The Island That Taught Me to Smell

When people talk about fragrance inspiration, their minds often drift to the south of France—Grasse, the perfume capital of the world. But for me, that love story started far from Europe. My deep connection to fragrance began in the Caribbean, in the heart of Jamaica.

From a very young age, I understood the power of scent. It wasn’t a conscious decision—it was simply the way I experienced the world. In Jamaica, everything has a smell. The earth after rain, the salt-kissed ocean breeze, the vibrant greenery, the sizzling street food, the warm skin of loved ones, the animals, the ripe fruit, even the smoke rising from a fire in the hills—it all lingers in the air and makes you feel alive. Smell is woven into every corner of island life.

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After visits to see my family in Jamaica, I’d return to the U.S. with a heavy heart. But as I unpacked my clothes, they still carried the unmistakable scent of the island. That lingering aroma was my first lesson in the emotional imprint of fragrance. It made me long for home in ways I didn’t yet have words for.

Jamaica is an olfactive symphony. Life there is bold, rich, and unapologetically fragrant. Good or bad, everything carries a scent that roots you in the present moment—something the more sterile environments of the States rarely offer. On my uncle’s farm, nestled on our family land, I spent much of my childhood surrounded by the vivid smells of nature. The animals brought their own distinct odors. The land gave us fruits, herbs, and flowers, each adding a new layer to the scentscape. It was sensory storytelling. Smell became a way of knowing—a compass that could transport me back in time with a single whiff.

I remember standing in the kitchen with my grandmother, helping her prepare ackee for breakfast. A warm breeze drifted through the window, carrying the scent of a fresh sun shower. Rain in the Jamaican countryside is different—more intimate, more fragrant. It awakens the soil and brings every plant to life.

Driving through the hills with the windows down, I’d inhale the cool, crisp air of the tropical forest. The green of the trees, the misty dew clinging to leaves, the rhythm of wind weaving through banana groves—it all fused into something you couldn’t bottle, but never forgot.

And then there’s the ocean—constant, alive, and present. She leaves her mark with a briny, aquatic scent that drapes itself across the coastline, reminding us of Jamaica’s true nature. The land of wood and water—Xaymaca—the peak of an underwater mountain, ever reminding us where we come from.

In Jamaica, fragrance isn’t something added to life—it is life. It’s part of everything we do, everything we feel, and everything we remember. Jamaica will always be the foundation of my fragrance story—and every product I develop carries a whisper of that origin.