#72 Tears in Heaven

It was an odd reaction. A spritz of Miller Harris' Jasmine Vert onto the wrist, a deep inhalation, and before I knew it I had tears in my eyes. I was back, in the Mediterranean, the site of so many soil-baked summer holidays with my family, a hand-picked mound of jasmine blossoms cupped between my hands, some in my hair and a small bunch scattered across my pillow... summer for me, will always be linked to the smell of jasmine. Within seconds, I was crying - like a fool, in the middle of the Bruton Street store - and apologising, dashing tears away through a dazed, peaceful smile. Despite that day's rain and the biting wind, for a few seconds in the middle of London, I was back, my toes dipped in my parents' swimming pool, scattering blossoms onto the water. So yes, Jasmine Vert is absolutely a signature scent - significant, evocative and loaded with precious memories.

It was also the last scent I sniffed after an hour-long introduction to the Miller Harris library - to which I am no stranger - that yielded an array of surprises:

L'air de Rien - Jane Birkin's signature scent that was rude, musky, intimate, corporeal and redolent of, in my mind, a long night's lovemaking. Divine - but dangerous.

The exquisite Coeur d'été , created by Lyn Harris during her first pregnancy - a fresh, sunny and enlivening scent that also conjured up whispers of the sea.

Finally, Geranium Bourbon - a confident, colourful, nostril-filling bouquet that tirelessly metamorphoses, all day long. By the evening, it was all damp stems with a hint of dried rose petals.

In a world of overnight stars with their accompanying celeb scents, Miller Harris stand guard over the art of the Parfumer, yes, but they also create magnetic, magical experiences that chime beautifully with modern life. And if it's a toss up between a little-researched bottle of crowd-pleasing notes and a dash through a maze of memorable, challenging accords, I know where I'm headed. For me, it's always been Miller time.

#49 Get Fresh

There are two fantastic scent blogs on the net - http://www.mimifroufrou.com/scentedsalamander/ and http://nowsmellthis.blogharbor.com/. Both have highlighted the dearth of smart scents launching onto the fragrance market and mourned the new, easy, commercially-foolproof direction i.e. FRESH & LIGHT. So, we've got the new Dior Midnight Poison which bears no resemblance to the original ethos in that it's easy to wear and utterly inoffensive. We've also had Gwen's L.A.M.B offering and Kate's KATE - both of which are about as enigmatic as, well, Jordan - and her scent too for that matter. That's not to say that they're not wearable - personally I wouldn't, but it's your nose against mine - just that they're easy, but not in a chino and white shirt sort of way, nay, not in a breezy Sunday morning sort of way, but more in a sugary, foam shrimp sort of way. They're obvious, they're saccharin, they're... too tutti fruity. They're the equivalent of the Rosé wine that everyone and their aunt now seems to be drinking... rather than the smoky reds that will make you FEEL something. So, it's a good thing that Prada are taking the saccharin edge off the season with their Infusion D'Iris - a fat mix of earth, wood and flower that'll knock ten shades of crap out of the competition. Bravo Miuccia-cia-cia.

#30 Passages of time...

As crazy as those fictional Kellogg’s Crunchy Nutters are about their cereal, I am about my body cream. I douse, slather, baste, steep and mask myself in the stuff at least twice a day. I've unearthed some fab finds - the Brown Earth will always be a favourite, but, yes, I've raved on about it enough – but come summer, I’m a rotten changeling - eternally drawn to new scents and textures.

I cannot stress enough the strength that the correct scent has had on my wellbeing. I must have very finely tuned passages as I map out the majority of my life with my nose. I still remember one torrid summer when I’d been advised to try a Brazilian bikini wax and fallen narcissistically in love with my newfound smoothness… as had my new boyfriend. We were abroad and temperatures rose to beyond 40 degrees. We spent hours in cold baths, fingering ice cubes – or pouring chilled water over our poolside bodies.

