Reviving the Aromas
of Greek Antiquity

Been There, Smelled That explores the aromas of places around the world. Travel writer Maggie Downs investigates some of the world’s most potent smells, looks at how odor cultivates a connection to place, and presents how humans engage with smells, from scents that have endured generations to the latest innovations in aroma-making.

My guesthouse in Naxos looked better in the Airbnb listing. In reality, the room was tiny. The beds were thin and dorm-room-like, covered with flat sheets, no blankets. The air smelled slightly mildewy.

But just outside the hotel door was a world transformed. Each morning the sun painted the sky gentle gold and pink, while flowering trees bent like a billowy awning over the slender, cobbled path. As I made my way to the sea, mere steps away, blossom petals stuck to my feet. The perfume of night-blooming jasmine clung to the air. In those early hours, while the surrounding village stirred awake, there was a magic to the quiet, an intimacy with the landscape that felt sacred.

This was my first visit to a Greek island, and I was overcome by the uneasy feeling of suddenly getting everything I ever wanted. Somewhere, skimming along the surface of my subconscious, I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop (although this being Greece, I suppose I was waiting for the other sandal to drop). Instead, I was met with waves of pleasure: jasmine and honey, sea breezes and sunrises.

On one of my first nights, I dined at a taverna nestled in the sand along the beach. Just when I thought I couldn’t eat another bite, the owner brought out a bowl of fresh watermelon, urging me to eat, eat, and of course I complied. The sweet, sticky scent lingered on me for hours. I was ravenous for Greece, and in return Greece fed me.

Out of all the Cyclades, I ended up on Naxos by a process of elimination. As a general rule, I don’t travel anywhere mentioned in a Fleet Foxes song, so Mykonos was out. And while Santorini sure appeared lovely on screensavers, it seemed more like the domain of honeymooners and cruise ship passengers. I was neither. Naxos, though, instantly fit. It was the place that had lived in the corners of my imagination since I was a child.

One morning, I climbed the rocky spine of Mt. Zas, the highest peak in the Cyclades. Legend has it that Zeus himself was raised in a cave at the mountain’s base; during the toughest stretches of the climb, it was his name I took in vain. But the effort was worth every step. From the summit, the island unfolded beneath me—a mosaic of green slopes, pale roads, and the glimmering expanse of the Aegean Sea.

Another day, I sat for a while on sun-warmed marble at the Temple of Demeter, built for the goddess of agriculture, harvest, and fertility. The Ionic columns loomed tall and stately, framed by olive groves, tidy rows of grape vines, and hillsides brimming with fruit-bearing trees. The Meltemi wind, ever-present and untamed, infused the air with the scents of Greece—earthy, herbal, and floral. I imagined these were the smells that once filled the temples, the fragrances the gods themselves might have known.

I’m not the first to wonder about the sensory experience of ancient Greece. Back in 2017, the National Archaeological Museum of Greece embarked on a journey to revive the scents of antiquity. Working with the Greek cosmetics brand Korres, they delved into the universe of experimental archaeology, piecing together fragments of information from Linear B tablets used during the Mycenaean Period. These ancient records, once used for keeping track of palace perfumeries, provided the clues needed to resurrect the perfumes of the gods.

The first scent to be revived was the Rose of Aphrodite, inspired by the goddess of love and beauty. Crafted with the same ingredients and methods as the ancient perfumers, this fragrance was presented in the museum’s exhibition “The Countless Aspects of Beauty.” Alongside sensuous clay and marble figures of Aphrodite, the scent offered visitors an olfactory connection to the past, an experience that brought the ancient world to life in an unexpected and powerful way.

As the project continued, the Korres lab explored more ancient recipes, drawing from the works of Dioskourides, Theofrastos, and later studies. Wild olive oil from Crete, aromatic cyperus from Amorgos island, coriander fruit, and sage leaves were meticulously combined using ancient techniques. The result was a series of primordial fragrances—Rose, Coriander, and Sage—that linked the magic of the ancient world into today.

I never had the chance to visit that exhibition; it ended before I made my way to Greece. But I did one better—I experienced Naxos with all of me. As I wandered the island, savoring the lush blooms, the rosemary-scented paths, and the gift of watermelon, this wasn’t only a journey to a place. It was a passageway to another time, a vivid reminder of the deep, sensory connection we share with the past.