Over the years of living in Blighty through long cold winters, I have found that two kinds of weather situation dominate:
A) Wrapped up warm in layers of cashmere, you amble through a frozen scene feeling toasty. The ground crunches underfoot and the air smells fresh, with the odd note of spice and smoke from nearby houses dancing around. As you pass pubs, the golden lights and sound of bonhomie beckons, and you break your stroll for a drink and maybe a pie with a side of roasted veggies. Back outside, the world is darkening, and by the time you reach home it’s pitch black and you settle in for a night of hibernation feeling a little smug about having both filled your lungs with oxygen and stretched your legs.
B) Outside, waiting for something. Probably a bus. Cold is seeping through your clothes, and the odd shiver doesn’t seem to shake it off. It’s not just cold: it feels a bit damp too. Yep, the odd droplet of water landing on your face has steadily increased, and now the fronts of your jeans are gradually changing colour. The seconds pass slowly, agonisingly.
Jo Malone Myrrh & Tonka Cologne Intense obviously can’t act as a parka and ward off the drizzly chill of situation B, nor can it transform itself into a butter cashmere shawl with which to seal ear holes, protecting their depths from the fingers of cold. It’s but a perfume, and can only work it’s magic on one sense.
That said, it is by a country mile the most warming, sumptuous scent that has ever wrapped itself around my body, and the blend of smokiness, spice and – at first – whoosh of powdery warmth make me feel a little closer to situation A in my mind, even if my nose and toes are beginning to go numb, as so often they do.
Give it a whirl if you like the idea of sitting by a crackling fire, hot toddy in hand, under piles of blankets, eating dark chocolate and if scenario A is your thing, and if B conversely fills you with horror. One word of warning: be prepared to field questions about it when you wear it. It’s that kind of cologne.