This summer, we escape to similarly sweaty climes for another week. I am not sure, but I think that perhaps I have found my new companion. The Hei Poa Baume Au Monoi. I scanned the ingredients list and was disappointed to see several ‘ates’ and ‘yls’ – when it comes to bodycare, I strongly believe the shorter the ingredients list, the better – but last night I rubbed a thick layer onto the back of my left arm (I used Liz Earle Nourishing Botanical Body Cream on my right) and compared them in the morning. Hei Poa won by a mile. My skin was silky, soft, back-of-arms bumped reduced and retained the appealing scent. I shall continue to use it for a week without interruption and am interested to see whether or not my skin continues to react so positively – as positively as my husband, who last night held me tightly, inhaled deeply and said that I reminded him of that heated holiday, years ago. His nose had led him back to summer. In a clichéd coconut sense, Hei Poa smells like ‘summer’… yes… and summer, for us both, will always be that single, sweltering season. It might have been London and we had no sea to cool off in, but that scent took us back. Nasal passages indeed.

#15 Message Scent...

I've never succumbed to the idea that a woman should have a signature scent. It seems to be just the sort of thing that is advised by Debrett's, or Coco Chanel, or eccentric ex-Vogue fashion directors who wear the same precious musk every day and leave notes in their wills about getting doused with the stuff before being buried in it. Personally, I can think of nothing worse. How I wish to smell is dictated by one thing only - my mood. Today I was a Chanel No.19 girl. I needed a classic floral with a grown-up twist to counterbalance my girly sundress and topaz heels. Spot on. Yesterday, I wanted to feel sexy and as it was a little black dress night, I went for Jo Malone Pomegranate Noir - a scent that hooked my nose in seconds. On really happy days, when the sun is shining, but it's not too hot, I make a beeline for Miller Harris Fleur du Matin - I've sprayed it so many times that it's absorbed into the towels and tiles of my guest bathroom, for which I always receive compliments. When I want to lift my spirits or if I'm feeling slightly unwell and can't bear to wear a prim perfume, it's the new Aveda Yatra PureFume. It is how you'd expect to smell after a deep, calming Aveda massage. It uses a blend of four essential oils, two of which (rose and sandalwood) are among my favourites and also crop up in the glorious Aromatherapy Associates Rose & Sandalwood Facial Oil - which I've been known to rub on my wrists and neck in place of parfum.

I love them all - and hundreds more - Prada, Vivienne Westwood, Cerruti, several Miller Harris, Nina Ricci, Antonia's Flowers... Each one will smell 'correct' on a different day and not a single one is fitting all of the time. The joy is in deciphering the day's mood and matching it to the scent. The result can be harmonious - or disastrous. I once wore Miller Harris Citron Citron on a very dark day. A bad mood, bad weather, bad hair day. All day long it jarred - it was hitting major, sharp, citrus notes, while I wanted to be left alone to stomp around in the minors. I should have chosen something smoky, something musky or, perhaps, nothing at all. Then, at least, I wouldn't have had a beautiful scent sullied by my shady temper. But, you see, that is what I love about perfume. It requires a decision to be made that will not only have a visceral effect, but will ultimately also reveal a lot about you to the world at large. It's as communicative as a slash of red lipstick, an Amnesty International bumper sticker, a swastika. And the idea that a single bottle of scent could encapsulate my myriad moods or aptly express my everchanging mental state is nothing but ludicrous. Yet, because I've been asked to name my favourite scent so many times (even during a particularly odd job interview), I almost cultivated a fake one. No one would've known. No one but me...

No, for me, a signature would be nothing more than a fughese, a fake - a forgery.

#6 Hot List

Today has been a long day.... this is what I like:

1. If you haven't already seen Shiseido's new collection, make it your next make-up mission. The Hydro-Powder Eyeshadows come in pots perfect for finger dipping and shade H9 (Glistening Sand) is universally flattering.

2. Vivienne Westwood Boudoir Sin Garden. Scent is utterly objective, so there's no point in trying to sell your favourite to anyone else - one woman's signature could be another woman's sewage. Suffice it to say, the new twist on the Boudoir theme comes in a lovely, neat, chunky bottle and I've been wearing it all week.

3. Kiehl's Simply Mahvelous Lip Glosses. They soothe and hydrate, without the usual lip-sticking-to-teeth-and-hair scenario. Goldenberry is an odd name for a bright, cheery red. My favourite.