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People assume fragrance is made by spraying ingredients into a vat and stirring. It’s not. The process from raw materials to a finished bottle takes weeks of testing, refinement, and patience. Here’s how we do it.

1. Concept (week 1)

Every fragrance starts as a written brief. Three sentences, sometimes less. We describe what the scent should evoke, what season it should belong to, what kind of moment it should sit inside. The brief gets pinned to the wall. We don’t open the perfumer’s organ until it’s clear.

2. Raw materials

We work with around 200 raw materials — natural essential oils, absolutes, isolates, and synthetic aroma chemicals. Each is sourced from a supplier we’ve vetted: Calabrian bergamot from Reggio, Haitian vetiver, Indian sandalwood (sustainably plantation-grown, not wild), Bulgarian rose absolute, and roughly 180 others. Every shipment comes with a Certificate of Analysis showing purity and origin.

3. Initial blending (weeks 2-3)

The first blend is a guess. A perfumer takes the brief, picks 8-15 raw materials that might work, and creates a 10ml batch — drops measured by precision pipette into a graduated cylinder. We let it sit overnight to harmonize, then smell it on a card and on skin.

Almost no first blend is correct. The first version of Dusk Vetiver was too smoky. The first Memphis Magnolia was too sweet. We adjust ratios, swap one material for another, and blend again. By the end of week three, we usually have 8-12 versions of the same fragrance lined up on the bench.

4. Refinement (weeks 4-5)

We taste-test the versions. Some get eliminated immediately. Two or three usually survive into a head-to-head. We wear those for several days each, in different lighting, different temperatures, after exercise, after a meal. A fragrance that smells perfect at 10am can collapse at 7pm. We pay attention to that.

By the end of week five, we sign off on a single version.

5. Maceration (weeks 6-8)

Before the chosen formula is bottled, it sits in a sealed dark glass container for at least four weeks. This is called maceration, and it matters. Aromatic molecules need time to settle into one another. A fragrance fresh off the bench is almost always sharper than the same fragrance four weeks later. Patience is part of the recipe.

6. Quality control + IFRA review

Every batch is tested for stability (does it discolor? does it separate?), scent profile (does this batch match the previous batch?), and safety (does it comply with IFRA’s restrictions on ingredient concentrations?). The Certificate of Analysis and IFRA documentation are filed before any unit ships.

7. Filling and labeling

Bottles are filled at our Memphis warehouse, by hand, in batches of 50-200. Each bottle is labeled, boxed, and numbered. We retain at least one finished sample from every batch, in case we ever need to retest.

The whole process

Start to finish, a new fragrance takes us 8-12 weeks before the first bottle ships. That’s slower than it has to be. It’s how we want to do it.

If you’ve worn fragrance for any length of time, you’ve worn bergamot. It’s in classic colognes from the 1700s. It’s in Earl Grey tea. It’s in roughly half the fine fragrance produced today. And almost all of it comes from a single stretch of coastline in southern Italy.

What it is

Bergamot is a small, pear-shaped citrus fruit, about the size of an orange. It looks like a yellow-green lemon and grows on a thorny tree (Citrus bergamia). The fruit itself is too bitter to eat — it’s grown almost entirely for the essential oil pressed from its peel.

The peel oil is what we use in fragrance. It’s a bright, complex molecule with notes of fresh citrus, light floral, and a subtle herbal edge. It’s the most chemically nuanced citrus oil in perfumery.

Why Calabria

Bergamot grows in many climates but only a tiny region of Italy — the Reggio Calabria province at the toe of the Italian boot — produces fragrance-grade oil at meaningful volume. The combination of soil, altitude, sea proximity, and a temperature range that doesn’t exist anywhere else gives Calabrian bergamot a quality that other origins can’t match.

Producers in Brazil, Ivory Coast, and Argentina grow bergamot, but the oil tends to be sharper and less rounded. For perfumery, Calabria remains the gold standard.

