Patchouli
If you were a child of the 60’s you might associate the scent of patchouli with free-spirited hippies and boho perfumes to disguise the smokey whiff of your ‘alternative activities’. If you were a child of the 1800’s (which I highly doubt you were) you might associate the scent of patchouli with Indian cashmere shawls where it was used to keep insects away, or funerals where it masked the scent of human decomposition. Now days I think it’s still a bit of a hippie smell but it’s a key addition to many perfumes and prized for its robust earthy notes.
Patchouli, Pogostemon cablin, is a highly fragrant leafy green herb and a member of Lamiaceae - the mint family. It’s native to Southeast Asia including the Phillipines, Sri Lanka, Malaysia and Indonesia. The fresh leaves have a strong scent (similar to most herbs in the mint family) but they are typically dried to intensify the smell for use in incense or to extract the essential oil.
The scientific name comes from ‘pogon’ meaning beard and ‘stemon’ meaning stamen (the boy flower part). So basically it has bearded stamens. Apt. The common name ‘Patchouli’ is derived from the Tamil language ‘patchai’ meaning green and ‘ilai’ meaning leaf. Still apt I guess, if not a tad boring.
It grows to around one meter high with broad soft leaves and pale purple flower spikes (similar to mint flowers) in Autumn. It loves a warm, humid climate in a shady/semi-sunny spot. I don’t find it needs a lot of water, but the more sun, and the hotter it is, the more it wilts. It does have a tendancy to get leggy, and responds well to a cut back, but I only do that once a year once it looks terrible in winter. I am lazy though, there’s no reason you can’t keep tip pruning during growth to keep it bushy - especially during flowering.
I bought one plant many years ago and although it does get scrappy over winter, it always bounces back or re-seeds the next summer, bushing up and spilling (flopping?) over the garden edge. It’s right next to our rubbish bins, which I’d like to say was fully planned to mask the scent of composting lawn clippings in the green bin and dog-poop bags in the red bin, but it was not. It was just a happy coincidence. I can’t say I like the smell enough to crush the leaves and rub it on my skin as a perfume (which you can do) but I don’t mind brushing past it on the (admittedly very few) occasions when I’m on bin duty.
