A Symphony of Varnish and Resin

Bowmakers opens with a turpentine sharpness that I certainly don't love, but it leaves as quickly as it enters, making way for a hyper-realistic impression of varnished wood. I can almost make out the wood's texture - not through overt dryness, as if cracked and splintered, but because the lacquer has provided a sheen, illuminating the different colours and patterns hidden within the grain.

As the polish dries and the shine dims, the true scent of the wood comes alive. It's dark brown, deeply resinous, and slightly salty. This does not take me to a workshop where raw timber is being carved and sawdust is flying around, but rather to a dimly lit chamber where the finished objects are carefully preserved.

The longer it dries, the richer it becomes, taking on a resinous kind of sweetness that reminds me of the rosin my childhood violin teacher applied to the bow. I imagine maple syrup that has been slowly caramelised and somehow stripped of its sugar, leaving behind only the smoky, toasted wood facet of its character, and then left to harden into a resin.

In my view, this is niche perfumery at its finest - taking an abstract idea and translating it into something so vivid that you can almost feel the craftsmanship beneath your fingertips. It’s a scent I adore in real life, and one that has been beautifully captured in fragrance. I do wish it had a little more oomph though - it lasts 6-7 hours on my skin, but becomes very faint after the first couple of hours.