My Mystery Friend, Part I

Complete with mystery fragrance

credit: Wikimedia

I mentioned some time back that a young man approached me at Michael Edwards’s event at the British Society of Perfumers in Piccadilly. He handed me a sample of By Matthew Zink, which was memorable. I have corresponded with him since, and his love for perfume turns out to be the sort that gives superpowers, such as an X-ray nose, unerring taste, and the mental equivalent of Bruce Lee’s one-inch punch. He is currently finishing a PhD in Mathematics yet wants to be a perfumer. Given his abilities and my own interests, I am torn on how to react to this. I suspect whatever he chooses will cause at least one Muse to burst into tears.

He sent me a bag of decants, including a 1 ml spray labeled For Your Nose Only. For the record, I have no idea who did this fragrance (he assures me it is a Master), whether it will ever be sold, or even whether it is a finished composition or a work in progress. I feel I have to mention it because it is a message from perfume outer space, and it tells me that we are not alone. Someone out there knows what real perfumery should be, and may help make it whole again.

For Your Nose Only is, if you can imagine it, a combination of the driest, inkiest Chypre, in the manner of Antaeus (Chanel) and Or Black (Morabito), and the best sandalwood note I have smelled in fifty years. The sandalwood, in turn, combines smooth, powdery sweetness with a curdled-milk note, which is almost as sour as goat-cheese and joins up perfectly with the bitter darkness of the rest of the accord. The abstract emotion of the perfume is one of somber triumph. Cellini’s Perseus wears this while holding Medusa’s head in one raised hand and a scimitar in the other. I hope and pray that the employer of whoever did this will read this post before hitting send on another fruitchouli brief.

For paid subscribers: reviews of Artaban, Iris Shot, Sandor 70s and Personne.