Holiday skin, festive scent: what I’m really wearing between gravy and glitter

I woke up to sleet and a smug fruitcake, so I answered with resin. I drenched my scarf in Serge Lutens Fille en Aiguilles and suddenly the living room tree had a rival. It is pine needles under heel, candied spice, a whisper of smoke. If your sweater already smells like a sugar cookie candle, balance it with sap and shadow.

By noon, the kitchen was a chaos of oranges poaching in saffron, cinnamon sharpening its elbows in the oven. For that glow, I rotate between two icons of warmth. Maison Margiela Replica By the Fireplace for toasted chestnuts and crackling wood, or DS & Durga Portable Fireplace when I want the ember without the marshmallow. Both make even store brand panettone feel couture.

Holiday afternoons beg for a touch of ritual. If I’m slipping into a wool dress and pretending to be composed, it is Amouage Jubilation 25. Honeyed incense, cedar, a regal hum that makes bad lighting look intentional. Prefer a straight shot of frankincense, no lipstick, no lace. Comme des Garçons Avignon is the quiet cathedrals and stone-cold pews, portable serenity in a bottle.

Night is where memory sticks. If I’m in a red lip and not here to be polite, I reach for Guerlain Shalimar or Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur. Shalimar is the original smoky vanilla, still scandalous if you add pulse-point restraint. Musc Ravageur is cinnamon-tinged skin heat, the unwrapping after the unwrapping.

For gourmand gravity that still reads elegant, try Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille or Xerjoff Naxos. Both are spiced, honeyed, and thick as good gravy, with tobacco leaf keeping the sweetness out of the gift wrap aisle. If you want the room to turn as one, no judgment, go full theater with Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540 or candy-rose charm via Parfums de Marly Delina.

And for the one friend who hates Christmas but loves weather, Tauer L’Air du Désert Marocain is the off-duty holiday I keep for myself. Ambered dryness, balsamic wind, a secret desert inside a crowded house. When the last dish is stacked and the lights are too bright, I read under a blanket with Byredo Bibliothèque, all plum-soft suede and dusted pages.

Wear what makes the room lean in, not back. Perfume is the holiday party guest that always arrives on time, and leaves a coat on your shoulders as it slips out into the cold.