I first heard of Trygve Harris and her West Village shop, Enfleurage, from a friend who is nearly religious in his devotion to rare aromatics. He spoke of the integrity of her sourcing and the quality of her product in hushed, respectful tones. I visited the store on my next trip to New York, but it wasn’t until my first newsletter arrived that I understood the Harris magic.
“I could pray to this flower. I might pray to this flower! Ok, I did pray to this flower!” she wrote about frangipani oil from a farmer in India. Then I looked at the website: “This is the rawest and most volatile of the oudhs,” she wrote, about Agarwood Hindi Birrin. “He is like a wild young man, completely out of control. […] though he might make you uncomfortable, there is something alluring and seductive about him, even if you feel a little weird about it afterward.” All right then, I thought, this woman is one of us.
I began following Harris’ blog just as her modern enfleurage project in Colombia yielded the world’s first commercially available gardenia oil in seventy years….