Until six months ago, I was living in a semi-arid, high plains environment and I had forgotten what humidity was like. Returning to the area where I grew up has meant returning to Humidex (humidity rating) values and the cloggy, bilgy pockets of air that wallow around an Eastern city. I don’t sweat very much and personally prefer a little swampiness to the near constant gritty wind I encountered out west, but there is only so much stagnant heat a girl can take. During the muggiest days of our summers, I have noticed that a certain portion of the population in Toronto manage to affect a sort of languid, fanning Southern Belle attitude. Those of you who know me — either through online interaction or in what we now rather charmingly call “real life” — will be able to guess I have no ability or desire to pull such an act off. The Canuck obsession with endless discussions of the weather is a long-standing source of humour in my country, so while I indulge myself occasionally, I mostly try to just slog my way through heat in silence, washing my face three times a day and sleeping with a fan roaring into my ear.
One of the few benefits of the closest days is that the low sillage and lasting power of some of your favourite scents no longer seems like a drawback. When every opened door or sluggish second of breeze means you encounter the smells of both yourself and everyone around you, a linear, gentle and smiling scent seems like common sense and courtesy, rather than lack of imagination. Smelling the many colognes and eau fraîches released each year to the market also makes you realize exactly how difficult it is to make something straightforwardly fresh that still smells good. Listed below are five scents that have stood up to the challenge of a humid subway tunnel without wilting…
For the last couple years, the term “sleeper” has made me think of 
Those obsessed with fragrance are familiar with the particular stare some sales assistants give anyone who displays a suspicious enthusiasm for and knowledge of perfumery. “It is made entirely from organic essential oils,” the sales representative might say, and when you reply: “Even the civet?” there is a look of flustered irritation. If you are a woman, the look implies you have taken too seriously the bothersome duty of pampering and perfuming your flesh. But if you are a man, things are much, much worse — you are unnatural.