The Influence of Words on What We Smell

Serge Dumont

What if a scent began before we even smelled it?

Imagine two scent strips.

I tell you the first one evokes an «old, damp basement.»

For the second, I describe a «forest after the rain.»

Then I ask you to smell them.

The problem?

They could be the same scent.

And despite that, your experience might not be quite the same.

It’s an idea I find fascinating.

We tend to believe that smelling happens in a fairly simple order:

A scent reaches us.

Our nose detects it.

Then we look for words to describe it.

But sometimes, it seems that words can travel in the opposite direction.

They arrive first.

And when the scent appears... our brain already has a possible story through which to interpret it.

So one question becomes difficult to avoid:

Do we smell only with our nose… or also with the words we already know?

One Scent. Two Stories.

Researchers have explored this strange relationship...

In one particularly interesting experiment, the very same odour could be presented with a label suggesting «cheddar» or another suggesting «body odour»… The odour itself did not change.

But people’s response to it did.

When it was associated with cheese, it was judged more pleasant than when it was associated with body odour.

Researchers even observed differences in the activity of brain regions involved in emotional and olfactory processing.

Other experiments have shown a similar phenomenon: giving an odour a positive or negative description can change how participants evaluate how pleasant it is and, under certain conditions, how intense it seems.

I find that almost unsettling, because while we think we are judging a scent… we may also be judging what we think it is.

Smelling Before Knowing

That is why there is a way of discovering a perfume that I particularly love… smelling it before reading about it.

Before the notes.

Before the fragrance family.

Before the reviews.

Before, when possible, even knowing exactly what we are supposed to find in it.

Because the moment someone tells you:

«There’s vanilla in it», something happens. You begin looking for the vanilla.

You are told:

«It’s a dark fragrance».

You begin noticing its darkness.

«Very sensual.»

You start looking for sensuality.

«A powdery rose.»

And suddenly your nose begins searching for a rose and a powdery sensation.

That does not necessarily mean you will invent those smells… But your attention has just been given a direction.

Because smelling is not simply the passive reception of molecules.

It is also directing your attention somewhere.

Why Do We Want to Know the Notes So Much?

When we discover a perfume, one of the first questions is often:

«What’s in it?»

I completely understand that impulse.

Words give us reference points.

Rose.

Cedar.

Bergamot.

Vanilla.

Leather.

Sandalwood.

And suddenly, something invisible becomes a little easier to grasp.

We can compare it to something we already know.

Place it somewhere in our memory.

Talk about it with someone.

The problem may begin when words stop helping us understand what we have smelled… and start telling us what we are supposed to smell.

There is a subtle difference between the two... And in perfume, that difference can become enormous.

A List of Notes Is Not the Perfume

There is also another reason why I like to keep a certain distance from descriptions before smelling.

A perfume is never:

Rose + Woods + Vanilla.

Even when those three words appear in its description.

Depending on their proportions, their interactions, and all the materials surrounding them, that Rose can become luminous, dark, cold, dry, or almost impossible to recognize.

The Woods may simply provide structure without ever presenting themselves clearly as «wood.»

The Vanilla may bring a sense of roundness without ever making you think of dessert.

It is one of the things composition has taught me: what we recognize in a perfume is not necessarily what plays the most important role within it.

And looking only for the words we were given can sometimes make us miss what the perfume is actually doing.

And What About the Name of the Perfume?

The phenomenon becomes even more interesting when the word is no longer a note, but a name.

Imagine exactly the same composition presented under two names:

«Forest After the Rain» and «Damp Basement»

It would be surprising if those two phrases prepared us for exactly the same experience.

And yet, the liquid has not changed.

But before the bottle is even opened, an image already exists. A temperature, a kind of light, and perhaps even an emotion.

Research on olfaction shows more broadly that semantic information (the words and meanings associated with smells) can influence different aspects of perception, and that this effect also interacts with our familiarity and our culture.

So the name of a perfume may never be completely neutral… and that is precisely what makes working with words so delicate.

A beautiful name can open a door, but it can also become an instruction.

How Much of a Perfume Should We Tell?

This brings us to something I think about a great deal when presenting a creation.

Should we tell its story?

Of course.

An intention can deeply enrich the experience.

Understanding why a perfume exists can reveal dimensions we might not otherwise have noticed.

But at what point does the story become too present?

If I explain, before you even smell it, that this fragrance represents:

safety,

a childhood forest,

the warmth of a home,

a rediscovered sense of freedom… am I still allowing you to encounter the perfume?

I believe the perfumer has a particular responsibility here...

«Give enough to open the imagination… but not enough to close it.»

Does a Perfume Have a Story Before It Meets Yours?

A creation always begins somewhere...

There is an intention.

Choices.

Materials we keep.

Others we remove.

An emotion we try to translate.

That story belongs to the perfumer.

But from the moment the perfume meets someone else, a second story begins… and that one no longer belongs entirely to me.

A material that means calm to me... may awaken a completely different memory in you.

A smell I associate with childhood... may feel entirely unfamiliar to you.

An accord I imagined as comforting... may create a feeling of distance in someone else.

Perhaps that is one of the beauties of perfume: we can compose the intention without ever being able to fully control the experience.

And I believe words should respect that freedom.

A Small Experiment

The next time you discover a perfume you do not know, try something :

Do not look at its notes.

Do not read the reviews.

If possible, even hide its name.

Just smell it.

Then write down only a few words.

Not what you think you recognize… but rather what you feel.

Is it warm or cold?

Open or dense?

Calm or alive?

Familiar or strange?

Does it bring you closer to something?

Does it make you want to return to it?

Only then, read its description… And observe.

Not as though you had “found the right notes.”

Instead, observe what changes in your perception now that the words have arrived.

Perhaps almost nothing will change. Perhaps you will suddenly notice something you had missed. Or perhaps you will discover that the story told by your nose was far more interesting than the one written in the description.

We use words to make perfume more visible and easier to understand.

We need them… To learn, to transmit, and to share.

But perhaps sometimes we should leave a few seconds of silence before speaking them.

Just long enough to allow the nose to encounter something before the mind decides what that thing is supposed to be.

Because there is a difference between putting words to what we smell… and smelling what words have taught us to look for.

And the next time a perfume seems to smell unmistakably of rose, leather, forest, or skin… perhaps another question will appear:

«Is it really my nose telling me what I smell… or have the words already taught me what to look for?»

Every reflection opens a new door into the world of fragrance.

If this article has sparked your curiosity, I invite you to explore ***About Me, My Olfactory Philosophy, and The Seven Foundations of My Perfumery***, where I share the vision that inspires each of my creations.

You can also explore the «Atypique Guide», created to deepen your understanding of artisan perfumery, or take your time discovering my Collection of artisan fragrances.

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