JOE FOSTER

FROM THE TOWER AT CASTLE SILVANUS

I write this from the room where the perfume is made, a few floors above the courtyard of Castle Silvanus, with the whole of the Kingdom of Tauron spread out under the window. The forest stands against the eastern wall, dark and older than the stones. Below, there is kitchen smoke, the road that comes up from the town, and the market square where the traders arrive before the sun.

The old god keeps the boundary. I work just inside it, among bottles.

Every scent here begins as a memory of somewhere. Grass drying in the Karoo. Cedar shavings on a workshop floor. Rain held in the forest canopy. I build those places by hand, note by note, at the long table, until the air in this room reads like the place itself.

Then I stop, and the blend goes into the dark. Three to four weeks in sealed glass. No light, no hurry, no one opening the bottle to check. What comes out has settled into itself, and only then is it carried down the stairs.

A small number of each edition ever leaves the castle. The old god is particular about what passes the gate, and so am I. There are no pallets here, no thousand-litre vats, no warehouse. There is a table, a window, and however many bottles the season allows.

Silvanus is made in Knysna, at the edge of the forest that gave it the name. Every bottle is numbered, because each one was made individually, and because a person rather than a process decided when it was ready.

You are not taking a fragrance off a shelf. You are taking home a piece of the kingdom: a road, a room, a morning. Wear it, and the gate opens behind you.

Joe Foster, Perfumer Castle Silvanus, Kingdom of Tauron