Pilgrimage in 5 Scents

By TUNA, fragrance content creator - October 6, 2026

Follow Tuna: TT @ttunasmells and IG @ttunasmells

My name is Tuna. I am an indie perfume content creator and an archaeologist – or was an archaeologist; it has been a year since I left the field.

The ability to smell is one of the ancient evolutionary traits Homo Sapiens held on to. The ability to smell is a privilege, a privilege that some do not have.

We often acknowledge the ties between smell and memory, between smell and emotion, but for those who are able, smell shapes our decision-making at micro and macro scales.

Kissing, for example, likely became a human behavior, not out of love or sex, but as a way to judge another’s health – if the biome of the mouth was disrupted in any way, the kisser would know by the taste and, thus, smell of the other’s mouth.

This still tracks. If you were about to sleep with the hottest person you have ever touched, but their smell did
not jive with your smell and their breath was rank, that would be a dealbreaker – I guess I can’t speak for
you, at least it would be for me, I’d be outie lickety-split. I digress.

Lately, I have been stuck on the theme of pilgrimage. Because of my love of smell and by extension perfume, I have been thinking a lot about the ties between pilgrimage and smell. The specific pilgrimage that led me down this path is one that I began researching for a new project: part of the pilgrimage of San Francisco, Saint Francis of Assisi, from Assisi to Gubbio (both cities located in Umbria, Italy), which ended in him taming a wolf that was terrorizing the city – eating children, yadda yadda, you know how the story goes.

Today, our association of pilgrimage is usually related to the religious sphere. This association can be traced back to the 12th century CE (common era). However, if we trace it all the way back—well, perhaps not all the way—the root of the word pilgrimage comes to us (first through French,, then) from the Latin peregrinus: a foreigner, a stranger. (Peregrinus is used in Latin specifically as an administrative term, but for our purposes, that’s neither here nor there.) Pilgrimages are always defined as such in retrospect.

The first pilgrim(s) are rarely aware that they are, in fact, making a pilgrimage. Did Francis know that he was embarking on a pilgrimage when he walked from Assisi to Gubbio? No. Did he do it to define a path of sainthood that would be walked by devout Catholic and Atheist pilgrims alike for centuries after his departure? No. (Seriously, you too can embark on the pilgrimage of Francis.)

I am interested in the liminal spaces of pilgrimage. The space between the stranger in the land on which they walk and the
pilgrim. The space of contemplation and self-reflection in unfamiliar landscapes.

Thus, without further ado, here are five perfumes that encompass these themes:

Vanilla Virtu – Paraphrase
Perfumer: Joshua Smith

Notes: cumin, nutmeg, saffron, molasses, bran, tonka bean, vanilla, cedar, incense

Since my journey of pilgrimage began with Saint Francis, it is only right that we begin with a perfume that I feel not only embodies Francis sans Saint (rather, Giovanni di Pietro di Bernardone) but one that embodies the reason he walked.

Francis was the son of a wealthy silk merchant in the 12th century CE, meaning he had rare access to the opulence of the High Middle Ages — luxury goods such as richly colored dyes, silks and furs, spices, oils, resins, hard cheeses, multi-room housing, etc. It was, in fact, this access that led Francis deep into the secular realm. 

Vanilla Virtu encompasses the abundance of Francis’ early life and the weight of his inherited wealth. I am no stranger to spicy, resinous vanillas – one of my
favorite profiles – Vanilla Virtu is the perfume I covet most. An opulent, full-bodied vanilla that radiates warmth, a true magnum opus.

Forest Sounds – Liis
Perfumer: Jérôme Epinette

Notes: yuzu, rain, ozone, green leaves, canopy, vetiver, loam, woods

One may begin a pilgrimage, or journey if they know not that they are a pilgrim, filled with the senses and comfort of familiarity.

Even if the reason for the journey in an unbearable weight. They may find comfort in those first steps, leaving that which they know. They may be caught in the rain on a dirt path, face wet with tears and drops, but they find instant reprieve in the aftermath: the feeling of the sun warming their skin and the smell of it baking the soaked earth.

Forest Sounds is that exact feeling of comfort. The feeling of content after getting caught in the rain in the woods, then being wrapped in dry clothing, skin and hair made softer by the rain, the mineralic smell of dirt still - ever so slightly - clinging on.

Dead Air – Oddity
Perfumer: Mark Buxton

Notes: violet leaf abs., davana, freesia, narcissus abs., lovage, cistus abs., salt accord, dates,
oakwood, opoponax resin, vetiver, patchouli, Atlas cedar

I cannot say I would necessarily wear Dead Air, there is something about it that makes me uncomfortable, which is why it is on this list.

Journeys, pilgrimages, are traditionally uncomfortable, especially when embarking alone. One often must contend with the elements, with creepy crawlies big and small, and, perhaps the most challenging aspect, with themselves.

This perfume has a pungent sourness and saltiness that reminds me of body odor that has mixed with the smell of bitter green leaves. A smell that at first is irritating, for me it evokes the feeling of when my body odor smells like that of a
stranger.

There is a feeling of stagnancy in this perfume, of staleness, a feeling of exhaustion and a yearning for comfort. This is an uncomfortable perfume, but bearable, it edges you to give up, to go back, but you push on until the air eventually begins to move ever so slightly and you can once again smell the dry bark of the trees around you and the sweat of deep greens.

The Language of Glaciers – Imaginary Authors
Perfumer: Josh Meyer

Notes: white pine, lilac, cashmere, juniper, forget-me-not, blue bugle, virgin snowfall

A stranger in landscapes unknown... to them. That marked experience of new foliage, new combinations of smells, recognizable and unrecognizable. This is The Language of Glaciers, my favorite from the Imaginary Authors line.

Terpenic, sappy, woody, ozonic; the purple florals in here have a chewy texture, like that of Laffy Taffy. All smells that by themselves are more easily recognizable, but together create
something unknown, something new, something to be considered and remembered.

Missing Feeling – Ephemeral Dyadic
Perfumer: Sinan Saul

Notes: peach, musk, champagne

The end of a journey, the end of a first pilgrimage, captures what Milan Kundera would call the “unbearable lightness of being”; whereas recurring pilgrimages themselves in a way make manifest Nietzche’s eternal recurrence, at least in existential part. 

The purpose of embarking on a journey is often
one that is heavy, a weight that teathers one to the earth, but the completion of that journey leaves one feeling empty and untethered. I imagine Francis, along with all the other first “pilgrims”, experienced this feeling of unbearable lightness; a liminal existence between tied and united.

Missing Feeling represents this feeling. In the opening it dances and sparkles, giving off a feeling of invigoration. The smell of peach skins and a slightly sweetened musk move in as the perfume dries down.

However, there is an edge to the musk that makes this perfume slightly more melancholic, slightly more contemplative than its soft simplicity may at first suggest. Personal, a new skin.