The names of the Jorum Studio perfumes are a clue. They are such delicious words, words to taste and repeat: trimerous, phloem, nectary, medullary ray. It’s not just marketing guff or a random raid on a dictionary. The set of six launch fragrances is deeply thoughtful work from someone immersed in a fascination with botanical structures and the inner workings of plants. These are perfumes that revel in their love for materials, how they grow, change, and talk to each other.

Underneath the glossy figgy green and the lift of cardamom, there are so many layers of wood in Medullary-ray. There are living trees, unfinished planks drying, springy shaved curls from hand planing, a fine dusting of fresh sawdust, and chairs polished by generations of bodies. It’s not a lumberjack scent; someone else is doing the work, and that work includes editing out all the cliches of “woody masculine” fragrances. Wearing Medullary-ray, you get to kick back in the golden afternoon sun and eat olives.

For all the brains, this is a relaxed, comfortable fragrance. There’s plenty of conversation if you want it, but no awkward small talk. Listen to the bees instead, to the dull crackle as you pull a pomegranate apart and peel away the bitter membranes, to the rhythm of a plane pushed across an expanse of wood. Jorum’s perfumes are as sonorous and redolent as their names.

Euan McCall’s botanical curiosity is infectious. Do not be surprised by an urge to look closely at Karl Blossfeldt’s photographs, to peer at the cross-grain of old wooden furniture, or sit on the ground and stare into a herbaceous border while trying to remember the cell diagrams you drew in biology class. And all the while you will smell wonderful.

originally posted 21 July 2019