The bottle shattered against my studio floor—not with a crash, but with a burst of cerulean blue that flooded the room. The spilled perfume wasn’t just a scent; it was suddenly a symphony in C minor, each note rippling outward in concentric circles of violet and gold. For most people, this description seems like poetic license. For me and other perfumers who experience scent through multiple senses, it’s just another day at the Petite Histoire atelier in New York.

I founded Petite Histoire after years of searching for something I couldn’t quite define. I learned to live in Italy; to love in Paris; to work in New York City. I spent several years building a career in Manhattan, but what I found missing from my daily life—what I had cherished in Europe—was the subtle art of everyday seduction. Witty banter, charming flirtation, the luxury of leisure: I missed the slower pace of life that ensured a connection with my surroundings.

And so I turned my attention to something I’ve been passionate about for as long as I can remember: perfume. Not just any perfume, but natural perfumery—an art form that speaks to all the senses, where botanical materials tell stories that synthetic molecules simply cannot.

For about 2-5% of the population, the neurological phenomenon called synesthesia causes one sensory pathway to trigger automatic experiences in another. Unlike metaphorical descriptions (“this smells bright” or “that has a round scent”), true synesthesia is consistent, involuntary, and often quite specific.

Olfactory synesthesia represents one of the most fascinating forms of this neurological phenomenon. Unlike more common forms like grapheme-color synesthesia, where letters or numbers trigger color perceptions, olfactory synesthesia involves complex neural pathways that connect our most primitive sense—smell—with other sensory processing centers.

The brain’s olfactory processing involves dual pathways:

• Orthonasal (through the nose)

• Retronasal (via the mouth as part of flavor)

These pathways contribute to the complex nature of olfactory processing and its potential for synesthetic experiences. Research using fMRI has shown increased BOLD responses in the piriform cortex (primary olfactory cortex) when synesthetes view odor-inducing images, suggesting genuine neural activation rather than mere imagery.

While I don’t claim to have clinical synesthesia, my work with natural materials has heightened my cross-sensory perceptions to the point where the line between metaphor and genuine sensory experience has blurred. When I work with sandalwood from Mysore, I don’t just smell its creamy, woody richness—I feel its smooth texture and see its warm amber glow. The Bulgarian rose absolute in our fragrances appears to me as a soft, pulsing magenta, while the violet leaf feels like cool silk against the skin. These perceptions guide my formulations as much as the olfactory qualities themselves.

At Petite Histoire, our approach centers on a profound reverence for natural materials. We draw inspiration from their unique characteristics and inherent variation to craft experiences that translate nostalgia into future memories.

The world of natural perfumery is infinitely more complex than working with synthetics. A natural bergamot oil contains over 300 distinct molecules, each contributing to its sparkling, citrusy character. This complexity creates a radiance and dimension that, to me, manifests as a golden light with green edges.

When creating Coup de Courage, I built around sandalwood and vanilla—the warmth of a lover’s embrace. The ylang-ylang that teases cedarwood and labdanum reveals itself to me not just as a scent but as a sinuous yellow ribbon threading through deeper brown tones. This wasn’t a marketing concept—it was my genuine experience of the materials coming together.

Working with my collaborator Mathieu Nardin, I’ve learned to translate these cross-sensory perceptions into compositions that evoke emotional responses. We follow the technical standards of IFRA ISO Norm 9235, but the real magic happens when the natural materials begin to interact, creating sensory symphonies that exceed the sum of their parts.

The pursuit of unique scents drives innovation in the perfume industry, and the connection between fragrance and other sensory experiences has fascinated humans for centuries. As a natural perfumer, I find myself part of a long tradition of artisans trying to understand how scent connects to our other senses.

In the early 20th century, perfumer Edmond Roudnitska—whose work I’ve studied extensively—developed sophisticated approaches to fragrance composition. Working with Dior, he created iconic scents like Diorissimo that demonstrated his exceptional understanding of balance and contrast in perfumery. While contemporary marketing materials often describe Roudnitska as having synesthesia, current research suggests he primarily used cross-sensory language metaphorically rather than experiencing clinical synesthesia. Nevertheless, his methodical approach to connecting scent with other sensory impressions laid crucial groundwork for modern perfumery.

This fascination with connecting sensory experiences wasn’t limited to perfumers. Throughout history, artists and scientists have attempted to create correspondence systems between different sensory domains:

Era	Pioneer	Contribution
1890s	Alexander Scriabin	Russian composer who created color-sound correspondences for music, including his symphony “Prometheus: The Poem of Fire” which featured a color organ. Research suggests Scriabin developed his color-sound system not from inherent synesthesia but from theosophical theories about sensory correspondence.
1920s	Wassily Kandinsky	Pioneering abstract artist who developed systematic theories connecting colors, shapes, and emotional responses. He associated yellow with triangles, red with squares, and blue with circles based on his perception of their inherent energetic properties.
1950s	Edmond Roudnitska	Perfumer who brought unprecedented intellectual rigor to fragrance creation, emphasizing balance and structure in compositions. While not claiming synesthesia himself, he used rich cross-sensory language to describe his creations.
1980s	International Flavors & Fragrances	Leading fragrance house that developed technical approaches to mapping fragrance characteristics, though specific claims about a formal “scent spectrum” mapping system from this period remain difficult to verify.

