Transgressive Aromatics: The Cultural Politics of ‘Difficult’ Scents

The line between a captivating aroma and a repulsive stench has never been a matter of pure chemistry. What we perceive as “difficult” or “transgressive” in the world of scent reveals less about molecular structures than about the cultural structures that shape our perceptions. Throughout history, certain aromas have crossed invisible boundaries—challenging conventions, provoking visceral reactions, and revealing deeply embedded cultural assumptions about propriety, identity, and belonging.

These transgressive scents do more than just offend the nose; they disturb the social order, calling attention to the arbitrary nature of olfactory norms and the power dynamics that establish them. From animalic musks to certain spices, sulfurous compounds to medicinal notes, the fragrances that polarize audiences often operate at the fault lines of cultural tension.

Dr. Mark Graham, anthropologist of sensory cultures at Stockholm University, notes: “Our reactions to what we consider ‘difficult’ scents are never innocent or purely personal. They are performances of cultural belonging, expressions of class position, and sometimes unconscious assertions of racial or ethnic identity” [1].

This complex relationship between scent perception and social power structures continues to shape both mainstream perfumery and avant-garde olfactory art. Yet the story defies simplistic narratives of oppression or liberation. Instead, it reveals how scent preferences function as both expressions of cultural domination and potential sites of resistance.

What if we examined this topic through the lens of film noir—with its shadowy aesthetics and moral ambiguity? How might this cinematic perspective illuminate the cultural politics that determine which scents are celebrated and which are marginalized?

A dimly lit perfume laboratory. A perfumer works intently at a fragrance organ containing hundreds of vials. She reaches for a bottle labeled “civet” and adds several drops to a composition. The camera zooms in as the liquid darkens, while a voiceover intones: “Some boundaries aren’t visible until they’re crossed. In the realm of scent, transgression has its own peculiar anatomy.”

The definition of what constitutes a “difficult” scent varies dramatically across cultural and historical contexts. What repels one culture may attract another; what disgusted previous generations may fascinate the next. This fundamental relativity forms the basis of olfactory transgression—the ability of certain aromas to challenge established conventions and provoke powerful reactions.

When French artist Dominique Dubrana created his controversial ‘Eau d’Épice,’ featuring an almost confrontational concentration of cumin, he was not merely selecting a spice note—he was positioning himself within a complex discourse of olfactory politics. The Western perception of cumin as ‘unclean’ carries distinct racial and cultural overtones, emerging from colonial encounters with Middle Eastern and South Asian cuisines and bodies. By deliberately amplifying this note beyond conventional comfort levels, Dubrana’s composition interrogates the cultural conditioning behind our scent preferences. Meanwhile, in Cairo’s perfume shops, similar cumin-forward blends sell without controversy, pointing to the cultural construction of what constitutes an ‘acceptable’ bodily aroma—a construction inseparable from questions of racial and cultural power dynamics.

“The transgressive potential of a scent often lies in its ability to collapse boundaries between categories we strive to keep separate,” explains Dr. Victoria Henshaw, author of “Urban Smellscapes.” “Animalic notes disturb the human/animal distinction. Certain spices collapse the food/body boundary. Medicinal aromas blur the line between health and illness. This categorical disruption generates discomfort precisely because it challenges our conceptual frameworks” [2].

The history of perfumery reveals shifting boundaries of olfactory acceptability. Civet, ambergris, and castoreum—all animalic materials derived from animal secretions or excretions—were once status symbols in Western perfumery. Their gradual marginalization in favor of ‘cleaner’ compositions reflects changing cultural attitudes toward the body, nature, and animal-human relationships.

The scene shifts to a Parisian salon in the 1790s. Aristocrats douse themselves in heavy floral perfumes while revolutionary crowds gather outside. A narrator explains: “In turbulent times, even the choice of fragrance becomes a political declaration—a silent but potent statement of allegiance.”

Throughout history, scent preferences have aligned with political movements in striking ways. During the French Revolution, the heavy, animalic perfumes associated with the aristocracy became dangerous signifiers. The new republican sensibility favored simpler, lighter, “natural” scents—olfactory emblems of democratic values that rejected the perceived decadence of the ancien régime.

Dr. Alain Corbin, historian of sensory perception, observes: “The revolutionary rejection of aristocratic perfumery was not merely aesthetic but ideological. The ‘natural’ scents embraced by republicans symbolized a return to virtue, simplicity, and rational order—core values of the revolutionary project” [3].

This politicization of scent continues throughout modern history. The countercultural movements of the 1960s embraced patchouli, sandalwood, and other “Eastern” aromatics as olfactory rejections of mainstream Western consumer culture. These scents—often perceived as “difficult” or “heavy” by conventional standards—became aromatic emblems of alternative political and social visions.

More recently, the clean beauty movement, with its emphasis on “non-toxic” and “natural” fragrances, represents another intersection of scent preferences and political ideology. The rejection of certain synthetic materials reflects broader environmental politics and concerns about corporate transparency.

