“Send the smell of the moon,” instructed Yoko Ono in the “Smell Piece” from her 1964 book Grapefruit. It sounds quite like a brief for French perfumer Céline Barel, whose work for Aesop begins with imagining scents that may not exist yet.
Renowned for translating the most abstract concepts into some of this century’s most interesting fragrances, Barel always starts with a “fabulist accord.” It could be something found in the real world, such as the chunk of silver ore that inspired Entirely Aurner. Or it could be an “imaginary, poetic element,” says Barel. Her 2015 debut scent for Aesop, Tacit Truths, captures the first whisper of light in a morning sky. Above Us, Steorra bottles the flash of a shooting star. And in Aesop’s latest, Unforeseen Aer, Barel decants pure air.
“I was inspired by a line from a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay written on the wall of the Aesop office in Paris: ‘Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, but climb,'” she tells CULTURED. “Since you cannot physically bottle that pure air, we had to conjure its aroma—translating the myth of ‘aether,’ the pristine air breathed by the gods, into a physical scent.”
A riff on the classic fougère structure—which builds on a harmony of lavender, coumarin, and oakmoss—Unforeseen Aer wraps the wearer in a breezy, happy cloud of geranium, rosemary, and lavandin notes. Finally, to “challenge this pure air,” Barel slipped in a fiery dose of nutmeg. “It gives a controlled contrast that adds depth and softens the crisp top notes,” she says. “This friction is what gives Unforeseen Aer its character and its nonconformist soul.”
Below, Barel opens up about the sometimes opaque, sometimes nostalgic, always stimulating process of crafting a scent from top to heart to base.
What is your creative process with Aesop?
When Aesop briefs me, it is much more than a moodboard. These briefs provide rich food for thought—a poetic quote, a film, a painting, a photograph, or even a question. I’ll take this sensory atmosphere and construct bridges in my mind, linking my five senses to build a physical structure from abstract concepts. When formulating, I often return to André Gide’s sentiment that “the work of art is the exaggeration of an idea.” This invites me to push a specific, carefully chosen ingredient to a radical, highly controlled amount. Yet even when pushing boundaries and selecting ingredients, the original brief remains my absolute red thread.
What feeling would you like Unforeseen Aer to inspire?
I wanted above all to evoke a profound, radiant freshness. Not a sharp citrus or aquatic note, but an authentic vegetal freshness that truly expresses the purity of open air and elevates the mind. My intention is for the wearer to feel instantly refreshed, clean, and alluring, surrounded by this sophisticated, charismatic halo. It creates an aura that fills the room and leaves an indelible imprint—something deeply elegant, poetic, and mentally restorative rather than purely sporty.
How did your journey with perfumery begin?
I was born and raised in Grasse, so the language of scent was woven into the fabric of my everyday life from the very beginning. I grew up around the Mediterranean shores, surrounded by women who wore iconic perfumes that shaped my earliest olfactive geography. I also came of age during the 1980s and ’90s—an era of bold, whimsical, and theatrical fragrance campaigns that completely captivated me.
Although I initially set out to work on the brand side and studied business, everything changed during an internship at Mane. The moment I stepped backstage and witnessed the perfumer’s lab—this alchemy of science, emotion, and raw material—I realized that’s where I belonged. I decided to start from scratch and entered the IFF perfumery school.
What are some of those early scent memories from Grasse?
It was the fragrances worn by my loved ones. For my mom, it was Van Cleef & Arpels. My dad wore Christian Dior’s Eau Sauvage. Whenever he was traveling, I would go into his room and smell his pillow. For my grandmother, it was Guerlain’s L’Heure Bleue. At home, I grew up with a Mediterranean garden: the orange blossom, the aromatic fig tree, the pink oleander, the jasmine in the courtyard, the roses in May—there was always something interesting to smell.
I also spent a fair amount of my childhood vacationing in Morocco, which gave me a love for cedarwood and spices, but also an appreciation for foul smells. Why? Because I understood that what makes a smell foul or good is just a question of threshold. In perfumery, a formula may contain a foul note, but in trace amounts, that is precisely what brings depth and addiction to a fragrance.
How do you approach scent in your daily life?
For me, scent is not a finishing touch; it is a foundational, daily architecture. It begins first thing in the morning with lighting incense—often Aesop’s Kagerou or something from Serge Lutens—followed by meditation, and then a dedicated tea ritual where the selection is dictated entirely by its dry leaf and brewed aroma. Even my morning shower is curated through botanical layers, selecting body balms and cleansers that build a textured canvas.
In the evening, the ritual returns. I light incense again, softly misting curtains, hallways, and living spaces. I even like scenting the threshold of my home because when guests arrive, scent should be the first silent host that welcomes them. Scent shouldn’t be reserved for special occasions; it should elevate everyday life with quiet, mindful pleasure.
Has how you wear scent evolved?
Scent is pure self-expression for me now. I wear scents that stand out, not what everyone else is wearing. I used to be much more loyal to a single scent. Now, I really like the idea of a scent wardrobe—changing what I wear depending on the outfit, who I am meeting, and what I want to express within myself.
Where is your favorite place to discover new aromas?
I love exploring the airport duty-free shops. I have actually missed flights because I was so lost in intense discovery there. Beyond that, it’s travel, visiting botanical gardens, stopping people in the street whenever I am surprised by a smell, and immersing myself in nature to rediscover raw ingredients. Recently, I was in Indonesia for a clove bud harvest. Smelling a raw material directly in its natural habitat allowed me to completely rediscover a classic ingredient. It sparked so many new ideas and new pairings that you just can’t get sitting in a lab.
What is an unlikely combination you think pairs perfectly together?
Like in fashion, I love the idea of mixing high and low perfumery—pairing a prestige product with a simple oil, or layering with a body balm that has nothing to do with the fragrance. I also find it fascinating how certain ingredients that seem to have nothing in common olfactively share identical molecules when analyzed chemically. Take oud and pineapple, for example: on paper it sounds unlikely, but chemically it makes total sense, and the pairing becomes obvious. In Entirely Aurner, we paired chamomile and patchouli. You wouldn’t think they have anything in common—chamomile is a delicate flower, yet it creates an incredible friction against the deep woodiness of patchouli.
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