In a Medina alley no wider than your shoulders, third-generation attar masters blend magic. Their glass-stoppered bottles hold the soul of Morocco: rose petals from the Dades Valley, amber resin that once lined pharaohs’ tombs, and a particular wild lavender that only grows near Chefchaouen. The real artistry happens in back rooms where bespoke fragrances are crafted—a drop of citrus for newlyweds, cedar oil for businessmen seeking luck. One blind perfumer can identify any essence by scent alone; his father created Jackie Kennedy’s signature blend. The walls here still bear the chalk marks of 1940s French perfumers who came seeking rare musks.
