From trips to the soda fountain to the back of a station wagon, reminiscence with us of days gone by but never forgotten. A sharp dressed man from NYC, a Brazilian perfumitsa, and a web designer in L.A.; all share scented memories of their fathers in this chapter… “No place to be ending but somewhere to start.”
Whether they wore a suit and tie or overalls they were our heroes. We waited for their return each night, or watched them get ready for a night on the town. Snapshots of their scents …we close our eyes and they are with us, and even a grown man feels very small. The aroma of crisp white shirts, a Cuban cigar, the smell of hay fields and the unforgettable aroma of Old Spice wafts our way. Close your eyes. Daddy’s home
I met with Frederick Bouchardy, the Creative Director of Joya Studio last summer and previewed two parfum extraits, marking the Company’s first entrée into the world of fine fragrances… FvsS: Parfums Composition No. 1 and Composition No. 6.
They were Soldiers, lovers, mentors; mothers, fathers, daughters and sons share their most treasured memories in this evocative edition of Fragrances of our Fathers. A young daughter recalls the safety of being held in her father’s arms and a beardless young boy and his dad “shave” together; scented memories that are indelibly etched into our hearts. The smell of cherry pipe tobacco pervades; scented love letters, the aroma of the ocean, orange blossoms, WintOgreen ‘lifesavers’ and the unmistakable fragrance of Dior’s Eau Sauvage celebrate remarkable men…our dads.
Ms. Zorn has become one of the most reliable artisanal perfumers working and in the Studio Collection, we find her working at a high level, again. In a time where everything seems to be ‘going green’ Liz Zorn creates three exceptional new fragrances.
Walking together on a beach in Southern California or living on a farm in Oklahoma, we honor them. Born in Athens or in Brooklyn, whether it was Aramis or Chanel pour Monsieur or the smell of coconut oil, mango or the “deep scent of rat shit”, the scents of our fathers and their fathers pervade our memories.
