I currently live in a small town near the Silverstone racing circuit and see fancy cars going by at weekends. They fall into three categories. The fat cats, in immense, menacing Aston Martins, Dark Matter Black with TW1T license plates, look the way the rich do, irritable and anxious. The petrolheads, in small, nimble cars made for fun around the local B-roads1 and on the track itself, look like kids on a merry-go-round, turning the wheel this way and that in glee, whether or not it has any effect.
Then there are the vintage guys in 1936 racing Bentleys, leather helmets, and faceted aviation goggles. They have a completely different look on their faces, of focused serenity and indifference to their surroundings, so much so that I sometimes wonder whether, through the goggles, they see the place as it was in 1936, empty of us gawkers. That state of mind, that unassailable feeling of cool no-matter-what, must be wonderful.
On present financial form, I am unlikely to experience it firsthand. But if I can’t have the car, at least I can have the fragrance that goes with it, and walk around all day surrounded by the air from another era. The discerning should then be able to hear the muted gear-whine of my virtual Bentley. Luckily, Darren Alan, apparently a scholar of the golden age of perfumery, is intent on bottling time travel. Tania summed up the effect when smelling Dorian’s Fougère: “Smells legit!”
For paid subscribers, reviews of Dorian’s Fougère, Hekate, Jonquille, Chypre No.1, Songes à Fleurs, and Bathory.
Samples kindly sent by Darren Alan.