There's a scent out there which is recognisably New York. It's the Big Apple's pheromone.

I'm not a bloodhound and I don't have the nasal super sensitivity of a master perfumer, and this all means I can't adequately say what this scent is. Nevertheless, I know it's like a modern 21st century family - it's a blend.

There's an aroma of very recently polished wooden parquet floors in there; fabric conditioner curling up and out of a thousand basement laundry rooms; a door to a pizza takeout opens and a skein of garlic drifts out, strong, pungent, alluring; it's the salty tang of the pretzel cart at 52nd and Madison; the headiness of hot coffee and cinnamon; that truly undefinable smell of an antique carpet in a quiet apartment where the only noise is muted traffic.

Put me in a sensory deprivation tank where the only sense I'm allowed is to smell, release the valve on the olfactory tank, and I'll tell you in a less time than the legendary New York moment exactly where I am.

Bottle this all and call it what exactly? Eau de Apple? Manhattan mystere? Sixth avenue shimmer?