Karel – Kiên, a son of Vietnam, carrying an enduring love for his mother and homeland. His lone return awakened a wistful yearning for Vietnam, a land that, though distant for many years, has never ceased to beat within his heart.
[In the Guest’s Own Words]
“I called my mom every day during my solitary journey back to Vietnam. Born and raised in the Czech Republic, I carry few memories of this land, apart from the stories of her youth and the lilting accents of Vietnamese she has taught me. To me, Vietnamese has always been a language of difficulty – and of beauty.
I regret not returning to Vietnam sooner, for this country revealed a beauty far beyond my imagination. The terraced fields cascading down the hills, the untouched forests, the jade-like water of sea, and the ancient houses with their Oriental grace, all of it felt unfamiliar, yet mesmerizing, to someone raised in the West. In those days, as I wandered Vietnam, I began to grasp the stories my mom once told: the landscapes she gazed upon, the adventures she embarked on in her youth. And in those moments, I missed her with an aching tenderness.
In Vietnamese, ‘YÊU’ means ‘love’; in my Czech tongue, it is ‘milovat.’ Mama would always say ‘MẸ YÊU CON’ instead of ‘I love you’ or ‘Miluji tě’, as her way of keeping my Vietnamese roots alive within me. Serendipitously, I recall her scent, a fragrance that to me is childhood itself, and profoundly, unmistakably Vietnamese.
I asked Ngọc Anh – my Viet friend who knows about perfumes pretty well, and Helen – the workshop instructor at NOTE’s perfume workshop, about a fragrance that feels truly Vietnamese. That was when I discovered ‘Sen’ (Lotus), a scent so profoundly tied to Vietnam yet one I had never encountered while living in the Czech Republic. I blended it with a touch of tuberose, the flower my mom loved so much she even set it as her phone wallpaper, and a hint of Moroccan rose, the familiar fragrance of fabric softener she often used at home.
Then, I suddenly remembered the warmth of my mama’s arms cradling me as a child, and I asked Helen if there was a fragrance that could feel as comforting as her embrace. She let me smell Amber, and I knew at once I could never forget its distinctive scent. It was as cozy as my mama’s hug, carrying the timeless aura of the Czech architecture I often visited, yet also sacred like the Vietnamese temples I had a chance to explore. A single fragrance, yet it could summon all of my memories.
With the wholehearted guidance of Helen, I created my very first bottle of perfume, a scent made especially for mama – a fragrance of Vietnam, a fragrance of love. I named it ‘Mama Yêu,’ as my way of whispering to her ‘CON YÊU MẸ’ (I love you). You know, it’s never easy for a son to put their feelings into words.
Vietnamese is always so beautiful to me, because ‘MẸ YÊU CON’ (Mom loves her child) is different from ‘CON YÊU MẸ’ (Children love their mom). In Czech or English, it is only ‘Miluji tě’ or ‘I love you,’ where the subject never changes.
Mom, you know what… ‘CON YÊU MẸ’
My Formula
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