We and our vendors use cookies and similar methods (“Cookies”) to recognize visitors and remember their preferences. We also use Cookies for a variety of purposes, including analytics, to measure marketing effectiveness and to target and measure the effectiveness of ads. You can accept or reject the use of Cookies for individual purposes below. Some vendors process your data on the basis of their legitimate interest - you can object to such processing below. Your preferences will be saved in a cookie named “fides_consent” for a maximum duration of 12 months, as well as in your registered user account if you are logged in. If you previously accepted these methods through our prior banner, then we will use your data for targeting. Your preferences will apply on nytimes.com, as well as our News, Cooking, Games and Audio apps. Your preferences here are unrelated to Apple’s App Tracking Transparency Framework.

Supported by

An obscure perfume worn by the actress Elizabeth Taylor was lost to time. Some passionate fans have given it a new life.

By Iva Dixit

The scene had some of the enchantment of a spell-casting ritual: In a shoe-box-size gallery with hot pink walls in Lower Manhattan, a hushed crowd had assembled around a woman as she was methodically opening an obelisk-shaped box. Those who hadn’t managed to squeeze inside the room were spilling out onto the street into the evening humidity. They watched in fixation as the woman pulled from the box a tall glass flacon containing what looked like a saffron-colored potion.