Perfumery

In the darkening days of the pandemic, perhaps about six months in, after the front door had hardened as a threshold, an envelope fell onto the mat: 'for Olivia Smith'

I shan't say who Olivia Smith was, because at that time her characteristics were very eroded. But the envelope contained little vials that would – Wonderlandesque – shapeshift me back into the world. Perfume samples from a friend. Six or seven.  

frankincense, oakmoss, clary sage

My favourite sample was heavy, and its marketing (when I looked it up) talked about sexy machines and motor oil. It led my hardened mind back to Flashdance and Jennifer Beals welding. mandarin, violette leaf, amber. In 2022 someone I hadn't seen since childhood climbed straight out of this little bottle, no longer than a six-year-old's index finger. Exactly the kind of person the scent reviews expected: blond leather, metallic notes, cassis, old school and sentimental.

Perfume descriptions have always offered subtle shifts in persona via images and fantasies, and these little key-changes in reality were my way out of a labyrinth. I read about the Osmothèque, a perfume archive in Versailles, and I wonder how many people have used scents as escape ladders before.

Another sample was one of those annoyingly bright and floral scents worn by people celebrating big things – like a millenium or a wedding. I wore this on my daily walk and took a sick delight in the fact it crossed the two metre distance between me and others. We were timid and terrified, but I smelt like the opening ceremony of the Olympics, like helium balloons spelling '21', like CAPS LOCK, and by inhabiting this monstrous razzle-dazzle character I found my sense of humour.

The samples, kept in their envelope, were multiple worlds. A series of doors through which to practice living again. A great and magical gift, delivered as if it was nothing. I didn't buy a big bottle of any of them, and not because I didn't want to, but because that would have been against the rules of the game.

The disquieting sample was the most normal one. Soft and citrus, the kind of perfume I'd have worn with a pretty dress to go to the library when I was twenty-five. orange flower and juniper... linger on the skin with subtle shades on incense. This scent didn't extend far away from the body. It reminded me of the small, private space of reading rooms, of concentrating on detail, to put on my jewellery, and of people coming close enough to smell your neck, which we didn't do much at the time the samples were posted through the door 'for Olivia Smith', but which I did manage to do afterwards, so thank you Natasha, this is my letter of gratitude. x