Bond No. 9 New York: smells like home

[image]When I think of New York, I think of how it looks, how it sounds, and how it smells. I think that that last sense is the most important, as it seems to remain the same through constant change. In the 10 years since I have lived in New York City, Times Square and SoHo have become shopping malls and people actually *want* to live in Brooklyn (correction: White people want to live in Brooklyn), but the city still smells like urine (the subway) and incense (Astor Place) and fried things (Chinatown and Flushing).

So it was with real interest that I stumbled upon Bond No. 9 New York, a line of fragrances dedicated to the city. According to the perfumer’s statment on, “each fragrance represents a specific downtown, midtown, or uptown locale or a citywide sensibility.” So while Park Avenue is a crisp blend of chamomile, paperwhite, vanilla (which sounds pretty white, literally and figuratively), So New York captures the city’s energy with mirabelle, espresso, and cocoa powder. I speak only of the women’s fragrances, but there is a men’s line as well. All can be purchased on-line at, and at Saks Fifth Avenue everywhere else. I sampled these fragrances during a quick trip to my local Saks Fifth Avenue earlier this year, and they smelled wonderful.

In the October issue of Vanity Fair, Bond No. 9’s founder, Laurice Rahmé, promises not to release a Meatpacking District scent anytime soon. Thank you for that.

Being in Chicago, any mention of something cool and New York-related makes me: a) homesick, and b) jealous. While I don’t think there are any plans on Bond No. 9’s part to release fragrances devoted to other cities, it begs the following questions: if you could make a perfume named after and devoted to your city of choice, what would be it be called and what would it smell like?


~ by Jasmine on September 20, 2004.

2 Responses to “Bond No. 9 New York: smells like home”

  1. Hong Kong… Eau d’ Dim Sum.

  2. I think Eau de Wicker Park would be composed from the scents of indie boy bedroom funk (which itself would consist of the essences of flat Iron City beer, Murray’s Pomade, dried blood, and the odd $100 bill slipped from suburban matron mothers), cement, sausage, vinyl.

    My friend Stef, a perfume connoisseur, said: “[L]lincoln park would be mint and lemongrass; wrigleyville maybe plumeria and mango; lincoln square would be sandalwood; the west side would be tobacco and vanilla.”

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