A celebration of all things 55th street. As it is. As it was. As it could be.
One way, westbound, two miles long, and sixty feet across, 55th Street was born just over 200 years ago, as one of the 141 original streets of Manhattan's famous grid. A ribbon of glass, steel, brick, stone and asphalt that glitters brightly after dark.
An architectural melee, constantly in process of renewal, both gradual and brutally sudden, 55th Street offers everything that those of us who have never visited New York imagine New York must be — a majestic allée of towers in a soaring forest of skyscrapers, composed of penthouses, bustling offices, storied hotels, exclusive stores and restaurants, crowded since forever with monarchs, movie stars and oligarchs of industry not quite of the present.
Places where the Rockefellers mingle with the Kennedys. Or Nat King Cole serenades Marilyn Monroe while Frank Sinatra stands at the bar. Somewhere that men drink Scotch, women wear pearls, the Bordeaux is at least a quarter of a century old, and the lingua franca of both love and luxury is French.
ATTACHE-MOI 55 IS A CELEBRATION OF ALL THINGS 55TH STREET. AS IT IS. AS IT WAS. AS IT COULD BE.
Top: Mandarin, Cardamom, Mirabelle
Heart: Osmanthus, Jasmin and Orris
Dry: Vetiver, Amber, Musks
Perfumer: Patricia Choux
Films above by Erinn Springer.
· Barneys New York "Best of '13: Five New Fragrances We Love"
· Fragrance Foundation Awards 2014 : shortlisted in the Perfume Extraordinaire category
"THIS SCENT MAKES ME THINK OF BEING AT HOME. "
There was a room in the house in Maryland where I grew up. It was located in between the house and the backyard and we would dry off there when we came in from the pool, or when our feet were wet from rain. It had a particular smell — damp and muggy. Maryland has distinct seasons, it ranges from hot and humid in the summer, to snowy and cold in wintertime.
Also, later I used that room as my first studio, when I still lived with my parents. It was really small, more like a closet. It had no windows but there was a door to the outside and when I left it open, the smell from the backyard would float in. The garden wasn’t really big but it was nice and I knew every part of it.
All the trees —some pines, but deciduous trees too—had been there forever. And this perfume here reminds me more of the latter. There were also flowers and bushes …
I remember spending a lot of time at home. The area where we lived is very suburban, very different from New York. You can’t walk to the store; you don’t see anybody in the street. So as a kid you just stay home. My parents both worked a lot and weren’t at the house most of the time. My mother did wear perfume, though. I can still see her getting dressed and going off to work. So her smell would leave with her when she left the house but then linger a while.
To me, this perfume is more linked to a place than to a person. There’s something very intimate about it, like a space someone else has been occupying. I could imagine that if a stranger fell asleep I would be able to smell him like this while he was sleeping. It smells warm.
I see a hazy light, like the sun falling through trees or into a smoky room. This scent doesn’t smell really smoky or heavy by itself but there is substance to it. It has a weight like a yellowish color within a shadow. Or like when you see smoke caught in the light and can see the volume of it.