Kilian Hennessy Talks Top Fragrances, Brands & More
My obsession with fragrance started with writing a thesis. I was trying to answer the question: how do you communicate a sense when there is no common vocabulary? If you hear the sound of a piano, for example, it’s the same whether you’re American, British or French. But in fragrance, while we do have a shared vocabulary, it’s really only accessible to perfumers because we work with around 3,000 different notes. About 95% of these are synthetic molecules or molecules derived from nature that have been isolated individually. Take the smell of freshly cut grass. If you’re a fragrance fan, you might say, “I love the smell of cut grass.” But a perfumer would say, “I love the smell of (Z)-3-hexenal,” because that’s the molecule responsible for that particular smell. That vocabulary isn’t really available to anyone outside of the industry.
My path became clear once I realised I had to put my nose in front of those ingredients. I ended up attending perfumery school during my fifth year at university. I remember the first day I started smelling individual ingredients very clearly. I smelled a molecule called methyl octine carbonate, which gives off a green, violet-like note. It’s a key ingredient in Christian Dior’s ‘Fahrenheit’, a fragrance I’d always loved. When I smelled it, I thought, “Oh my God, this is ‘Fahrenheit’, almost encapsulated in a single ingredient.” If there’s one ingredient that really sparked something in me – that desire to work in the industry – methyl octine carbonate is one of them.
Since the beginning, I’ve been drawn to heavy, dry-down bases. Some perfumers prefer working with top notes, others with florals but I’m drawn to the sensuality and depth of woody, leathery and vanilla notes. The smell of oak barrels drenched in eau de vie, for example, is really a combination of rum, woods, vanilla and smoky notes – all the things I love working with. I have no proof that growing up next to Hennessy sellers influenced my preference for those notes, but in some way, it must have played a part.
In the beginning, it was actually the bar – the store design concept – that came first. Once the bar started taking shape as the centrepiece of our stores, I thought, a bar without liquor or cocktails is very sad. So, as soon as the prototype became a reality, I started working on the liquor collection. We launched the two together very quickly, along with the carafe and frosted tumbler, so everything felt like part of the same world. From the beginning, I knew cocktails would eventually be the next step.
The word ‘luxury’ means everything and nothing. At my grandfather’s house in Cognac, you could say there was a great deal of luxury but by today’s standards, it probably wouldn’t have been considered luxurious. It was simply a matter of taste. I remember my grandfather saying the reason Hennessy had more than 50% of the cognac market was because it had always ensured the quality of its product remained unchanged. It would never compromise on that. That’s probably the greatest lesson I received from my family: luxury is longevity.
That’s also why I made all my bottles refillable. When I started designing them, I realised I was investing so much in craftsmanship, yet fragrance is ultimately a disposable industry. Once a bottle is empty, what do you do with it? You throw it away. From day one, I wanted to challenge that. The bottle you buy is one you can keep for the rest of your life. For me, refillability is simply about going back to the truth of fragrance – to the way it used to be made, when craftsmanship and longevity were part of its value.
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Creating a fragrance is like a puzzle. You know the theme but you don’t know exactly how it’s going to end up. I usually have an idea of what I want to create, whether that’s an emotion or something more precise, like a piña colada. I know exactly what a piña colada tastes like, so I want to recreate that same sensation through scent. But then you have to decide where to take it. Do you want it to be very pineapple-forward, with less coconut or do you want the perfect balance between the two? Those decisions happen along the way. It’s a little like being a chef and tasting as you go: is it too salty? Too spicy? For me, I know I’ve finished when I put the final piece into the puzzle and hear that little click. That’s when I know the scent is complete. Sometimes it takes time – ‘Her Majesty’ took me two years to finish.
Inspiration depends on the collection. The Liquors are inspired by hard liquor; cocktails by cocktails, so it’s quite direct. But more generally, I’d say the emotion I feel when I travel is often a great source of inspiration.
