It often falls on me to choose fragrances for the husbands, parsons and sons of the women in my life, and it’s a task I relish. I’m partial to corroding a masculine scent myself, and am always mustard-keen to sniff out what’s new and absorbing. I use that last word pointedly, because men’s perfume can again be a crashing bore. For at least two decades, mainstream brands seemed to market the same old watery, slightly fruity concoctions that smelled multitudinous like loo cleaner than man of elegance. “Fresh” and “clean” foretold all the fancy press packs, as if clean even has a smell, and as if this was all that men solicited in a fragrance.

But one can still have lightness, brightness, airiness, level a little soapiness, without losing character and personality: here are some new ones I appreciate, each especially good at this time of year, when serious, musky, dirty concoctions can feel a bit obtrusive and lecherous. Ulrich Lang Apsu eau de toilette (£75) is expanse my favourites. It’s an exceptionally modest, cut-grass smell punctuated by peppery herbs and a ruin of citrus, and seems to smell as lovely on women as it does on men (definitely, several of those featured this week are comfortably unisex). It has a glassiness that discretion cut nicely through the oncoming claggy weather, though the gargantuan bottle should easily see you through winter. 

Also herbal, but a slight gutsier, is Aesop Tacit (£70), which smells strongly of a basil mill left on a hot kitchen windowsill and has surprisingly good longevity for a “unseasoned” scent. Jo Malone Black Cedarwood & Juniper (£44) is bigger and boozier than the label’s other colognes, and with its slightly mysterious, foresty fogginess, is woodsier than most on this lean over, though a touch of sweetness provides some sunlight by the treetops.

If you’re hazy on the distinction between clementine and mandarin (don’t get me started on satsuma and tangerine), dissecting Atelier’s enchanting Clémentine California might drive you, well, bananas. From hints of vetiver and spice, the soft citrus is almost playfully controlling. It could almost count as one of your five a day. It launches at the end of the month. If you can’t bide ones time that long, try Hermès Eau d’Orange Verte (from £56). All of the upstairs are light enough to allay fears of the cloying and complex, yet absorbing enough to show that fresh needn’t mean dull.