Himalaya

Himalaya pitches itself as mountain air rendered tangible, and for the most part, it succeeds—though this is less Alpine trekking and more après-ski in a Verbier chalet. The opening is a citrus triptych of bergamot, lemon, and mandarin that sprays ice-cold and crystalline, but within minutes, a peculiar gunpowder note emerges like cordite on frozen wind. This is the fragrance's signature oddity: a mineral, almost metallic facet that reads as snow melting on granite rather than any literal smokiness. The heart is where Himalaya finds its stride, as juniper berry and pepper create a crisp, gin-like aromatic backbone that keeps the composition taut even as lavender and nutmeg threaten to soften it. There's jasmine lurking somewhere in the wings, though it never fully steps forward—instead, it lends a subtle roundness that prevents the scent from becoming aggressively spartan.

This is a fragrance for those who want to smell expensively clean without veering into aquatic anonymity. The woody base of cedarwood, sandalwood, and vetiver provides ballast, whilst tonka bean adds just enough warmth to make it wearable rather than austere. It's the olfactory equivalent of a cashmere jumper in dove grey—understated, refined, and reassuringly expensive. Himalaya suits the sort of person who has Diptyque candles in their bathroom and thinks "smart casual" is a legitimate dress code. Wear it to art gallery openings, weekend drives through the Cotswolds, or anywhere you want to project quiet affluence without shouting about it.