The Gallery in My Wardrobe

On the fragrances I don't wear but love.

You wouldn't throw away an artwork just because it clashes with your fashion. And yet, we often dismiss perfumes we wouldn't want to wear. Art isn't defined by utility, so why should fragrance be?

I have three types of fragrance in my collection: Public, Private, and Curiosities.

The Public type are those I wear regularly, in a variety of settings. They smell good to the average person, and are extensions of my outfits and mood.

Private fragrances are more personal and unusual, like artwork hanging in a bedroom or study seen only by people close to me.

And the third type, Curiosities, are fragrances I keep for their artistic merit, like sketches in a folio or prints in a coffee table book. Some I wear once or twice a year at most. Others haven't touched my skin in years, though I occasionally revisit them like strange olfactory time capsules.

Curiosities have an important place in my collection because they represent fragrances I appreciate for their artistry but don't necessarily love. Their value isn't judged by how often I wear them, but by the craft behind them – like great works of art. I enjoy the work of Cy Twombly and would probably wear an outfit inspired by his art. Júlia Godoy's swirling, lively compositions of hand-collected natural pigments inspire me, and I'm sure one will end up in my living room someday for guests to see. But works like Francisco Goya's disturbing Black Paintings are things I may deeply admire but would never hang in my home.

It's the same with food and music – not enjoying dark chocolate or heavy metal doesn't mean you can't see their aesthetic appeal. You should be willing to try them at the very least, and respect the fact that others like them.

Because art isn't defined by utility, the art world has galleries where Curiosities can be seen and interpreted. But very few people collect perfume for its artistry alone. And the way I see it, this bias towards wearability stifles the creativity of perfumers. Imagine if galleries could only display in their halls what they could sell in their gift shops. That's where perfumery lives: art constrained by commercial viability.

Like a great artwork, perfume has the power to comfort, seduce, or disturb.

Art isn't judged by whether you'd display it, so why should perfume be?