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" A cologne company on the rise, D.S. &amp;amp;amp; Durga, is known for their handcrafted scents, all of which are produced from their studio in Brooklyn, New York. And heading to the borough on a hazy afternoon to visit a perfume apothecary for men, well, you more or less expect Willy Wonka \u2014 indoor fields of grass; tubes and beakers and piping far as the walls will take them; some lemons, probably. And slightly less complicated elevators. Funny thing is, the cologne-production process \u2014 especially for these 19 scents here \u2014 isn&amp;#039;t all that much of a process at all. The studio? More like a 12x12-foot room in a loft-meets-office complex next to a scrap-metal yard. No Oompas, no Loompas, just David (D.S) and Kavi (Durga) Moltz laboring with racks of small ampoules and various jars of herbs until they come up with something that pleases the nose. Inside each of those containers are plant extracts, resins, balsams, oils, absolutes, concretes, scent molecules, and other varying degrees of crazy and delicious smells that the married couple buys while on trips to places like India. Vanilla, lavender, it&amp;#039;s all here, all in different concentrations; learning to combine them requires an eye dropper and years of expertise, not a candy thermometer. When it comes to mainstream cologne production, it&amp;#039;s usually a matter of math: So many molecules of one synthetic are paired with another synthetic. From that comes a predictable (if not pleasing) blend of top notes, heart notes, and base notes. Here, I watched as David tested new formulations for a secret project that involves a major mall retailer, and the process was bafflingly simple. Without giving too much away \u2014 small business, secrets, so on \u2014 David works at a granular level, mixing so many drops of one thing, with a few drops of another thing, maybe adding something else, until he has something that he&amp;#039;s happy with. Once he&amp;#039;s settled on that, a little more with the numbers. Proportions, rather, to figure out how many drops \u2014 or ounces of, say, vetiver \u2014 it takes to fill those few hundred bottles over in the corner there. The nose is the thing, of course. Like a chef can sense the fish needs salt, or citrus, or both, a perfumer needs to know what&amp;#039;s missing. Because after you tinker with the vials, the process gets even simpler: This combination of oils and raw, natural materials mascerates off-site in a large vat of alcohol for two weeks. Which helps the ingredients break down (like red wine, a bit of sediment is always welcome) and all merge into a final fragrance. Then into the large glass jars \u2014 with spouts; there are lots those \u2014 then the smaller ones, which are sold at some of this country&amp;#039;s finest boutiques. No elevators, actually, so I walked down some stairs, smelling better than when I walked up them. And, as with moonshine or beer, amazed that I could actually undertake a project like this on my own. Not that I ever will.  PLUS: A Man&amp;#039;s Guide to Taking Care of Himself (Scent Included) &amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;gt; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/style/a10631/how-to-make-cologne-072811/>