aged wood, coal, iris, ink, black tea, linen, worn leather. madonna in a fur coat.
03.27
10:04PM
Istanbul, TR
Musk, immortelle, vanille
06.30
3:45PM
London, United Kingdom
Sweet and tender like old roses before they fall apart in your hands
05.15
11:04AM
London, United Kingdom
Faint smell of glue and jasmine…
04.16
11:06AM
London, United Kingdom
TOBACCO smoke, coffee, the smell after it rains, paprika & musky bookshop
04.14
10:03AM
London, United Kingdom
smoke, shakespearean literature, coffee forgotten about and gone cold, messy, boozy kisses and smudged berry lipstick, icy cold metal against your skin, the dampness of the earth by the lake as you glance over your shoulder one last time
02.12
6:52PM
London, United Kingdom
Saffron, cardamom abd patchouli
05.18
11:58AM
Kirkintilloch, United Kingdom
Raining outside, napping with a loved one inside. The temperature always perfect
05.17
12:58PM
Lucheux, France
Sweat, salty skin, milky and leather
04.18
1:44PM
Ilford, United Kingdom
sweat, the smell of salty skin in the sun, sunscreen, the sea
04.15
4:34PM
London, United Kingdom
Strawberry lip gloss, blood, and tuberose.
04.15
2:00PM
Fulham, United Kingdom
the scent of summer in england, the smoking rooms in country houses, the smoke from the factories, and sex.
The forest in late summer, the cold stone walls of a castle, the metal tang of a kitchen sink and the scent of bluebells.
04.10
9:06PM
Portland, United States
Après L’ondée meets Cuir de Russie
04.10
4:59PM
Chula Vista, United States
The scent of rain hitting the wet cold ground, fresh tea, the lingering smell of sandalwood and the sweat of someone you love
04.10
2:11PM
London, United Kingdom
Naphthalene, bursted sausages left cold, and mother’s vintage perfume… maybe one of the classic Guerlains or Rochas’ Femme?
04.10
12:58PM
London, United Kingdom
It would be the smell of earth and sex, sex on soil? Or sweat and salt, a summer night and peaches and apricots.
Tell us your secrets
I.
An unconventional scent you adore.
The first instance in winter where a fur coat is to be worn and it still holds the weight of waiting all year in one’s wardrobe, heavy with dust and dress-bags and dry death
I was twelve when my best friend visited New Orleans - this would have been a two day drive in the pale yellow Cadillac (with fin tails to give you a hint of the era). An adventure to the big city. On return she presented me with a tiny bottle that i’d imagined came from a secret backstreet distillery.
I locked my bedroom door and sink to the floor unscrewing the top to inhale. Breathing in what smelt sweet and floral and like the future.
Spray starch, dandruff shampoo, Players Real Red, old wools, an ulcer behind their lip, the old jacket with wonky lining from a wet and windy corner of Wales