I recently had to take a DiSC assessment for work (everyone else on the team had gone through this exercise before I joined). I had taken one almost 10 years ago and come out a “high C” as I like to call it. From the official website, the DiSC profile segments personality types into 4 main quadrants:
- (D)ominance: tend to be confident and place an emphasis on accomplishing bottom-line results
- (i)nfluence: tend to be more open and place an emphasis on relationships and influencing or persuading others
- (S)teadiness: tend to be dependable and place the emphasis on cooperation and sincerity
- (C)onscientiousness: tend to place the emphasis on quality, accuracy, expertise, and competency
Some coworkers had mentioned how their results had changed over time, probably from adapting to the demands of their roles, and I thought mine might also, just a little bit. Nope. I landed at a textbook C.
While this trait helps me excel at my work as a content reviewer, I am also well aware of how it can be a hindrance and energy drain (to myself). I haven’t overthought less as a result of having this label affirmed, but I have been hyperconscious of when I’m doing it.
One day last week, I woke up to a terse email that had been composed around midnight, contesting one of my comments in a document. The situation had become sticky because we really should have taken the discussion offline one step earlier, but once it had been started within the document, it required written resolution to create an audit trail. The issue itself was very minor, but even so, I had taken a disproportionate amount of time crafting my end of the conversation. In Chinese, there is a saying (越描越黑，yuè miáo yuè hēi) that translates into “the more you trace, the darker it becomes,” which is used as an admonition not to overexplain and end up making something look like a bigger deal than it is. That is what happened, and the intent of my comment had been misinterpreted.
Flustered, I spent the better part of an hour composing a reply with careful wording to convey, basically, that I was fully on their side and not trying to place barriers but had needed to comment a certain way for documentation purposes. (It wasn’t quite the time or circumstance to get on a call about it…) All the while, I was watching the minutes go by in disbelief.
Having started my morning with such an anomalously negative exchange, I grabbed my bottle of Jacomo Silences to protect my aura for the rest of the day. Also because I hadn’t worn it in a long time.
(They then replied that they had misunderstood my comment, the minor issue was addressed, and we were all happy.)
I don’t remember where I first learned about Silences and its place in the perfume landscape as fragrant armor. Maybe it was Fragrantica. This review by The Black Narcissus confirmed my desire to buy it. See also this excellent exploration by Serenity Now Scents and Sensibilities.
It is green, and I love it. However, the green is darker and more like a constant backdrop to an array of flowers and citrus notes. On the nozzle, I smell something like lipstick or cosmetics. A spritz sets the record straight—the opening is irrefutably bitter, and a symphony of leaves and grasses proclaim that they have been freshly torn. Never are florals absent. I detect rose, maybe lily-of-the-valley, but the others (orange blossom, hyacinth, iris, narcissus, and jasmine) I struggle to distinguish. They harmonize and remind me of luxury bar soaps from the 90s or earlier, but Silences is not “soapy” by any means. This bouquet translated visually to me would be like the Renaissance-style art on bonbon tins.
After a few minutes, the honeyed facet of florals, which I adore, becomes more prominent. The whole perfume “purrs” on me, as does Chanel N°19 EdP, contrary to being the steely, icy presence one might need at times. The oakmoss carries the lush greenness seamlessly into a woody drydown that I wish would last longer than a few hours.
So, rather than chain mail or spiky twigs, Silences arms me with flowers… soft, plush flowers.
Which is just fine for situations where we are, in reality, all on the same team.