I did a nose-drag. It was emotion-seizing: the complex, expensive scent of a civilized man. A well-shaved European — wet pine, fire, cold Sauternes. I could almost taste the clean leather and tweed. It hit with a resonant pang, right below the belt into unfair, instant, knuckle-biting yearning.

— Columnist Cintra Wilson of the New York Times smells Histoires de Parfums 1828 (Jules Verne) in It Is Divine to Treat Yourself.