A summer evening in Grasse, the cradle of perfumery in Provence in the south of France, and as our car bumps along a country road I’m becoming increasingly disoriented.

That way, I figure, is Cannes and the sea. That way, the blue-green Alpes-Maritime mountains. Here, all around us, are the farms whose flowers have been turned into perfumes for centuries. But the actual estate to which we’re heading, that of seventh-generation perfumer-creator Aurélien Guichard, is shrouded in mystery. Not the least because I’m blindfolded.