It’s been a week full of news from various family and friends. Illnesses, a death, a wedding, and a new pet rabbit. While these events have mostly been conveyed to me after the fact and have not affected my life directly, they’ve been cause for reconnecting with some of said family and friends, which has in itself been a positive thing.
It also got me to examine why I seldom succeed in maintaining connections with people in times of stability, when nothing much is going on, which made me realize that many connections were made during times of change to begin with. I used to think that it was easier to make friends in youth simply because we had less responsibility than we did later in life, but it recently occurred to me that it might also be because we were living in a transient period, and that change and an uncertain future were actually catalysts of bonding. It’s harder to form bonds while stagnant.
I shared this idea with my other half, who immediately riposted with the reverse view that the bonding itself was a change and hence commanded more of our attention at the time.
Both angles seem to make sense, whether in synergy or independently of each other.
I’ve been spending a lot of time with Le Labo Santal 33 recently, as I’ve been trying to use up my travel spray of it. This perfume was one of the first that I smelled when I fell down the rabbit hole of perfumery. When I visited New York City in February 2019 on a mission to make my rounds of the niche perfumeries there, one of the smaller Le Labo boutiques was right by my hotel in Midtown, so I went in the first night of my stay and was greeted with, probably, their home scent Santal 26; but I also tried the fine fragrance and left the store convinced that the perfumes were made for layering, because they seemed to have a common musk signature. I since learned that that wasn’t the case, but Santal 33 is forever associated with my initial foray into the wonderful world of perfume.
It wasn’t a mind-blowingly original experience for me, however. Several years before that, I was standing in the checkout line at a Sephora when I spotted a “discovery set” by a brand called Commodity. Curious, I had picked up the reasonably priced set of 15 perfumes on impulse—that was the first time I had ever explored the idea of a perfume library. When I arrived at Book, that turned out to be my favorite of the set, and I distinctly remember wearing it on a hot summer’s day, along with a slightly uncomfortable outfit, to a new business pitch (that the team I was supporting did not win). Book was my first introduction to the now very familiar scent profile featuring sandalwood. (This was before Commodity’s discontinuation and subsequent relaunch under new management.)
Before I learned that it was once the ubiquitous scent of New York, I loved Santal 33 for itself—dry sandalwood, leather, papyrus, and supporting notes of cedar, cardamom, violet, iris, and amber (which I don’t perceive independently). To me, it smelled of sweaty peach and rough suede, along with papyrus—an edgy combination.
During my honeymoon period with Santal 33, a coworker even remarked that she loved it but could never wear it again because she now associated it with me.
I never particularly associated it with myself, as I identify more with the house’s rose-patchouli chypre Ylang 49, and as I started smelling Santal 33 more in random places (several years after its notoriety as “that perfume you smell everywhere”), I became self conscious about smelling like everyone else. Thus my travel spray sat, neglected, on my dresser.
Recently, I decided to use it up and enjoy it while it lasts. I don’t dislike it—it’s still a marvelous perfume—but I no longer feel the same excitement of discovery that I did when I first smelled it. Interestingly, Undina’s Saturday Question this week was about having a “change of heart” toward any perfumes in your collection, and this is the one that came to mind. With its success, I’m also not worried about it disappearing if I decide in the future that I need it in my life after all.
How do you react to change?


Your posts are always full of insights and personal experiences. Regarding change in general, it’s a completely mixed bag. Today, struggling with it. Tomorrow, better, hopefully. In a perfume context, always good to change one’s preferences.
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The chatter in the brain never stops, even when I run out of new perfumes to try for the time being. 😉 Expanding perfume preferences can be rewarding.
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I much prefer stability and don’t seek out change. For me, I think the bonding occurs less when my life is less than optimal. I prefer to stay on my own until the storm passes.
When I fell down the rabbit hole decades ago (I won’t tell you when as that will surely reveal my age) there were no niche brands. As far as change of heart on the perfume front, there isn’t one perfume that comes to mind.
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I also tend to withdraw during challenging times and talk about it only in retrospect, unless I’m seeking some sort of advice or empathy from a specific person. It’s a good thing that your perfume loves have stayed consistent over time!
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Interesting post. I will think more about change aiding bonding.
I haven’t explored Le Labo. It’s one of those houses that is too expensive for me, so I ignore them
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Le Labo’s prices are a bit outrageous, especially when it comes to their “city exclusives.” My (non-exclusive) bottle and travel spray purchases were aided by a group of friends at my pre-pandemic job, pooling together for a generous gift card for a special occasion—a very lovely gesture and a real surprise for me. The house’s output is slow enough that I can at least keep up every year with a visit to one of their locations.
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Great post! I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love stability. That being said, I think I react quite well to change. There’s always a certain discomfort that comes with change, but that’s probably a good thing, and there’s always someone worse off. In terms of perfume, it seems you went straight to the niche world. Or at least that’s what sent you down the rabbit hole. I collected quite a lot of designer perfumes over quite a number of years before I gradually moved on to niche. Things like Dior Homme and Fahrenheit I still hold in high regard. But perhaps sweeter perfumes, such as anything from Hugo Boss or Paco Rabanne, I’m much more inclined to leave in the past.
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Interesting, I hadn’t thought of the angle that there’s always someone worse off, at least temporarily. I did jump into the niche rabbit hole—before that, I had only 1 or 2 perfumes at a time. It’s good that your early perfume loves are still going strong!
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