My secret to making men chase me down the street: As a …

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I’m germy, at that stage of being ill when – even at 54 – I yearn to be wrapped in a blanket by my parents. Alas, they are long gone. However, I know how to conjure their presence, and that is via scent. My mother was a huge lover of perfume, my father a great giver of it. With five children, money was tight. Still, to mark high days and holidays, there was always scent.

The first grown–up flacon I was presented with was Houbigant’s dreamy 1912 bouquet Quelques Fleurs, for Christmas aged eight (£75 for 30ml eau de parfum (EDP), libertylondon.com). Saint Laurent’s frosty floral Rive Gauche (£97 for 100ml eau de toilette (EDT), johnlewis.com) marked my 11+; Carven’s powdery green Ma Griffe (‘My Claw’) (£76.06 for 100ml EDP, my–origines.com) my place at Oxford.

While a vast flacon of No 5 (now £62.40 for 35ml EDP, boots.com) and a box of cigars were despatched for my first-year exams; Guerlain soaps scenting my rucksack while train-hopping about Europe.

Guerlain and Chanel were our family perfumers – remaining my scented pillars. This year marks the 100th anniversary of Jacques Guerlain’s immortal Shalimar (from £75 for 30ml EDP, guerlain.com) that shimmering vanilla that smells somehow bronzed. Shalimar was the first of what the industry used to call ‘oriental’ perfumes, and now refer to as the ‘amber’ family – sultry, spicy, base-heavy concoctions – in which Guerlain subsequently specialised.

My mother wore Shalimar and Samsara (£33 for 30ml EDT, superdrug.com), Jacques’s grandson Jean-Paul’s 1989 contribution to the genre: that great, throbbing pulse of jasmine and sandalwood. I can’t abide most amber scents – too femme, too flouncy, too foody. However, meeting Shalimar today is to be tearily nostalgic. I can almost smell the powdery iris of my mother’s skin beneath it.

It took me until my mid–30s to find my own personal Guerlain favourite: Derby, created in 1985. An impeccably refined leather chypre (or moss fragrance), it is redolent of carnation, drying down to a base of patchouli and birched leather; my private scented self, the perfect representation of who I would be if I were a perfume. Of course, it’s been discontinued – a corporate crime. I still boast my public aroma: Chanel Sycamore (from £240 for 75ml EDP, chanel.com), a stark, true wood with a beguiling dankness, yet, earthy vetiver heart. However, private me is Missing In Action.

My most successful attempt to fill the void has been the cheapest: Cabochard by Grés (now £9.95 for 30ml EDT, superdrug.com). Another composed leather chypre, it was created in 1959, later reformulated. Some find it a heart–wrenching ghost of its former self. However, there’s enough of the ghost to beguile. Whenever I wear it, everyone swoons. In this spirit, I also sought out Miss Dior originals (£100 for 100ml EDT, boots.com), an aromatic leather from 1947 to rapturous response.

In terms of contemporary substitutes, Penhaligons The World According to Arthur (£220 for 75ml EDP, penhaligons.com) – a velvety incense from 2021 – has the tenderness of Derby. While Ormonde Jayne’s Intensive Montabaco (from £60 for 10ml EDP, ormondejayne.com) of 2013 melds the magnetism of the wonder molecule Iso Super E – as found in Escentric Molecules Molecule 01 – with leather, wood and tobacco to sublimely smoky effect. Men literally chase me down the street to discover what this sorcery can be.

I have also treated myself to a bottle of 2014’s Orange Free State Nothing Intense (£65.95 for 100ml EDP, allbeauty.com). Rien, means ‘nothing’ in French, yet this is everything – incense-rich, potent and profound. I once doused myself in it to attend a Venetian bash, at which it elicited the words: ‘I will worship you as my cult.’

Still, as my parents taught me: a fragrant life comes in many forms. My doctor father viewed aromatherapy as a genuine healer. Accordingly, my shelf boasts phials of Nikura Patchouli Essential Oil (£6.99 for 10ml, amazon.co.uk), just as my bath – like fellow aromatherapy advocate, the King’s – will be filled with Olverum Bath Oil (£46.50 for 125ml, libertylondon.com).

I shower in Messiah & Eve’s birchwood Body Cleanser No 2 (£22 for 300ml, messiahandeve.co.uk); slather my hands with Baylis & Harding’s brilliant, budget Oud, Cedar & Amber Hand Wash (£9 for 500ml, amazon.co.uk); then greet the day with Diptyque’s immortal Feu de Bois Candle (£58, libertylondon.com) burning. Pure medicinal magic.

Seasonal saviours

Race you to it

The Altesse Studio Vitalis Body Brush for Sensitive Skin (£160, thefrenchpharmacy.co) is as bolstering as it is beautiful – just the right intensity to boost circulation without damage. It will last a lifetime, meaning you need never buy exfoliator again. Expensive, for sure, but this means one will use it; to emerge soft and skin fit come spring.

Cosmetic craving

People keep asking about the new, raved-about Victoria Beckham Foundation Drops, a punchy £104 for 30ml. Alas, on me, they’re not great, rapidly turning patchy. Instead, I have fallen for Tirtir’s cult bestseller Mask Fit Red Cushion Foundation (£22, sephora.co.uk) at a fraction of the price. Known as the ‘red egg’, it’s a base in a compact applied with a sponge. One uses so little, yet the impact is vast. In four small swipes it makes my complexion look incredible – like perfect, youthful, radiant, yet real skin. And it lasts (‘mask fit’ meaning sweat and transfer–proof). It comes in 40 shades, with minis from £12.50. After a quarter of a century’s beauty writing, I admit, I’m staggered.