How to read a perfume

A perfume is read the way a piece of music is heard: not all at once, but in the order the notes choose to arrive.

The first minutes belong to the top notes. Citrus, aromatic herbs, anything bright and volatile. They are the handshake, and like a handshake they are over quickly — fifteen minutes, sometimes less. Judging a perfume here is the most common mistake there is.

Then the heart opens. This is where the flowers live, and where most of a fragrance's character is decided. Rose, jasmine, orange blossom, iris. If a perfume is going to feel like someone rather than something, it happens in this half hour.

Underneath, the base holds everything up. Woods, resins, vanilla, musks. These molecules are heavy and slow, and they are still there hours later, on skin and on fabric. A perfume's base is what people remember about you after you have left the room.

Understanding these three layers changes how you shop. Spray, then wait. Walk around for an hour. What you smell at the end is what you are actually buying — not the burst at the counter that was designed to make you reach for your wallet.

That hour of waiting is the single most useful habit in perfumery, and it costs nothing.