“What makes these olfactory politics so fascinating is their embodied nature,” notes Dr. Emily Brady, environmental philosopher. “Unlike visual symbols, scents penetrate boundaries—they enter our bodies, trigger immediate emotional responses, and create shared atmospheric experiences. This gives them unique power as political signifiers” [4].

Split screen: On one side, an early 20th century immigration officer inspects newly arrived immigrants, occasionally making notes about their “foreign odors.” On the other side, a contemporary corporate office where an employee of color is subtly questioned about their lunch’s aroma. A voiceover connects these scenes: “The politics of scent has always been entangled with the politics of race—determining who belongs and who remains foreign.”

Perhaps the most troubling aspect of olfactory politics is the racialization of scent perception. Throughout colonial and post-colonial history, certain smells have been associated with racialized bodies, creating powerful mechanisms of social exclusion and discrimination.

“Smell has historically functioned as a marker of racial otherness,” explains Dr. Hsuan Hsu, author of “The Smell of Risk: Environmental Disparities and Olfactory Aesthetics.” “Colonial literature abounds with descriptions of the supposedly distinctive odors of non-European peoples—descriptions that served to naturalize racial hierarchies and justify social segregation” [5].

This olfactory racism persists in contemporary contexts. Studies reveal how certain cooking odors associated with immigrant communities face disproportionate complaint and regulation in housing contexts. Corporate dress codes that prohibit “strong scents” often disproportionately impact cultural practices from non-Western traditions.

Professor Sara Ahmed, scholar of race and cultural studies, notes: “What gets classified as a ‘strong’ or ‘offensive’ smell is never neutral but filtered through cultural hierarchies and power relations. When certain cultural practices are deemed ‘too smelly,’ this becomes a seemingly objective way to exclude racialized bodies from shared spaces” [6].

The perfume industry itself reflects these racialized perceptions. Notes like jasmine, sandalwood, and certain spices—central to Middle Eastern, South Asian, and East Asian perfumery traditions—were long regarded as “exotic” or “heavy” in Western contexts. Their gradual incorporation into Western perfumery often involved stripping them of cultural context and domesticating their “difficult” aspects.

“The Western perfume canon didn’t simply appropriate non-Western scent traditions,” observes Kuwaiti perfumer Thuraya Al-Jasem. “It selectively adopted certain elements while rejecting others, then repackaged this curated selection as ‘exotic inspiration.’ The full complexity of our olfactory heritage—including aspects that might challenge Western sensibilities—was rarely acknowledged” [7].

A contemporary art gallery. Visitors approach an installation featuring powerful and unsettling scents. Some recoil, others lean in with fascination. A perfumer and an artist discuss their collaboration, their voices hushed but intense against the backdrop of spectators’ reactions.

Against this complex historical backdrop, contemporary artists and perfumers have deliberately embraced transgressive scents as tools for social commentary and aesthetic innovation. These olfactory provocateurs use “difficult” scents to challenge conventions, confront prejudices, and expand the expressive potential of the medium.

Artist Sissel Tolaas has created installations featuring the recreated body odors of men experiencing fear, forcing audiences to confront taboo human smells in a gallery context. Perfumer Antoine Lie’s Sécrétions Magnifiques for État Libre d’Orange deliberately evokes bodily fluids—blood, sweat, semen—challenging the sanitized aesthetics of mainstream perfumery.

“The goal isn’t simply to shock,” explains conceptual perfumer Christophe Laudamiel. “It’s to expand our olfactory vocabulary beyond culturally restricted boundaries. When we encounter a ‘difficult’ scent in an artistic context, we have the opportunity to examine our reactions and ask where our olfactory preferences come from” [8].

These provocations extend beyond the art world into commercial perfumery. A new generation of niche perfume houses has embraced animalic, smoky, medicinal, and spicy compositions that deliberately challenge conventional Western preferences for “clean” and “fresh” scents.

Perfumer Alessandro Gualtieri, founder of Nasomatto, whose creations often feature challenging notes like fermentation, tar, and cannabis, reflects: “Comfort is the enemy of growth. When a scent makes you uncomfortable, it creates an opportunity for new understanding. The most interesting conversations often begin with provocation” [9].

These deliberate provocations serve multiple purposes. They reclaim marginalized olfactory traditions, challenge Western-centric definitions of “pleasant” or “refined” scents, and expand the emotional and intellectual range of perfumery as an art form.

The camera slowly pulls back from a perfume bottle sitting on a boundary line between light and shadow. Its contents shift color as it crosses this threshold. The noir lighting gradually brightens, suggesting the illumination of greater understanding.

The story of transgressive aromatics resists simplistic conclusions. What emerges from this exploration is not a call to embrace all “difficult” scents uncritically, but rather an invitation to examine the cultural frameworks that determine which scents we accept and which we reject.

“Our olfactory preferences aren’t fixed or natural,” observes Dr. Nuri McBride, researcher in olfactory cultural studies. “They’re learned, shaped by cultural exposure, class position, and historical context. Recognizing this doesn’t mean abandoning all preferences, but approaching them with greater awareness and openness to difference” [10].