What it does in a fragrance

Bergamot is almost always a top note. It’s the first thing you smell when you spray a fragrance, and it usually fades within the first 15-20 minutes. But its job in those first minutes is huge:

• It opens the fragrance — gives it brightness and lift
• It bridges to the heart notes — its complexity helps florals and herbs feel more dimensional
• It stops a heavy fragrance from feeling oppressive

Take any deep, smoky, or oriental fragrance and remove the bergamot — what’s left will feel one-dimensional. That small bright opening is what makes the rest of the composition land.

How we use it

In Dusk Vetiver, bergamot is the only thing keeping a smoky vetiver-and-amber composition from feeling like a winter fragrance. We use about 6% bergamot oil by volume — a meaningful amount, by perfume standards. It opens the bottle, hands you to the heart notes within fifteen minutes, and gracefully exits.

In Memphis Magnolia, bergamot bridges to the floral heart, lifting the magnolia so it doesn’t feel sticky.

In High Ridge Cedar, it’s a quieter presence — just enough to keep the cedarwood from going too austere.

The takeaway

If you’ve ever wondered why so many fragrances open similarly, even when they end up in completely different places — that’s bergamot. It’s the universal handshake of perfumery. Once you can identify it, you’ll start hearing it in almost everything.

Every fragrance has an origin story. Most are made up after the fact, retrofitted from a marketing brief. Ours actually has one.

In October 2024, I was sitting on a back porch in midtown Memphis. It was the kind of fall evening where the air finally lets go of summer — cool but not cold, dry leaves nearby, the smell of someone burning brush a few houses down. Bourbon in a heavy glass. A leather chair that had absorbed a decade of dinners.

I wanted a fragrance that smelled like that.

The brief

I wrote it on the back of an envelope: Smoky vetiver. Bergamot up top — just enough to keep it from going dark. A little amber at the base. Should feel like 7pm in October, not noon in July.

That envelope sat on my desk for three weeks before I started blending.

The build

We started with the base — Haitian vetiver, the smoky kind, distilled from grass roots that have been steeped in iron-rich soil for two years. Vetiver is the spine of this fragrance. It’s also the most expensive ingredient in the bottle.

From there: a small amount of guaiac wood for warmth, a touch of labdanum for resin, and a whisper of birch tar to push the smokiness without making it heavy-handed. The heart is sage and clary sage — herbal, dry, earthy. They sit between the smoke and the citrus and keep the whole thing from collapsing into one register.

The top is bergamot — specifically Calabrian bergamot from a supplier in Reggio. It’s brighter and a touch greener than what you’ll find in most commercial fragrance. It opens the bottle. Without it, Dusk Vetiver would feel like winter. With it, you can wear it in September.

The testing

We made eleven versions before we signed off. The first three were too smoky — like sitting downwind of a leaf fire. The next three were too clean — we’d leaned too hard on the bergamot and lost the chair-on-a-porch quality. Versions seven and eight got close. Version eleven was the one.

We aged the eleventh batch for six weeks before re-testing. Fragrance changes as it macerates — the molecules settle and the harsher edges round off. Version eleven, week six, was the bottle we sent for IFRA compliance review.

What it’s for

Dusk Vetiver isn’t a daytime fragrance, exactly. It’s not an evening fragrance, either. It’s a fragrance for the in-between hours — the part of the day when the light is changing and you’ve earned the right to slow down.

That’s the scent we wanted to bottle. That’s the scent that’s in the bottle.

The first time someone tells you about top, heart, and base notes, it sounds like marketing language. It isn’t. It’s chemistry.

Fragrance is a blend of dozens of aromatic molecules, each with a different size, weight, and volatility. Lighter molecules evaporate first. Heavier ones stick around. The story of a fragrance — from the first spray to the last whisper at midnight — is just the order in which those molecules are leaving your skin.

Top notes (0–15 minutes)

The opening. Bright, sharp, immediate. These are the small, light molecules that flash off first. Citrus is the classic top: bergamot, lemon, grapefruit, lime, mandarin. Fresh herbs (basil, mint), light florals (lavender, neroli), and certain spices (pink pepper) also hit early.

