We asked ourselves why, and in so doing participated in an interactive conversation about perfumery that is perhaps Burr’s greatest triumph here.

The scent of wet earth, grass and sea water wafts through Brooklyn Heights, and if you cross the East River into Chinatown, the olfactory mélange intensifies with the scent of dried mushrooms of a million varieties, potpourri, and over ripe litchi fruit, mounded onto street carts and swelling at its spiky little seams.

The effect was mesmerizing. Intoxicating. I didn’t know if it was right for me, but I knew I had to have it, or at the very least, my own version of it.