What fascinates me about these historical attempts to map scents to colors or sounds is that they weren’t just artistic exercises—they were serious efforts to understand what neuroscience now confirms: our sensory systems are deeply interconnected. At Petite Histoire, I’m continuing this tradition by exploring how natural raw materials can trigger multi-sensory experiences.

When I create our fragrances, blending Bulgarian rose and orris, I’m conscious of how these materials have historically been associated with specific colors and textures. The rose appears in my mind as soft pink with violet undertones, while the orris presents as a misty lavender-gray. These aren’t clinical synesthetic experiences, but rather the result of years working intimately with these materials and developing my own sensory vocabulary.

The historical mapping of scent to other senses reminds us that perfumery has always been more than just creating pleasant smells—it’s about crafting complete sensory experiences that resonate across multiple dimensions of perception.

A city of concrete and chrome might not seem the place for a line focused on naturals, but Petite Histoire wouldn’t have blossomed anywhere else. The contrast between New York’s urban intensity and the wild, untamed character of our natural ingredients creates a tension that drives our creativity.

In my studio, surrounded by hundreds of natural essences—each with their own color, texture, and emotional resonance—I find myself straddling worlds. The bergamot from Calabria, the jasmine from India, the cedarwood from Virginia—each connects me to places far from Manhattan’s grid while simultaneously anchoring me in the present moment.

When you work exclusively with natural materials, you surrender to their whims and variations. No two harvests are identical; each batch of rose absolute or sandalwood brings its own character. For a synesthetic perfumer—or even one with heightened cross-sensory awareness—these variations create new visual and tactile landscapes to explore.

“Natural perfumery is inherently synesthetic,” I often tell my clients. “The materials themselves demand that you engage with them through multiple senses.” When I teach perfume workshops, I ask participants to close their eyes and describe what colors they see when smelling different essences. The responses are remarkably consistent—bitter orange as bright gold, vetiver as deep forest green, rose as pink with violet undertones.

From my studio in New York, sourcing materials from around the world, I’ve observed how cultural factors significantly influence both fragrance creation and perception. The Middle Eastern appreciation for rich, resinous oudh—which appears to me as deep purple with gold flecks—contrasts with the Japanese preference for delicate, transparent notes that I perceive as pale white geometries.

Our fragrance Hollywoodland, with its lavender and neroli brightened by rose de mai, was inspired by California’s golden light. When creating it, I visualized the warm glow of sunset over the Pacific. Our French-influenced fragrances, with powdery orris and gentle rose, manifest as cool blues and purples—the colors of Paris at twilight.

This vision extends to our sustainability practices as well. We work with ingredients suppliers who lead in sustainable practices, from rainwater capture to certified harvests, ensuring the global communities that nurture our raw materials are also respected. This connection between sensory experience and environmental responsibility is fundamental to our brand philosophy.

As our understanding of sensory processing deepens, natural perfumery is entering an era where the boundaries between sensory domains are increasingly fluid. At Petite Histoire, we’re exploring ways to enhance these cross-sensory connections through our packaging, our storytelling, and even the physical space of our studio.

For me, natural perfumery isn’t just about creating beautiful scents—it’s about crafting holistic sensory experiences that transport and transform. Whether that’s through the warm embrace of sandalwood in Coup de Courage or the rain-kissed rose petals in our compositions, each creation tells a story that engages multiple senses.

The bottle on my studio floor has long since been cleaned up, but the cerulean burst and symphonic resonance of that moment continues to inspire my approach to perfume. For those with synesthesia, fragrance is never just a smell—it’s a full sensory composition waiting to be experienced. And for everyone else? Perhaps it’s an invitation to cross the boundaries between smell, sight, sound, and touch, even if just for a moment.

After all, isn’t that what seduction is all about? The blurring of boundaries, the heightening of senses, the promise of something more. At Petite Histoire, that’s what we create—for the lover you’ll become.

Synesthesia is a neurological condition where stimulation of one sensory pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory pathway. For example, seeing colors when hearing music, or perceiving textures when smelling fragrances. It affects approximately 2-5% of the population.

Research suggests synesthesia has a genetic component and typically manifests in early childhood. While true neurological synesthesia cannot be developed, most people can strengthen their cross-sensory associations through mindfulness and practice.

No, most perfumers do not have clinical synesthesia. However, many develop strong cross-sensory associations through their training and experience. When a synesthesia person creates perfume, they draw from their unique cross-sensory perceptions, which can lead to particularly innovative creations.

If you consistently and automatically experience colors, shapes, textures, or sounds when smelling certain fragrances—without consciously trying to make these associations—you might have some form of olfactory synesthesia. For a formal diagnosis, you would need to consult with a neurologist specializing in sensory processing.

Many believe it can provide unique advantages. Perfumers with olfactory synesthesia often describe scents in terms of colors, textures, or sounds, which can lead to unexpected combinations and more complex, multi-dimensional fragrances.

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