Fortunately, at least for me, it smells nothing like raw Moroccan leather–the piss and death reek of the Marrakesh tanning pits that is not mitigated one smidgen by a sprig of mint under your nose, or the just-cured “antique” saddle bags that look great but have to be banished into storage until the smell calms the hell down.

It’s far more subtle, classical even, perhaps barely even a leather perfume. A supple, well-worn leather jacket stored with a pomander in the pocket–not one of the manky ones you made in primary school that develops a fuzzy dead mildew smell that never goes away, but one that gives a pleasing balance of spice and bright citrus peel, sweetness and dust that sits below the tendrils of jasmine and orange blossom.

Is it leather, or a spice-and-flowers-and-resins scent? Both? Either way, it’s always a pleasure to wear and I’m super grateful for the generosity of @armadillos_cookie_queen that means I can

first posted 27 April 2019