olive

Twenty years ago, my journey into the world of oils began not in a laboratory, but in the heart of old Amman’s herbal shops. Amidst sacks of fragrant herbs and shelves of darkened bottles, I received an education that no university could offer. The seasoned keepers of these shops, their knowledge passed down through generations, spoke a unique language. They didn't just see oils as commodities; they saw them as living entities with temperaments—some "hot," some "cold."

I remember the earnest advice: "Never use only hot oils on your hair. You must balance them." At the time, with a master's degree in engineering, I listened with polite skepticism. How could an oil be "hot" if it wasn't heated? It wasn't until I applied pure olive oil to my own hair, only to find it brittle and my scalp irritated, that I began to listen. A traditional hairdresser later nodded knowingly, "Olive oil is a hot oil. In the sun, it can almost 'burn' the hair."

This was my introduction to a profound, ancient