the romance of lime

As a perfumista, someone who adores scent of all kinds, it was nearly inevitable that I would end up with a favorite citrus scent, the same way I have a favorite floral note (hyacinth, though lilac is an incredibly strong competitor), a favorite incense note (frankincense), a favorite amber contributor (labdanum), a favorite spice (nutmeg), etc etc. In the vast world of citrus flavors, for me lime stands alone among them.

Citruses are difficult to work with in terms of skin application, since the expeller-pressed versions of all of them (including bergamot) have the problem of causing phototoxicity. This means that if you wear citrus oils on your skin that have been expeller-pressed, you run the very real risk of developing sun sensitivities, from allergic rashes to extreme burns. I once developed a nasty rash from sweet orange oil I put in a lotion I used; I knew but had forgotten. My mistake.

Lime can be steam-distilled without causing the phototoxic effects, though, and the steam distillation still remains pretty true to the smell of the original rind. That's the more unique part; distillation usually alters the smell of the product. The chemical composition of lime includes substances such as A-pinene, B-pinene, myrcene, limonene, terpinolene, 1,8-ceneole, linalool, borneol, citral and traces of neral acetate and geranyl acetate. Brought to Europe by Moroccans, the little green fruit that became a mainstay of sailors and pirates then grew ubiquitous in any region with enough sun to support it. It was already a part of South American life, so when the colonials came, different varieties of limes were already there.

None of this backstory truly explains the sheer headiness of lime. Whether key lime, or persian lime, or kaffir lime, or any other regional limeyness that one can come up with, the sweetness and sheer mood-lifting properties of lime, combined with the chypre-esque qualities of this citrus over others, raises it to a nearly romantic status in my perfumer's mind. In its unisex yet sexy quality, lime doesn't strike me as native to Africa - but then again, it doesn't seem native to anywhere. It is a wanderer, a dreamer, a little fruit that would insinuate itself naturally into the cultural consciousness of many places without ever being equated with synthetic cleanliness, like lemon, or weird Hollywood diets, like grapefruit. Lime becomes part of British sailors' lore, part of the magic of ceviche soaked in lime and lemon juice in Peru and Ecuador, part of drinking Cuervo, part of Middle Eastern lime cake recipes, part of Tanzanian food in the form of lime pickles, part of American 7up.

I use lime essential oil all the time in my personal formulas, since my skin seems to love it to pieces. Lime, tea tree, and neroli combined make an extraordinary and lovely-smelling acne treatment, and I use lime as a fresh foil to peppermint and sage in my personal OMGSWEATY depths-of-summer scent, which I call Cloudgazing. It's a distinct tribute to lime that I can wear things that smell of it at any time of year.

Some lovely scents that include lime notes:

-Montale Aoud Lime
-Jo Malone Lime Basil Mandarin
-Jo Malone French Lime Blossom
-Ambra di Venezia
-Creed Virgin Island Water
-BBW Coconut Lime Verbena
-Burberry Brit
-OJ Isfarkand
-Malin+Goetz Lime Tonic
-Slatkin Persian Lime Blossom & Mimosa

What is your favorite citrus note?