To put it mildly, it’s an interesting time for the fragrance industry.

For one, its audience is suddenly expanding, thanks to an onslaught of fresh demographics like teen boys who’ve joined the ranks as spritzers. But it’s a segment that’s also deepening due to the rise of an uber-passionate subculture known as “frag heads”. Think sneakerheads, except they get hopped up on fragrances. Their reliably inspired, fervent online discussions on PerfumeTok and dedicated forums expose an intriguing paradox.

While perhaps our most powerful sense, scent is also our most local. Even familiar aromas are practically impossible to recall when we’re out of sniffing distance. And yet, it doesn’t seem to matter. Fragrance is flourishing via URL despite only experiencing it in IRL.

But how can this be? How do we rectify the digital with the tangible?

Fragrance isn’t just about scent—at least, not solely. It’s a cross-modal experience that speaks to all of our senses. The feel of the bottle, the sound of the spray, and perhaps more than anything, the visual language of the packaging helps us make sense of scents.

We’ve dug into the world of frag head-approved brands to understand how they’re leveraging packaging design to trigger this kind of “smell-it-through-the-screen” synesthesia and build a fanbase at the same time. Needless to say, we found a few trends worth exploring.

Minimalist, with a Twist

The iconic simplicity of Chanel No. 5’s bottle established minimalism as THE fragrance aesthetic. Today, we see brand spaying homage to the same “less is more” approach while introducing something fresh.

At Vilhem, this translates via textured glass and a distinctive brand colour applied to an otherwise restrained, hyper-consistent system. Over at Toskovat, the twist comes through juxtaposing relatively conventional shape language with highly unconventional, anti-notes naming.

Meanwhile, with DS and Durga, a touch of flex is injected into a fixed framework. While most of their fragrances adhere to their clean, stark look, a select few are permitted a bit of playfulness and individuality with evocative patterns, type, and substrates.

Rules Schmules

Perhaps unsurprisingly, a few niche brands are (heavily) rebelling against the self-serious image of fragrance by using subversive, bratted packaging that effectively reminds us that it’s just perfume. It’s almost like a note of self-awareness—a realization that “no, it’s not that deep” and “nothing matters anyway”. There’s also a decent parallel between this and the chasm we see between traditional and natural wine aesthetics.

True to form, however, MSCHF’s “Eau de Industrie” bundle feels like they designed it to piss people off. It almost performs like a Rorschach Test, irreverent and quirky, and perhaps a nod to late-stage capitalism. Either way, you can smell like Fabuloso.

Binaurale brings an intriguing ickiness to its closure. It’s part semi-sucked gobstopper, part organic brainy tissue. You want to reach out and touch it. It’s also sort of gross but in a cool way.

The New Objet D'art

Perfume bottles have long played double duty as sculptural art pieces—meant to be displayed on a vanity or bureau (that’s a dresser, by the way). What’s newer news, perhaps, is seeing an intentional contrast between closure and bottle. Vibe-wide, shape-wise, and texture-wise, these bottles are genius. They tell the distinct story of each scent and drive unmissable cohesion as a collection.

At Floraïku, a classic, refined bottle shape is paired with vibrantly illustrated closures that transport the user to another world. A personal favourite, Stora Skuggan, is an oversized, weighty orb closure contrasted against characterful sketches that vary by scent.

Form Follow Function

Last but not least, for the anti-packaging frag head who prioritises “the juice” above all else, every design choice must serve what’s inside. That might mean investing in functional performance, like the powerful, high-quality atomizers coming out of Creed and Mancera.

Or it might mean focusing on juice longevity. Montale eschews glass in favour of aluminum to provide a thermal and UV-resistant barrier, shielding the perfume from the elements. It’s like how the hidden gem gelato spots cover theirs with stainless steel lids while the more touristy ones keep theirs on show.

In their own ways, these brands understand that a bottle is more than just a vessel: It’s the purest distillation of their brand experience. The semiotics of their scent. They invite us — in the very best of ways — to judge a book by its cover, a perfume by its pack, and engage all our senses in scent.

First published in Dieline.