Perfume Diaries

In a unique social experiment, we find out if a fragrance can change the way you experience the world and vice versa.

- SAUMYAA VOHRA

My grandmother always smelled of flowers. As a child, I would wander into her floral-scented dressing room and find the air infused with lavender and rose. Her perfectly kept wooden chiffonier was lined with delicate bottles of Cristalle by Chanel and Anaïs Anaïs by Cacharel, beside her equally fragrant hairbrush, soft pastel lipsticks, and lilac-scented talcum powder. The memory of that scent became so ingrained that every time I smelled a delicate floral fragrance, I was reminded of her, conjuring the image of her as I had always seen her—impossibly graceful, elegant, and deeply feminine.

Over the years, I noticed that people often stopped to compliment her when we strolled through Delhi’s Priya Complex after a coffee, or at an army party where I was a reluctant guest. It became clear that the world saw her the same way I did.

The seeds of this experiment had always been there. I found myself noticing how a particularly audacious amber perfume would make me feel sexy, or how I would reach for my Burberry Brit when stepping out for a fun, girly lunch. I also began to take note of people’s reactions: Men leaned in a little closer when I wore Louis Vuitton’s Fleur Du Désert while women complimented me in bathrooms when I wore the classic Issey Miyake. I had long believed that different notes awakened different aspects of my personality, but I had never tested that theory in a deliberate way—until now.

For this experiment, I wore a different fragrance every night for a week, selecting one from each of the four major fragrance families, as well as one quintessential men’s fragrance. I also matched my clothing to the fragrance bottles as best I could. Then, I took note of how wearing each fragrance made me feel and how other people reacted to me in the social settings I was in. The results were fascinating.

ORIENTAL (SPICY)