I am a runner at dawn, a policy analyst by day, and a fragrance enthusiast somewhere in between. I am also a pharmacist, with some exposure to analytical and organic chemistry, which gave me a lasting appreciation for scent as something both sensory and structured. I never pursued perfumery professionally; I simply stayed curious about the way a fragrance can hold both form and feeling. Away from work I keep active through sport, and I am equally drawn to slower pleasures: short stories, poems, and history, and the small things that carry meaning.

My relationship with fragrance is still relatively young, but it has already become one of the most meaningful journeys in my life. Before, it was more of a companion than a subject of curiosity, something I wore to complete a look but had not yet learned to listen to. It began with local brands at fragrance exhibitions, then slowly expanded into Middle Eastern perfumes, designer scents, and niche houses.

Somewhere along the way I found artisan houses, and with them a deeper kind of love. HoM Haute is one of those houses for me: each release feels like a memory, carefully preserved and then gently set free again. Lately I find myself drawn to classic fougère and chypre compositions, scents that carry a certain timelessness even as they become harder to find.

For me it is vetiver. To some it can feel heavy or bitter, earthy in a way that seems uncompromising, but to me it feels quietly familiar. Vetiver has many faces, nutty, dirty, spicy, aromatic, clean, even a little sweet, and that versatility is part of what makes it so compelling. Like a diplomat, it can collaborate with almost anything, giving a fragrance more shape, more depth, and a kind of understated elegance.

On a more personal level, vetiver takes me back to childhood. Before school there was always our regular mbok jamu, and my mother would buy me a glass to drink in the morning. The herbal character of vetiver reminds me of that jamu, and of my mother, of ordinary mornings that were simple, warm, and quietly lasting.

These days I am drawn to classic and modern-classic fragrances, especially fougère and chypre compositions for the office. There is something about their structure and elegance that feels right for working days: composed, confident, never overly loud. I reach for scents like Lauder for Men, Monsieur Rochas, Vetiver de Guerlain, and HoM Haute's I Have No Enemies and Chypre Kabuto.

For sport I choose something fresher, but still with a touch of spice. And as the day winds down I reach for something softer and more calming, often a floral like HoM Haute's Ballad of the Beloved. I think I am drawn to fragrances that move with the rhythm of the day: disciplined in one moment, active in another, and gently quiet at the end.

My ritual is simple: I allow myself one snooze in the morning, then take a few long breaths before the second alarm truly gets me up. It gives me a brief, gentle pause before the day begins, just enough to gather myself for the run, the shower, and everything that follows.

For me, good taste begins with trust: trusting your own nose, your own memory, and your own sense of feeling. Every nose matters, because every memory is valid. Taste, at its best, is not about following what is expected, but about listening closely to what truly moves you. Good taste is the one that feels honest.

Here and now is everything, and the rest is illusion. It is a reminder to stay present, to pay attention to what is real in front of us, rather than becoming too attached to what has passed or what may never arrive. And yet fragrance has a beautiful way of bringing the past back to life. Perhaps it is enough to live fully in the present, while letting a scent awaken memory.