It’s the customers who decide what stays in the collection, not me. There are so many scents I’ve loved wearing myself that simply didn’t sell. In general, the fragrances that are a little easier to wear tend to have more appeal than the really edgy ones. That said, I also have to think about the collection as a whole. The marketing team might say, “We don’t have that kind of harmony in the brand. We need a scent that’s more leathery.” Or, “I know this isn’t one of our bestsellers, but we need a cologne. Every brand needs one.” So, while I’m always guided by what the customer responds to, I’m also trying to make sure we cover the full olfactory spectrum – that there’s something for everyone. If I had to introduce somebody to the brand for the first time, the three scents I’d want them to try are ‘Angels’ Share’, ‘Love, Don't Be Shy’ and ‘Good Girl Gone Bad’.
There’s a scent I’ve been trying to create for 15 years. I wake up very early in the morning, so I’m usually out of bed early, having a coffee – and my grandfather was the same. When I was at his house in Cognac, it would often just be the two of us sitting in the living room. He used to wear Eau Sauvage from 1966, and he would even wet his hair with it, so his hair was completely saturated with perfume. At the same time, he would be smoking a very specific tobacco in his pipe. For the last 15 years, I’ve been working on that combination of tobacco, citrus and the aromatic notes of Eau Sauvage, trying to recreate and recapture the smell of that room, that moment in the air. I’m still working on it.
There’s a lot more interest in fragrance among men today. All my scents are unisex, so I don’t actually know the exact percentage of men and women buying them. We estimate it’s roughly 45% men and 55% women. I do think there’s a much greater interest in fragrance among men because, traditionally, the spectrum offered to them was very narrow. Brands would give men fresh, aromatic scents – ‘Cool Water’, ‘Drakkar Noir’, ‘Eternity’, ‘Tommy Hilfiger’, ‘Acqua di Giò’ – essentially the same clean, fresh, long-lasting aromatic profile, with the occasional amber scent. Today, because we don’t divide fragrance into “for men” and “for women”, we can offer a much broader olfactory spectrum to everyone. I have so many men who wear Love, Don’t Be Shy or Good Girl Gone Bad.
The next frontier is finding ways to work with natural ingredients while preserving the environment. A perfumer once gave me an image that really stayed with me. He said that if we took every fragrance on the market that currently contains a synthetic rose note and replaced it with natural rose, we would need to plant more than the entire European continent with roses – and even then, it wouldn’t be enough. The future therefore lies in recreating the DNA of natural ingredients in a way that gives you the same sense of quality and authenticity, while being much better for the environment. There’s a huge amount of research going into this.
I also think new molecules will always be an important part of the future. Perfume houses invest a lot in research and development to discover new olfactory molecules. I always think of it like giving a painter new colours every year. Imagine how exciting – and potentially crazy – that would be. Perfumers are lucky enough to have that experience: every year, they’re given new notes to play with and those new materials will always drive creativity.
You should never judge a fragrance on a blotter. For me, the only judge is the skin. When I’m in the lab working with a perfumer, we’ll initially smell the fragrance on a blotter to quickly check whether there’s an issue – perhaps one ingredient is too dominant or something isn’t quite right. But as soon as we’ve done that, it needs to go on to the skin. The team knows that when I come into the lab, nobody is allowed to wear body lotion. I want the skin to be as neutral as possible so we can properly judge the fragrance. And if you’re not sure about a fragrance, don’t make a decision immediately. Take a sample home and wear it for a couple of days. See how it develops on your skin, how it makes you feel and whether you still love it.
I admit I’m obsessive about everything. I never make an impulse purchase. With furniture, for example, I’ve developed a very specific taste. I don’t like simple pieces or clean lines – I want to see the craftsmanship behind them. I have a lot of bronze pieces at home because it’s such a hard material, but it can be worked and sculpted in incredible detail. There’s an American designer from the 1950s, Paul Evans, whose work I really admire. I’m very particular about my surroundings. Even the palette at home is quite restrained – off-white, browns and dark wood. I’ve created a framework that makes me feel at peace, and I tend to stay within it. At least for now.
Finally, I don’t really believe in signature scents. I believe in people doing exactly what they feel like doing. I'm not really someone who loves constraint. I like freedom.
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