Top notes do the work of getting your attention. They rarely last. By the time you’ve sat down at your desk, they’re mostly gone.

Heart notes (15 minutes – 3 hours)

The middle. Also called the soul of the fragrance. These molecules are slightly heavier and develop as the top notes fade. The heart is what defines the fragrance’s personality.

Florals (rose, jasmine, magnolia, geranium), spices (cinnamon, cardamom, clove), and softer woods (cedar, cypress) live here. If someone asks what your fragrance smells like an hour after you put it on, you’re describing the heart.

Heart notes carry the longest emotional weight. They’re the part of the perfume that becomes recognizable as yours.

Base notes (3+ hours)

The foundation. Heavy molecules with low volatility — they hold the lighter notes in place and slowly release over the rest of the day. Bases tend to be warm, deep, often a little smoky.

Vetiver, sandalwood, oakmoss, patchouli, vanilla, amber, musks, leather, tonka bean. These are the notes that linger on a scarf the next morning. Many fragrances are actually defined by their base, even though it’s the part you notice last.

Why this matters when you’re sampling

If you only smell a fragrance for thirty seconds, you’re judging it on its top notes alone. That’s like rating a film by the opening credits. Spray it, do something else for two hours, then check back in. The heart and base will tell you whether you actually want to live with this scent.

How we think about it

When we develop a fragrance at our Memphis studio, we work the base first. We pick the foundation we want — say, a smoky vetiver or a soft amber — and then build the heart and top around it. The base is the anchor; everything else has to make sense relative to it.

Most people remember a scent by its heart. Most people fall in love with a scent because of its base.

Most people pick fragrance the same way they pick a t-shirt: they walk past a counter, grab whatever the salesperson sprays on a card, and call it done. That’s how you end up smelling like everyone else at the office.

Choosing a signature scent — the one you’ll reach for on the days that matter — takes a little more deliberation. Here’s how we’d approach it.

1. Start with a memory, not a marketing campaign

Forget what’s trending. Think about a moment when you smelled something and felt grounded. Maybe it was a Sunday afternoon kitchen, the air after rain, the inside of a leather jacket, your grandmother’s garden. Scent isn’t decorative — it’s archival. The fragrances that stay with you are the ones that connect to a memory that’s already there.

Write down three of those memories. Those are your starting points.

2. Learn the families (briefly)

Every fragrance falls into a family or two. The shorthand:

• Woody — cedar, sandalwood, vetiver. Grounded, warm, often unisex.
• Floral — rose, jasmine, magnolia, neroli. Soft, expressive, doesn’t have to mean feminine.
• Citrus — bergamot, lemon, grapefruit. Bright, fresh, often the opening of a fragrance.
• Oriental / amber — vanilla, amber, resins, spices. Warm, evening, sensual.
• Fresh / green — herbs, ozonic notes, cucumber, basil. Clean, modern, daytime.
• Gourmand — vanilla, caramel, coffee, chocolate. Edible-adjacent.

Match your memories to a family. The leather jacket? Probably woody-amber. The garden? Floral or green. Rain? Fresh.

3. Sample before you commit

Never buy a 50ml bottle on the basis of a wrist spray at the counter. Fragrance changes over hours. The top notes you smell in minute one are not the same notes that linger at hour six. Order discovery sets, decants, or 5–10ml travel sizes. Live with a scent for a week before deciding.

4. Wear it on you, not on a card

Skin chemistry matters more than people admit. The same fragrance smells different on different bodies. A scent that’s gorgeous on a friend may be flat on you. Always test on your skin — pulse points, the inside of your wrist, the side of your neck — and let it develop for at least two hours before judging.

5. One signature is enough

You don’t need a wardrobe of twelve fragrances. One signature, maybe a second for evenings or seasons, is plenty. The whole point of a signature scent is that it becomes part of how people remember you. That doesn’t happen if you switch every week.

Take your time. The right one will feel obvious when it arrives.