On my second day of wearing bogue_profumo Unfiltered 7, I had the overwhelming urge to walk up to the National Portrait Gallery and revisit their small collection of Francesca Woodman prints.

Unfiltered 7 opens with everything: a wild rush of shimmering orris and golden pollen blown wide on a mentholated breeze. I have never smelled such a cheerful, sunny orris before; a few minutes in, when the iris disappeared, subsumed by a glowing, herb-infused resinous syrup, I felt cheated.

I should have known better. This was just the start of the game.

Like that walk up with the gallery, moving through patches of sunlight and crisp shade as the wind chased the clouds, the orris emerges and retreats, but each time grows stronger, more present, until it’s an expanse of lime-washed plaster, an earth-scattered floor, and the powdered cool silver of a vase of drying eucalyptus cinerea leaves on a long golden evening.

Gardoni’s kaleidoscopic perfumes nearly always make me reach for analogies from installation and kinetic art: trying to express the playful exploration of how your body balances with the shifting light, shadows, and shapes as you move around and through the works.

Standing in front of these small prints, the conjunction with Woodman made perfect sense: seeing her body merging with the structures, tangles of limbs around fireplaces, obscured by mirrors, cloth or loose hair, blending into torn wallpaper and crumbled plaster, cut through with bright reflections, glowing with the sheen of long-exposure softened skin. Unfiltered 7 seems to explore similar boundaries, with softened time and textures, sinking and escaping, swirling with movement and warm light.

There’s a familiarity here, a recognisable Gardoni signature, but you can write new poems without changing your handwriting. And there is still more in this Unfiltered anthology to discover.