As someone who grew up on a steady stream of fluoride and aspirin, I tend to gravitate toward drugstore answers to all of life’s aches and pains. Yet even in the most mainstream pharmacies, I’m now faced with growing rows of essential oils. They don’t tempt me — but my peers are all in. They gush to me over how the right mixture of rosemary and sandalwood can bestow both clarity of mind and energy. “Hmm,” I say…and then continue to swill a small fortune in lattes throughout the day and reach for a vape pen to shake the hunchback of anxiety I bring home at night.
My aversion to what I think of as “woo-woo lite” stems in part from a feeling that essential oils might just complicate treatment protocols that I already have pretty well worked out (what is a glass of Sancerre if not mood management at its finest?). But part of it is also complete and total befuddlement at how to parse the plethora of plants and oils themselves. So I decide to give myself a full-immersion crash course in essential oils. For seven straight days, I will replace caffeine and cannabinoids with clary sage and chamomile. It’ll be my very own mental cleanse.
My first call is to Amy Galper, cofounder of the New York Institute of Aromatic Studies. “The power of essential oils comes from smelling them,” she says. You need to either sniff the oil in the bottle or place a few drops on your clothes or palms (but nowhere else on bare skin — they’re too potent). A diffuser can work wonders. Next I contact Sara-Chana Silverstein, an aromatherapist and the author of Moodtopia: Tame Your Moods, De-Stress, and Find Balance Using Herbal Remedies, Aromatherapy, and More. There aren’t enough studies on most essential oils for anyone to truly prescribe them for what ails you, but I want to find out exactly which ones could (maybe, possibly) optimize my entire life. “I don’t think essential oils are going to heal like a Prozac, but they will give people the strength to control their moods more,” says Silverstein. She also says I’m overthinking it. “Forget the data. If ylang-ylang, which is usually a sexual stimulant, calms you down, then use that to make the association you need.” I don’t have enough time to intuit my way through scores of essential oils, so Silverstein gives me a rubric: citrus for a.m. alertness, rosemary oil for workday focus, bergamot and clary sage for anytime relaxation, and lavender and chamomile for bedtime chill.
It’ll be my very own mental cleanse.
Day 1: I set up a diffuser at home to wake me with citrus and go to sleep with lavender. I’m a light sleeper, and I’m always tired in the morning. Waking up to the lightest of lemony wafts is energizing (and makes my alarm feel less jarring). At work, I set up a desk-side diffuser and drop in rosemary oil. “Rosemary has been linked with improved cognitive speed and accuracy,” says aromatherapist and neuroscientist Leigh Winters. “It’s the closest thing we have to Harry Potter’s Remembrall.” The scent floating by my keyboard is faint, but I find myself zoning into my work so completely, I’m startled when I’m asked to sign for a package.
Day 3: Before a monthly story-ideas meeting, I put a few drops of rosemary and bergamot (for calmness) on my clothes. Taking my seat, I look around the conference room with new eyes — it’s glass-walled and totally airless. I grow increasingly self-conscious that someone will wonder aloud what — or who — smells like a tapestry shop and am distracted when my turn to pitch comes.
Day 4: Before a night out, I try again, with a dab of jasmine on my dress, recommended for sensuality and confidence. Over drinks, my friend says I smell musty (more specifically, like an old woman’s vagina). My boyfriend doesn’t disagree.
Day 7: I’ve been running my desk-side diffuser nonstop for a week and feeling like I’m on a real inbox-clearing high when I notice a subtle hiss a cubicle over. A coworker has ordered one for himself. We look at each other in wordless understanding before falling back into our zen workflows.
Postscript: Wearing essential oils still hasn’t become second nature, but the experiment has made me realize I’ve been unknowingly using scent as therapy all along. A favorite necklace contains a glass vial of oud, vanilla, sandalwood, and amber that becomes stronger as it warms on my skin throughout the day. It’s grounding, and I seem to catch a whiff of it just when I need it. And it always helps.
A version of this article originally appeared in the October 2018 issue of Allure. For fashion credits, see Shopping Guide. To get your copy, head to newsstands or subscribe now.
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