Since I can remember my Granddad smoked. It was cigarillos for the longest time, but when I was about 10 he moved to the pipe. I remember one of my aunts picking up the cube of pipe tobacco from the end of the kitchen table, saying “Gosh, I love the smell of it.” I remember the corridor of the house, late in the evening, filling with the sweet, earthy, smokey scent.¬†At the determined age of 75, he quit smoking. But my love for that end of the scent spectrum¬†didn’t.

It’s no surprise that my preferred perfumes feature many of these qualities. Darker, more opulent, raw fragrances. Those that say more Dive Bar Diva, than Pretty in Prosecco …

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