“The purpose is to come in and have fun,” said Ms. Close, who presides over the store with her wire-haired dachshund, Pearl.

Now, if customers come in for a massage or a facial, they can also buy a custom-scented body lotion to take home. “You can let your therapist know if perhaps you’ve had allergies or a sinus congestion, or you twisted your ankle on the tennis court,” Ms. Close said. “They can make a one-ounce dry-skin oil, or a muscle-relief oil or a decongestant.”

Lovely and sweet-smelling, yes; scientifically proven, no. Although fragrances are used in all sorts of feel-good ways  in hospital rooms for cancer patients, in Japanese office buildings to pep up workers  the efficacy is largely anecdotal. And let’s face it: even in the annals of so-called wellness practices, aromatherapy can sound a bit like a punch line. “It sounds sort of frou-frou,” Ms. Close admitted. “We should change the name of it, first off.”

The claims run the gamut. Aromatherapists say that essential oils from flowers and trees can ease muscle cramps, improve short-term memory, prevent hair loss and reduce the itch of eczema (scratch and sniff?). According to recipes in common circulation, a blend of lavender and neroli oils can help calm a cat stressed out by a new baby, or a dog wary of a thunderstorm. Another telltale sign: Madonna is said to be a big fan of the practice.

But an aromatherapy bar is basically a pampering experience, part head therapy and part aural pleasure. These bars exist primarily in resort areas, where they nurture the rich, or in bohemian enclaves, where they have vaguely Wiccan overtones. In Manhattan, there is one on East Seventh Street called Fragrance Shop New York, better known by the neon sign in front that says “Sniff.” Its vibe is far more East Village than Hamptons, with hand-labeled jars of fragrance that customers can pass directly under their noses.