An Amateur Perfumer's Journey
Words: Tara Boraine
I grew up as my household's designated 'nose' - a fitting role given both my physical features and my mother's loss of smell due to head trauma when I was just a child. Every evening, I'd drift off to sleep catching wisps of my father's 10 PM coffee as he painted late into the night, or the lingering traces of L'eau d'Issey on my mother's pulse points. These early olfactory memories, though I couldn't consciously catalog them at the time, were quietly shaping my understanding of the sensory world.
Being the daughter of artists blessed me with an unusually rich sensory education. My neurodivergent brain, with its tendency toward synesthesia, turned every scent into a complex tapestry of sensation & encoding my formative memories. Smell, being the only sense directly connected to the limbic system, became my most intimate way of understanding the world - though I wouldn't fully realize this until much later.
It was Long COVID that transformed my relationship with scent from passive appreciation to active pursuit. Confined to bed for a year, I found myself suddenly reactive to every synthetic fragrance. This limitation became an unexpected doorway into the world of natural perfumery. Unable to travel physically, I began exploring the world through its most primal sense. From my bed, I became a hermit alchemist, diving deep into the secretive realm of botanical aromas.
The role of a perfumer, I learned, extends far beyond mixing pleasant scents.
They are sensory historians, bridging epochs with each carefully crafted blend. A true perfumer must be both philosopher and detective, marrying scientific precision with emotional intuition. They must understand how a single molecule can unlock a flood of memories, how a carefully balanced accord can transport someone across time and space.
In South Africa, this art takes on additional layers of meaning. Our landscape holds some of the world's most precious perfume ingredients, each carrying stories as complex as their molecular structures. Take Cape Chamomile, with its surprisingly sweet, crisp apple scent underlaid with herbal nuances. Or consider buchu, whose extracted fractions give that distinctive "natural berry
flavor" to products worldwide. Then there's rose geranium Pelargonium graveolens) - nature's clever trick of creating a rose's perfume in a leaf.
My journey led me to seek out small-scale, sustainable fynbos farms, where I met people like farmer Dirk from Cape Fynbos Oils. I had ordered some samples blindly online, and Dirk himself arrived in his plaas bakkie to hand deliver essential oils from his custom copper stills. We talked about the changing climate, and the importance of sustainable harvesting practices.
These encounters taught me that perfumery in South Africa isn't just about creating beautiful scents - it's about preserving our botanical heritage.
In an effort to catalogue the smells I was encountering, I began tincturing whatever I could find. Bladder-wrack seaweed from our coasts, oak shavings from wine barrels, dried artemisia from my herb garden. Some of the most fascinating were the Namibian hardwood resins: omumgorwa, with its ancient, church-like resonance, and omumbiri, carrying deep, sweet date caramel notes. These resins, historically used by the Himba people mixed with butterfat and red ochre.
I even attempted enfleurage, an old French method of capturing delicate floral scents in fat. For thirty days, I became a respectful flower thief, carefully harvesting Natal Plum or noem noem blossoms from neighborhood gardens to layer atop the fat. Though my first attempt succumbed to mold on day fifteen, it taught me patience and persistence - both crucial virtues in the realm of natural perfumery, where ingredients are fragile & precious.
The challenge of sourcing authentic materials revealed another facet of the craft. Essential oil fraud is rampant, making every purchase an exercise in trust and verification. This led me to appreciate local small-scale distillers. South Africa's perfume palette is fascinating. The countryʼs diverse climate allows for the cultivation of both indigenous and non-indigenous plants suitable for essential oil
production.
Beyond the well-known eucalyptus, lavender and rose geranium, we have an abundance of helichrysum varieties. These "immortelle" flowers, including the sacred imphepho (Helichrysum petiolare), capture the very essence of an African sun in their warm, dry & papery scent. Another favourite of mine is the fruity Cape Chamomile, with a crisp, sweet and juicy fragrance reminiscent of green apples. While some traditional ingredients like rooibos & honeybush resist conventional distillation, innovative methods using CO2 extraction are opening new possibilities for perfumers to take advantage of
A year into this journey, I've created several formulations I'm proud of, including one that has become my personal signature. They're distinct compositions that will forever carry the memory of this bizarre yet beautiful chapter of my life.
While I'm stepping back from active perfume creation & only doing custom blends for myself, friends & family I've found my dream retirement activity for later down the line. I can picture my older self as I write, the archetypical crone pottering around the perfume lab, talking to plants and formulating historic accords that capture the smell of the botanical zeitgeist.
South Africaʼs botanical perfume scene is niche, but it is growing. Companies like Saint D'ici, Wild Olive Artisans, and Le Riche Perfumery demonstrate that ethical sourcing aren't obstacles to success, but essential ingredients to a ensuring a sustainable future for South Africaʼs botanical landscape
When societies change, so do their smells. Our scent preferences tell stories about who we are and who we're becoming. As South Africa continues to evolve, may the perfumes we anoint ourselves in reflect not just the richness of our botanical heritage, but also our commitment to sustainability and cultural respect.
Like many others who delve into this craft, I've learned that perfumery is a polymath's game. A perfumer must have two feet in the mud and their head in the stars, combining the precision of a scientist with the soul of a poet. In the end, perhaps that's what drew me so deeply into this world - the promise of finding beauty in both the measurable and the mysterious.
Comments