Perfume and booze have been getting pretty friendly over the last few years. While they might not be quite going steady – to push the dating analogy with a quaint Americanism – they are surely in the territory of Saturday night cinema dates (possibly seated somewhere in the back row) and the occasional dinner for two somewhere swanky.
Alice Lascelles’ old post in Imbibe is a good place to start for the would be alco-perfumer, with a useful selection of must-reads for the new acolyte. Plus a no doubt irresistible inside joke about Tony Conigliaro’s ‘organ’ (perfumer humour: fnar-fnar).
Bearing in mind such sympathy between the two arts, together with our on-going fascination for craftsmen and the ephemeral wonder of flavour and scent, we recently stopped by CB I Hate Perfume, the Brooklyn gallery of that glorious icon of the perfume world, Christopher Brosius. Founded almost a decade ago, its shelves are laden with evocative blends like In The Library (which smells, truly, of wise old leather, worldly dust and nostalgia-laden tomes) and At The Beach 1966 (all sun cream, hot sand, coastal picnics and the spray of salty sea water) alongside an astonishing array of single scents: Doll’s Head (a sweet candy-ish plastic that smells worryingly edible), Wet Pavement (all delicious mineral electricity) and our personal favourite, #269: Burnt Wood (the sweet scent of freshly lit tobacco leaf, fireside stories, a hint of sipped Rye, and the robust dying embers of an applewood fire in early Spring). And that’s not just us being eloquent or pretentious or eloquently pretentious – CB is renowned for crafting such sorcerous complexity.
Back in Blighty, meanwhile, we finally caught Monomania’s short film about CB and his story. And it blew us away. Aptly poetic, inspirational, and almost as evocative as the perfumes it charts, it’ll be the best four minutes you spend today. Go. Watch.