Clean and Fragrant

Fragrance has always been more than decoration. It’s chemistry, trade, labor, and memory — all filtered through the skin.

Oud is where patience lives. It comes from agarwood trees that grow in Southeast Asia. When the wood is infected by a particular mold, the tree produces a dark resin to protect itself. That’s oud — a defense mechanism that became a luxury. It can take decades for a tree to mature, and the scent carries that weight. Smoky, dense, and a little animalic.

White musk sits at the other end of the spectrum. Once taken from musk deer, it’s now lab-made, clean, and soft. I like that it keeps the warmth of skin without the harm. It’s synthetic, yes, but ethical and consistent — a reminder that human ingenuity can sometimes correct old mistakes.

Champaca is work. The flowers are hand-collected before dawn across South and Southeast Asia. They wilt quickly, so distillation happens the same morning. The scent is golden and heavy, floral without sweetness. It smells like industry and beauty coexisting.

Bergamot is the bright one — green citrus grown mostly in Calabria. It’s what gives Earl Grey tea its sharp edge. In perfume, it’s the first note you notice and the first to disappear. I like it because it keeps things honest. Nothing lasts forever, not even the top notes.

Frankincense and myrrh are the old world’s version of gold — traded across Africa and Arabia long before perfume counters existed. Their smoke still threads through mosques and churches, not as an aesthetic choice but as continuity. When I smell them, I think of economies built on scent and of how value travels through air.

“Perfume is proof that memory has texture.”

Each of these materials has a story that predates marketing. I’m less interested in chasing purity or minimalism and more in learning how something ends up in a bottle. The skin is only the final surface — the rest is geology, agriculture, and history.