What Happens Next?
As an indie perfumer, I get to plot my own course. When I start sketching out a new scent, it is almost always inspired by a material I am fascinated by or an abstract concept, such as “I want something that smells like a warm field in the height of summer,” or even more abstract, “a good hair cut on a sunny day.” Usually, I have somewhere between 5-10 of these various works in progress in various stages of weirdness at a given time. From the time I start a sketch the time it takes for me to consider it done is anywhere between one day and 6 years.
I’ve had a few questions come through lately about what happens after we get feedback from our prelaunch sample set. For those who are interested in more than the wavetops, I want to break it down a bit further. Keep in mind that this is my process and not reflective of an industry standard.
Commercial perfume houses have a very straightforward process for developing a fragrance (for a detailed look, I cannot recommend The Perfect Scent by Chandler Burr highly enough). Indie, niche, and artisan brands, however, are remarkably free to pursue an idea in whatever fashion works for them.
This is especially true for artisan brands, a term that largely describes indie and niche houses owned or led by the perfumer—a rare but growing contingent of fragrance houses. Artisan brands, particularly those unencumbered by investor demands, can approach fragrance creation in wildly different ways, with the method of creation reflecting the culture and ethos of the house as much as the scent itself.
For big brands, corporate rigor is incredibly effective at launching well-received fragrances through a predictable pipeline. But the same guardrails that allow for a steady influx of new scents (often built around the same 20–30 aroma chemicals) don't flex particularly well when it comes to budgets, scarce raw materials, or pushing creative boundaries.
As an indie perfumer, I get to plot my own course. When I start sketching a new scent, it is almost always inspired by either a material I’m fascinated by or an abstract concept, like "I want something that smells like a warm field at the height of summer," or even more abstract, "a good haircut on a sunny day."
Usually I have somewhere between five and ten works in progress, all in various stages of weirdness. From the moment I start a sketch, it might take anywhere from one day to six years before I consider it finished.
When I send out samples for feedback, the set is made up of scents I feel are getting close. Every so often, though, I’ll slip in something that has been making me crazy for a while just to see if the feedback helps me get unstuck. The process of taking any of these scents from that feedback cycle through revisions and finally across the finish line—or, occasionally, into the parking lot—is...extremely non-linear.
Two of the scents proved especially polarizing. 0012, featuring sesame and pear, didn't have much middle ground. People either really liked it or really didn't, and the reasons they gave were so varied that I'm still not entirely sure how to proceed. I now have 7 versions sitting side by side with various aims of "less soapy" "umami?" and "think more texture"...like I said, it only has to make sense to me and I'm happy to note I am working really hard on unlocking this particular scent/texture puzzle.
Then there was 0013, built around an overdose of the woodiest sandalwood oil I have ever come across. It was also generally either a 1 or a 5, with very few scores landing in the middle.
Natural sandalwood is one of those rare heritage materials that I think can inspire a deep resonance in people, even if it might have way too much cumin. There were a lot of genuinely moving comments about this scent...and one very inspired interpretive dance.
Unlike 0012, though, I had a pretty clear sense of how to integrate the feedback into another round of revisions. I balanced some of the earthier spices with more fruit. I left the cumin exactly where it was, but brought it into better harmony with support from perilla leaf, fenugreek, and cardamom.
In spite of how outstandingly delicious all of those materials are, this isn't a gourmand. It is still an unapologetically woody fragrance, radiant with earthy spice and softened with just a touch of peach. It isn't completely finished, but it is very much in the home stretch.
I've already shared that 0014 is coming soon, now under the name Bossa Nova. It ended up needing the fewest adjustments after feedback—a few minor tweaks, but it should feel overwhelmingly familiar to everyone who already loved it.
Another slightly polarizing scent, though with much more middle ground, was 0015: orris, cedar, and seamoss.
I have to admit—I love this scent. I've been wearing some version of it for the last year while it's been in development. I was hoping to find enough joy in the feedback to justify moving it forward, and enough thoughtful critique to help me out of a place where I'd gotten stuck.
Thankfully, I got both. There was some clear enthusiasm, some genuinely helpful feedback, and this one is also getting a final coat of polish. Another batch or two, and I think I'll have it locked in and ready for release.
There are a couple more I want to talk about, but it's getting late and there are tacos in my house.
I promise I'll come back and finish up the details on what you can expect next, what happened to 0011 and 0022, and some of the other things we're working on.
But first, tacos.
