At first whiff, it’s the Cinnabon at Penn Station: cream cheese frosting and a lot of people at once. The savory funk of life triumphs over the sweet decaying stench of subterranean NYC garbage. As first impressions fade, a subtler aspect reveals itself: Secretions Magnifiques is starkly similar to the smell with which you can ascertain that a carton of cream in the fridge has not yet expired. While sniff-checking the milk is but a brief part of a groggy daybreak ritual, that umami creaminess lingers on your skin all day. You become fresh milk, blended with the metallic dewdrops of perspiration that form immediately after a brisk morning walk under a cold sun.