I’m an eternal beginner both in tennis and to the world of fragrance. I like to spritz and schvitz in equal measure. But I appreciate being included in the sporty thing as long as I’m under no pressure to do the thing.
Instead of paying attention during summer camp lessons, I wondered about our instructors and what was going on in their lives to cause them to take my lack of hustle so personally. I learned quickly that tennis was a hot and sweaty business that required discipline. But I was a dreamer, not a driller. I was prone to sun poisoning and hurt feelings. I was happiest when I was rotated out so I could sit in the shade and lovingly wrap and rewrap my racquet handle with satisfyingly smooth black grip tape.
The other campers were focused and driven; I was romantic and moody. They wanted to play well; I wanted to smell good. I could never be like those people. So why would I want to smell like them?
I’m pleased to report that the luxury tennis-themed scents that have burst onto the fragrance scene in the last few years are ideal for anyone—myself included—who wants to enjoy the sexy spirit of the game without the bother of actually having to play it.
David Moltz, the perfumer and founder of DS.&Durga, assured me that even a couch potato can smell like an ace.
“I am a proud armchair tennis player, golfer, and sailor,” he told me. “I smell like I might know how to do any of those things, but I don't!”
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According to an informal poll, tennis smells like Secret Power Fresh deodorant, orange Gatorade, unventilated gym bag, hot sneaker rubber, a team bus with a broken toilet, under-laundered sports bra, dirt, salt, and fetid hat band.
If verisimilitude is your thing, Demeter’s Fuzzy Balls and Gin & Tonic ($15 for .5 oz purse spray) effectively conjures the terror of a Penn 1 whizzing past your face followed by a bracing solo cup of iced gin and lime. The Soft Lawn by Imaginary Authors ($115 for 50ml) nails a blend of the chemical ozone fizz of a freshly popped can of tennis balls with the brightness of mown grass. It exudes nostalgia for the time of Jay Gatsby and of Evelyn Waugh’s Bright Young Things without the trauma of the Great War.
I’ve always found tennis to be deeply erotic, so it was no surprise that my favorite fragrances were the ones that winked at the, uh, off-court athlete. When you get down to it, we’re watching two (or more) glistening, finely conditioned pinnacles of human performance battle it out for dominance. There are false starts and happy endings as well as grunting, tears, ecstasy, and performance anxiety.
Luckily for me, the divine Crush Balls by DS.&Durga ($280 for 50ML), a humid green and creamy cotton-y confection, smells more like a post-Miami Open roll in Sferra sheets with the hotel tennis pro than of the poly-blend and frustration stench of losing the French Open in straight sets.
I am a woman who prefers to decompose on a pool lounger while on holiday rather than exert herself in any meaningful way. Still, I loved the Vacation brand’s tennis can-shaped candle Ball Boy ($42) created in collaboration with Prince. Lobbing a ball near a lit flame is a fire hazard but the heady mix of hot fuzz, cucumber, and sunscreen makes the candle the perfect gift to the tennis ungifted.
I confess having never been to Italy so I was excited to experiment with all four (!) of Xerjoff’s Torino scents, which were created in partnership with the International Tennis Finals and the city of Turin. Torino21 ($215 for 50ML) sent me into an olfactory haze of citrus trees mixed with what I imagined it would be like to dine in the breakfast room at Hotel Victoria Torino. (Note to Racquet: Please send me there for fact-checking purposes).
In 1987, the Australian poet Clive James demanded that he be brought the sweat of Argentinian tennis icon Gabriela Sabatini, writing “For I know it tastes as pure as Malvern water, Though laced with bright bubbles like the acqua minerale.”
I have no idea what Sabatini’s sweat smells like, but from reading the Fragrantia entry for her eponymous fragrance, I can assume it’s warm woods, tropical fruits, and white flowers. Many years ago, after receiving an A-list seat at the U.S. Open, I watched a shimmering bead of sweat drip from Rafael Nadal’s soaked hairline and travel down his shining collarbone. While writing this story, I tried without success to obtain a sample of Nadal No.1 Les Essences ($2,050 for 30ML). The salty, swoony molecules of Rafael Nadal’s neck sweat will remain a mystery.
Speaking of sweating, I’ve never understood why more perfumers don’t release deodorant versions of their most-loved scents. Perhaps they don’t trust the public to have the right pheromones. Creed's classic Aventus Cologne ($350 for 50ml) boasts many notes including pink peppercorn, vetiver, and birch with a “balsamic base of styrax, birch, musk and tonka.” To me, it smells like a handsome man’s armpit after a long day of doing something that earns him a lot of money, ideally to spend on me.
Looking back, I realize my fear of sporty fragrances was unfounded. While most of them were marketed to young men (and embraced by America’s dads) colognes like Polo Sport, Cool Water by Davidoff, and Nautica Voyage are actually quite unisex. Fragrance expert, author, and fellow sports skeptic Sable Yong described them as “green or marine in between citrus top notes and a herbaceous or pine-y or base notes.” They’re accessible, friendly, and kind of basic.
“They are,” she said, “the golden retrievers of men’s fragrances.”
Lindsay Goldwert is a writer who lives and works in New York City. She smells like has courtside seats at the U.S. Open.
