Custom Perfume

By Hilary Sterne

I once read that smell is the only sense that is fully developed before birth, and that it is the most highly evolved one in children until the age of 10, when sight takes over. Until I I once read that smell is the only sense that is fully developed before birth, and that it is the most highly evolved one in children until the age of 10, when sight takes over. Until then, kid are just grubby blind mole-rats learning about the world by sniffing their way towards the Play-Doh and the Annie's Mac and Cheese.

I also learned from this same article that because of the way the brain and the olfactory nerve work, scent and emotion are stored together, as a kind of super memory. then, kid are just grubby blind mole-rats learning about the world by sniffing their way towards the Play-Doh and the Annie's Mac and Cheese. I also learned from this same article that because of the way the brain and the olfactory nerve work, scent and emotion are stored together, as a kind of super memory. 

I have always had a freakishly keen sense of smell, for better or worse, and I sometimes think that if the Kuder assessment test I took when I was a teen had included anything about smelling aptitude, I might have wound up a nose for a major perfume house. Instead, I learned that I would most likely never be a surgeon, an astronaut or a clock repairer, all of which turned out to be true.

The Gift of Custom Perfume

My husband teases me for this trait but he also respects me for it (he knows I'd be the one to sound the alarm if there were ever a gas leak), and so when he gave me an empty perfume bottle for Christmas, I was both delighted and intrigued. He explained that I was to take it to the nearby Olfactory NYC store, where I would be invited to create my own custom perfume with which to fill it. It was the perfect gift for a grownup grubby blind mole-rat.

At the store, I was told I could choose from a dozen or so base fragrances and then add one of about 25 different accords, depending on my preference. I don't like powdery scents or most white flowers (the exception being Fréderic Malle Eau de Magnolia—if you are ever lucky enough to stay at the Four Seasons One Dalton in Boston as I once did, this is their house scent, which makes it almost worth the price of the room. And yes, I did take home the snowy whit disc of bar soap from the shower.)

Experimenting 

Among the choices that remained was a blend by Frank Voekl, the nose behind the wildly successful (and now very tiresome) Le Labo Santal 33 and Glossier You. It was described as a blend of fig, sandalwood and violet leaves and it smelled fresh but also a little dusky. I wore a fig fragrance, L'Artisan Perfumeueur Premier Figuier, at my wedding decades ago (is there anything sexier than a fig? Jamie Oliver says no). and violets were the first flowers my father showed me how to pick for my mother from the grassy banks of our suburban backyard. It somehow seemed apt as super memories go.

The End Result 

I narrowed down the accords to a few with similar gourmand notes, settling on one that featured ambrette and oakmoss, which achieved something slightly sweeter and less sharp in the drydown. Then I got to name it, and since I was allowed nine characters, I went with Gustavino, a reference to the tiles on the ceiling of the colonnaded pavilion where I got married while wearing the first fig perfume. (Rafael Gustavino left his mark on the undersides of arches throughout New York City, including those at the Grand Central Oyster Bar, where I'd occasionally treat myself to the oyster pan roast when I was a young magazine editor)

My husband was appropriately enthusiastic about what I brought home, but scent isn't really a thing for him like it is for me, nothing he really notices or appreciates, just background occasionally becoming foreground to signal a run to the trash bin is in order or it's rotisserie chicken hour at the local grocery store. He's happy that I love his gift, and that's good enough for me.