A house the size of a closet
…elegance in every bottle
Six fragrances. Never more than six. Everything below explains what that constraint buys, and what it costs us.
A point of view
Most perfume is built to be liked immediately, by as many people as possible, in the four seconds it takes to walk past a counter. It is a reasonable commercial instinct and it produces fragrances that are almost impossible to remember.
We are interested in the opposite: perfume that takes a moment to resolve, that reads differently at the second hour than the first, and that someone has to stand close to understand. If a composition is charming on the blotter and finished by lunchtime, it does not leave this house.
The six
There are six fragrances and they do not overlap. One is dark and resinous, one is a rose that refuses to behave, one is amber worn at the distance of an embrace. None of them is a lighter version of another, and none was made to fill a gap in a range.
They are all genderless, because the alternative has never made sense to us, and all built at a strength that assumes you want to be wearing it in the evening as well as the morning.
Why a closet
The name is literal. The house began in a converted linen closet — a bench, a set of scales, ninety amber bottles on a shelf, and a door that closed. The first two fragrances were written in that room.
We kept the name because it describes the size we intend to remain. A closet holds a finite number of things. When it is full, something has to leave before anything else arrives.