Autumn Perfume Rituals – Bois de Jasmin

My Favorite Autumn Fragrances (Ukrainian)

Lately, I’ve been finding it difficult to sleep. The news from Ukraine is overwhelming, and it’s painful to experience this war from the outside, knowing that my family and friends are living through it every day. For now, my obligations keep me here, and I have to find ways to keep myself going.

Perfume has always been a source of joy for me, but in recent weeks I’ve leaned on it even more consciously. Ever since studying the effects of scents on mood and cognition, I’ve noticed how much a small ritual can change the texture of a day. Choosing a perfume, putting it on slowly, pausing to inhale it—it may take only seconds, but done with intention, it becomes a grounding act. In autumn, when the days grow shorter and the light fades too quickly, these moments are especially precious.

One of the rituals I enjoy is consciously selecting my perfume in the morning. Instead of grabbing the nearest bottle, I give myself a few minutes to think about what I might need that day. Do I want something bright and energizing, like Hermès Vétiver Tonka? Or do I long for something enveloping, like Comme des Garçons Avignon or Chanel Bois des Iles? The simple act of making a choice—and then honoring it—makes the fragrance feel more potent, as if it carries my intention into the world.

I also like to tuck a small vial or sample into my bag. It feels like carrying a secret talisman. At some point during the day, I take a moment to refresh myself, and that little gesture shifts my mood. For those who can’t wear perfume at work, this is also a way to have a private collection at hand. A vial of something beloved can become a touchstone—just a discreet dab on the wrist or even lifting the cap for a sniff can be enough.

Another ritual is incense. I particularly love Japanese incense, with its subtle, meditative presence. A single stick of Shoyeido’s incense changes the atmosphere of a room without overwhelming it. Lighting incense in the evening is not just about scent—it’s about marking time, creating a space for reflection, and allowing the imagination to wander. For me, it’s an invitation to pause, to daydream, to create a cocoon of beauty when the outside world feels too heavy.

My current favorite is Ominaeshi by Kogadō, a blend of chamomile and agarwood, that smells soft and gentle. Although it’s fully in the spirit of Japanese incense, a herbal touch gives it a comforting, familiar–and autumnal–twist. I buy Kogadō from my favorite tea store in Europe, Io.

As the air turns drier, I return to layering perfume with body creams or oils. This is practical, because fragrance lasts longer on moisturized skin, but it’s also sensual. Applying a scented lotion, and then finishing with a spray of perfume, adds depth and richness. I think of it as creating a harmony—top and base notes working together.

Then there is the pleasure of scenting fabrics. Scarves, shawls, even the edges of sweaters capture perfume in a special way. A drop of Guerlain Shalimar on a wool scarf will still be there days later, greeting you like an old friend when you wrap it around your shoulders. Even bed linens can be lightly perfumed, turning a night’s sleep into something more comforting.

I also enjoy pairing tea and perfume. On cool autumn mornings, a cup of smoky lapsang souchong goes beautifully with leather fragrances like Knize Ten or Guerlain Cuir Intense. Osmanthus tea calls for perfumes that echo its apricot and suede facets. Spiced chai pairs delightfully with ambers—Yves Saint Laurent Opium or Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan. This is a playful practice, but it’s also a way of heightening awareness of the parallels between taste and smell.

Finally, I turn to a perfume for evening wind-down. Just before bed, when sleep feels elusive, I find that a drop of lavender water, a touch of iris cologne like Prada Infusion d’Iris, or soft musk like Kiehl’s Original Musk is like a gentle hand on the shoulder. The scent doesn’t have to last all night; it’s more about setting a tone of calm and reminding the body that it can let go. Even if sleep doesn’t come easily, the ritual itself provides comfort.

Perfume cannot change the world, but it can change how we experience it. These small autumn rituals remind me to pause, breathe, and reimagine beauty even in difficult times. They are modest gestures, but they create spaces of resilience.

What fragrance says ‘autumn’ to you? Do you have your own perfume rituals as the season begins? Also, are you interested to hear more about Japanese incense?