Cozumel

Cozumel arrives as a peculiar proposition: a fragrance that seems caught between a botanical apothecary and a smouldering cedar grove. Marie Duchêne's 2009 creation reads like someone has pressed aromatic herbs directly into damp wood, then lit frankincense smoke beneath it all. The Thai basil cuts through with an almost medicinal brightness—slightly peppery, slightly licorice-tinged—whilst the bergamot refuses to dominate, instead threading through like a supporting player rather than a lead. What's genuinely intriguing is the blond tobacco in the heart, which doesn't smell like cigarette smoke but rather like opening an antique cigar box lined with paper and herbs; it's dusty, slightly sweet, and wholly unexpected.

This is a fragrance for the cerebral wearer—someone who gravitates towards Comme des Garçons or Heeley Sel Marin rather than conventional florals. There's a distinctly bohemian character here, something between a vintage textile shop and a monastery herb garden. The sandalwood and cedarwood base give it an architectural quality, though the tonka bean's warmth prevents it from becoming austere. It's powdery without being dusty, woody without feeling heavy, and the clary sage adds an herbal-floral dimension that prevents any single note from overstaying its welcome.