hortus conclusus

Time to get a present for Dad, and if yours is anything like mine, that is a serious challenge. Most dads don’t want anything you can afford to get them (cars, computers, trips to exotic locales) so you usually flake out and go for the easy options (ties, food, drink, fragrance, books, gift certificates, etc.) Well, this is a fragrance blog, so I can help you with one of those categories. Here are my top ten picks for smells for Dad for this year. Some are pricey, some are cheap, some are in the middle. These are not only some of my favorite masculines, they are also all a little more unique than the ubiquitous Ralph Lauren Polo or Hugo Boss. You can also check out my guidelines for picking out perfumes for mom , but sometimes dads are a little harder to read, and give you less to work with. These are in no particularly significant order, by the way. These are not necessarily my favorite masculines of all time; they are just ones I think most men would not push away in disgust, and ...

Like the James Hilton novel that began the craze for the fantasy of the lost utopian fairyland in the Himalayas, this is going to be an exercise in orientalism. After all, I have never been to Yunnan province, so I can only project my own desires and fantasies onto that place. But Orientalism, like every decadence, can be wonderful in moderation, so I invite you to come with me on a trip to Shangri-La. Since Yunnan is the original home of Camellia Sinensis , you must brew yourself some Pu-erh tea. This is a dark, earthy, yet somehow floral tea, ad it tastes exotic and unique. Sip it l ingeringly, and enjoy it while wearing Jean-Claude Ellena’s masterpiece, Hermessence Osmanthe Yunnan , which I consider to be his very best tea scent, minimalism done exactly right. Note how well the scent of the tea and the imagined floral tea interact with one another.   I also recommend watching the chapter of the BBC’s Wild China on Yunnan Province. It is absolutely gorgeous, a...

I have been going through a citrus phase lately, wearing Hermes Eau d'Orange Verte and Serge Lutens' Fleurs D'Oranger lots and lots , and even sometimes the light citrusy juices Eau de Fleurs de Cedrat and Euphoria Blossom . I found myself mixing a drink last night that really summed up my feelings on the matter. You can see that it looks a bit like a raw egg, so I'm still trying to come up with the right moniker. The 'yolks' in the center are little kumquats, cut in half and squeezed lightly to release their singular citrus fragrance and flavor. I cut up a lime and put it in a shaker with just the tiniest soupcon of Saint-Germain elderflower liqueur, then poured in the Russian Standard vodka that is my hands-down preference for vodka (an article coming on this soon) and a bit of homemade club soda. The composition overall is very fragrant, delicate, and delicious, and tastes a little bit like drinking some bespoke flower water.

Hermes bel ami is a gorgeous surprise! The citrus at the top is perfectly calibrated with the spice and the woods below it, and smells so refined. I get a little dirt topsoil note too-probably vetiver, that grounds this and makes it spread out. It reminds me--in the best way-- of sweat, bitter and salty, and I can imagine being very turned on by a man who wore this. What blows me away about this is that it smells so complete, so perfect in its way, both craggy and rounded. A contradiction in its very nature. I guess that is what leather is; something that is smooth yet durable and edgy at the same time. I love the idea of a perfume paradox.

I am sure it's not just me; one of my favorite smells in the world is the smell of a sweaty man. To me it is a rich, fragrant experience, which means happiness and safety. I got this way when I was very little. Two of my most important male figures in my family--my uncle and my best friend's dad--were both very fragrant men, and I loved being near them because I loved them. My own father didn't smell sweaty in this way--his was more subtle, a scent that would linger on his pillowcases and bathrobes, but you couldn't smell on his person. I associated the comfort of his presence with the smell of whiskey and Borkum Riff pipe tobacco. As I write this, I think, no wonder I like all those woody, darker scents. It's all regression, at the end of the day, or at least Herr Doktor Freud would say so! As I got older, I--strangely enough--tended to date men who had little personal fragrance at all. My first serious longtime boyfriend did not smell unless he had been...