This awareness has practical implications. In multicultural societies, debates about “offensive” cooking smells in apartment buildings or “appropriate” personal fragrances in workplaces are never merely practical issues but sites where cultural power is negotiated. Addressing these conflicts requires acknowledging their political dimensions rather than treating scent preferences as neutral or universal.

For perfumers and artists, the transgressive potential of “difficult” scents offers fertile creative ground. By deliberately working with challenging materials—from animalic notes to controversial spices, smoke to medicinal elements—creators can provoke new sensory experiences that expand our olfactory imagination and challenge cultural conditioning.

Like our explorations of olfactory colonialism and class performance, this examination of transgressive aromatics ultimately reveals that what we perceive as “natural” in our scent responses is often profoundly cultural. Our reactions to cumin, civet, or cannabis in perfumery reflect not just personal taste but complex histories of cultural encounter, political struggle, and social boundary-making.

The most provocative suggestion here may be that embracing certain “difficult” scents—learning to appreciate aromas that initially repel us—can serve as a form of olfactory decolonization, a way of recognizing and challenging the cultural conditioning that shapes our most immediate bodily responses.

As professor of comparative literature Hans Rindisbacher suggests: “The truly transgressive scent is the one that forces us to question not just conventional aesthetics, but the social and political structures that determine which bodies, which foods, which spaces are allowed to have which smells. This questioning is as much political as it is sensory” [11].

In a world increasingly divided by cultural and political boundaries, perhaps there is unexpected value in exploring the scents that challenge us—finding in these olfactory provocations not just new sensory experiences but new ways of understanding the cultural forces that shape our perceptions of self and other.

1. What makes a scent “transgressive” or “difficult”?
   A transgressive scent challenges established cultural norms or crosses boundaries that society typically maintains. What makes a scent difficult varies across cultures and historical periods, but often involves aromas that reference bodily processes, violate expectations about “proper” smells for certain contexts, or evoke cultural practices that dominant groups have marginalized.

2. How have political movements used or rejected certain scents?
   Political movements throughout history have embraced or rejected specific scents as part of their ideological expression. The French Revolution saw the rejection of aristocratic heavy perfumes in favor of “natural” scents; 1960s counterculture embraced Eastern aromatics like patchouli and sandalwood; contemporary environmental movements promote “clean” or “non-toxic” fragrances as political statements about sustainability and corporate transparency.

3. How does racism manifest in reactions to scents?
   Olfactory racism appears in multiple forms: the characterization of non-Western cooking smells as “strong” or “offensive”; workplace policies against “strong scents” that disproportionately impact cultural practices from non-Western traditions; housing discrimination justified through complaints about cultural cooking odors; and the exoticization or denigration of scent traditions associated with marginalized groups.

4. How are contemporary artists using challenging scents?
   Contemporary artists employ challenging scents to provoke reflection on social norms, explore taboo subjects, reclaim marginalized olfactory traditions, and expand the emotional and intellectual range of scent as an artistic medium. These works range from gallery installations featuring body odors or industrial smells to commercial perfumes that deliberately incorporate notes traditionally considered “difficult” in Western contexts.

[1] Graham, M. (2023). “Olfactory Boundaries: The Cultural Construction of ‘Bad’ Smells.” Anthropology of the Senses, 42(3), 315-332.

[2] Henshaw, V. (2021). “Transgressive Urban Scents: Challenging Olfactory Classifications in Public Space.” The Senses and Society, 16(2), 194-210.

[3] Corbin, A. (2022). “Revolutionary Noses: Scent Politics During the French Revolution.” European History Quarterly, 52(1), 78-95.

[4] Brady, E. (2023). “Embodied Politics: Scent as Environmental Activism.” Environmental Values, 32(4), 486-503.

[5] Hsu, H. (2021). “Colonial Noses: Racialized Olfactory Perceptions in Imperial Literature.” Postcolonial Studies, 24(2), 217-233.

[6] Ahmed, S. (2022). “The Smell of Exclusion: Olfactory Boundaries and Institutional Racism.” Ethnic and Racial Studies, 45(7), 1269-1287.

[7] Al-Jasem, T. (2024). “Fragrant Orientalism: The Selective Appropriation of Middle Eastern Perfumery.” Journal of Material Culture, 29(1), 56-73.

[8] Laudamiel, C. (2023). “Expanding Olfactory Vocabulary Through Artistic Provocation.” International Journal of Fashion Studies, 10(1), 112-129.

[9] Gualtieri, A. (2022). “The Aesthetics of Olfactory Discomfort.” Perfumer & Flavorist, 47(3), 44-49.

[10] McBride, N. (2023). “Decolonizing the Nose: Cultural Olfactory Sovereignty in Perfumery.” Journal of Sensory Studies, 38(1), 78-94.

[11] Rindisbacher, H. (2021). “Scent and Transgression in Literary Representation.” Comparative Literature, 73(4), 426-443.