Jill Kargman’s Signature Scent That Never Fails to Impress

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry to bother you—but, um, can I ask what perfume you’re wearing?”

Not once, not twice, but dozens of times, dudes on the subway have asked me this question. We’ll both be rush hour strap-hangers, my spritzed-wrist exposed in a sea of squished humanity, and my flowery scent will waft over, happy eclipsing multiple commuters’ nostril-tormenting combo of noxious halitosis, B.O., and street-meat lunches. I always answer, “Jo Malone Red Roses,” prompting iPhone memos and, at times, vows to go buy a bottle for their girlfriends. 

When Hannibal Lecter is hiding in Florence, lurking in a famed perfumery, FBI analysts bring evidence to a trio of celebrated “noses,” who harness their olfactory expertise to discern the bespoke layers with various top notes and nuanced combinations. That may sound very chic, but I don’t need some complicated potpourri including ambergris, whatever that is. My philosophy has always been: do a common thing uncommonly well. (Which is why I’d rather eat the most kick-ass grilled cheese rather than a Michelin three-star razor clam with celeriac foam and scallop jizz. Keep it simple.) Jo Malone does rose in its purest, most untouched form, and I can’t get enough of it in perfume version. There’s a reason people say stop and smell the roses: they’re fucking amazing. As the ‘80s Froot Loops cereal mascot Toucan Sam chirps, follow your nose. It always knows.