Eau Dear: Sniffing Out the Big Apple's Smelliest Spots

"Since I'm retired, I'm into scented candles," he announces. "They're fairly expensive, and yet they're disappointing."

Lahme is describing how the attacks of 9/11 befouled the air of downtown Manhattan, inspiring her "whiff of the city" idea.

"Unless you were in New York then," Lahme says, "it's hard to describe the smell."

"I recently bought two bunches of eucalyptus branches for my car," Macchio goes on. "I says, 'Perfect under the seat,' but I never put it under the seat; I put it on the front seat, passenger side, but it's drying, the leaves are flaking off, but I haven't had time to clean it because you've got to see my apartment. Every room is having something done to it."

We arrive in the meatpacking district, which has been colonized by trendy nightspots and restaurants. In the morning, though, the few remaining packing plants have the run of the place.

"People ask me why we don't do a perfume for this neighborhood," says Lahme, as we get out of the cab. "It's because we don't want to capture this."

"This" is a lungful of what feels like a toxic cloud of spoiled pork. It's nearly 90 degrees already, and as a couple of warehouse workers toil near huge tubs of meat, which have been placed on the sidewalk, we walk around looking for the most fragrant spot. It's right next to the cab.

Lahme breathes in. "It's fat. It's fat that gets old."

"Rancidity. Is that a word?" Macchio asks. Not for the last time today, he seems unmoved. "It's bad, but there's a lot worse than this. If I might mention maggots."

Back in the car, we head uptown to the southeast corner of Central Park, across the street from the Plaza Hotel. A dozen or so horse-and-carriage drivers wait here for fares every day. Still, this smell is a bit more intense than anything you'd find at a stable.

"Every smell has notes, just like music," says Rahme as we walk past the line of horses. "It can be loud or it can be discreet, it can be showy or subdued. You can put any notes in there that you like."

Lahme clearly isn't accustomed to describing melodies this unpleasant. She seems a little stumped.