking it. It’s also the setting of Makoto Shinkai’s anime, The Garden of Words. I used to sit there once a week, sometimes on Thursdays, sometimes Fridays, eating a bento and looking out at the pond.

I’ve seen that scene in all four seasons, but my favorite is when it rains. The rain creates a sparkling, silvery veil, and the entire space is enveloped in the gentle sound of rain and the clean, fresh scent. That’s the inspiration behind Pluviophile.

Pluviophile means a lover of rain, also the name of this exhibition. Loving rain, and loving oneself in the rain, to be more precisely. For me, whenever it rains, my energy peaks. That’s why most important events in my year happen during this time. In the rain, my thoughts become clear, the rain providing a soothing background for my reflections.

I think rain lovers are to some extent romantics. Many find rain annoying, but we rain lovers borrow the sounds, colors and scents of rain to bring out our inner worlds, to refill our energy. I hope that the scent of Pluviophile can soothe you, accompany you, or simply tell you that there is always beautiful stories about the rain, so you realize that life always has the gentle moments with you.

Just six months ago, I experienced one of the most significant moments of my life, becoming a mother. When my baby was three months old, the doctor advised me to let him feel the world by removing socks and mittens. I fondly remember the sparkle in my baby’s eyes when his tiny feet touched the ground. It’s in these moments we begin to explore and learn about the world.

Green Green Grass is the scent that takes me back to my childhood, walking barefoot on lush green lawns. The aroma of freshly cut grass, earthy and slightly tangy, mixed with coolness and damp soil, and a hint of sour candy in my mouth. Just simple and carefree days.

Nowadays, our shoes often disconnect us from the simple joy of feeling grass beneath our feet, and that pure, green scent becomes a rare experience. Do you remember the fresh scent of green grass?

Since I was a kid, the seasons in my life revolved around the weather. Sunny days meant playing with marbles and flying kites, while rainy days brought different joys. We, the kids, stayed indoors, watching the rain or floated paper boats.

The scent of rain is special. It’s called petrichor, the earthy smell that comes when rain falls on dry ground. In Greek, petra means stone and ichor refers to the blood of the gods.

Saigon, sometimes hot and dry, becomes so soft and lovely with the arrival of rain. The distinct scent of the earth after rain is due to a compound called geosmin, something I learned about during my fragrance studies and now use in my creations. I also realized that many people love this scent. The damp earth after tropical rain is just unique. Listen to the rain, smelling the earth and drifting into the dreamless nap. That’s just pure happiness.

I have a special fondness for clear umbrellas. I think it’s the most beautiful of its kind. Once, I traveled to a distant part of Ibaraki Prefecture, navigating a map densely packed with kanji, making it hard to find my way. After taking a wrong train, I had to wait, like, 30 minutes in the rain. Standing under my umbrella, I watched the rain fall, each drop creating playful sounds.

I found a small shelter and quickly went inside, leaving a trail of water from my wet umbrella. An elderly woman approached me, showing me how to properly shake off and store the umbrella. Even in a remote station, the lesson in meticulousness and doing things right stayed with me.

The scent of that wet umbrella lingers: plastic, damp air and the thoughtful moments that shape who I am today. I don’t think that Wet Umbrella is a scent that will be loved or adored by many people, but I just love the spirit and my own memory behind that. Each person, we always have a certain kind of scent that reminds us of how special that moment was. How about you? What is your wet umbrella scent?

Rain doesn’t just grace Saigon with its presence. Have you ever sat by West Lake during a spring rain? Gentle and pure, the rain is light enough not to stop joggers but refreshing enough to add clarity to conversations.

Spring rains by West Lake in Hanoi are very peaceful, with the smell of moss and the cool, fresh breeze of the season. The scent of water just mingles with the faint metallic tang of ozone. I remember sitting by the lake, enjoying the gentle drizzle. Hanoi felt so tranquil.

A Wooden Chair. Normally, when we think of woody notes, what would you imagine? Maybe it is the velvet and creamy note of sandalwood, dryness from cedarwood, or something earthy and damp from patchouli. But in this scent, A Wooden Chair, I want to associate it with sadness.

When you’re sad, do you have a place to go? Many of my friends go to a whiskey bar, choosing a good drink and meeting someone to talk to. But when I’m sad, I prefer to be alone. You know that kind of heart-wrenching sadness, the kind you can’t share, but you all felt it. At such times, I often found solace on a wooden bench in a park.

If you never sat alone in a park near Notre Dame Cathedral and Au Parc cafe in Saigon, watching tamarind leaves fall, you’re missing out. Imagine your sadness like those leaves: when they’re all gone, so is the sorrow. There are so many leaves.

Rain rarely visits when I sit on that park bench, but when it does, it’s unforgettable. What am I doing here? Why did the rain come now? Will I get wet? Oh well, I’m sad. They say wood holds memories, so if you leave some sadness there, the wood will absorb it for you, easing your burden. If you sit there long enough counting the tamarind leaves, maybe sadness won’t come again. Your mind will get busy, counting leaves instead.

A Wooden Chair carries the deep emotions I poured into it, a fierce sorrow not yet faded. That was me in that moment, befriending my sadness and frustration, regretting that I couldn’t do better in countless scenarios. But I’ll be okay. Next time when I return to that bench, perhaps I just enjoy a cup of tea, watching the grounds, not sad anymore.

After a rain, have you ever noticed what happens close to the ground? Lush green grass and resilient herbs, despite the storm, stand proud and fresh. Unlike large trees that can be toppled by the wind, small wildflowers endure. The scent of wildflowers after rain was a discovery I made during a leisurely walk.

In May, you’ll find bluebells and lily of the valley flowers, with delicate, clean, slightly tart scents associated with fairies and good luck. There was a time I saw lily of the valley growing in a small bush at the Temple of Literature in Hanoi. It’s a sign of good fortune to me. I was very surprised to see it, but until I realized that maybe it was a really good sign of luck when I had a chance to get back and reunited with my family in Vietnam. Smelling wild flowers in the rain means being close to the earth, reminding us of life’s diversity and nature’s delicate handiwork.