Scents and Sensibility: The Psychology of Smelling Expensive

If perfume were a scene in a movie, think Breakfast at Tiffany’s meets Inception: glamour that opens a door into someone else’s memory, then folds that memory into your collar. Walk into a room and the scent does the introductions for you, no name, no LinkedIn, just presence. “Smelling expensive” isn’t about price tags so much as punctuation: a little comma of jasmine here, an ellipsis of sandalwood there, and suddenly you are the sentence everyone reads twice.

Because here’s the secret: smelling expensive has quietly become the new social currency. You don’t need a Birkin or a black Amex; you need a fragrance that gives “I am the protagonist of this room”. So what actually makes a scent read luxe? Why do some perfumes walk in five seconds before you do, and others disappear faster than your weekend?

For answers, I turned to two insiders who spend their days decoding desire with data and blending emotion into liquid architecture. Laurent Le Guernec, Senior Perfumer at IFF, is not just accomplished, he’s the olfactory equivalent of a director whose films you’ve loved for years without realising they were all his. He has created scents
for Michael Kors, Estée Lauder, Sarah Jessica Parker, Calvin Klein, Dolce & Gabbana, and even pop royalty like Katy Perry and Beyoncé. The other is Céline Manetta, a consumer-insights specialist who has tested how thousands of people across countries respond emotionally, visually, and even chromatically to scent. If Laurent builds the fantasy, Céline is the one who tells him which fantasies people will pay for.

Together, they revealed why smelling expensive hits a nerve far beyond the beauty aisle, why it taps into identity, aspiration, confidence, and that very human desire to seem just a little bit...more.

Why “expensive” hits us before we even sniff

Laurent grew up between Paris and Grasse, surrounded by women who wore fragrance the way other people wear jewellery. “Perfume was the only luxury item in the house,” he told me, “saved for Sundays, reserved for ceremony.” Even as a child, he learned that a scent could alter a room, without raising its voice.

One of the most revealing things Laurent told me was also the simplest: “You can take the most beautiful ingredient, but if the environment around it isn’t right, people won’t even notice it.” Perfumery, he explained, is less about one star note and more about the architecture around it. He compared it to a famous violinist performing incognito in a subway station, a real story he referenced. Even though the man was a virtuoso, commuters walked past without blinking. “The talent was the same,” Laurent said, “but the frame was wrong. The environment failed the beauty.”

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This is why perfumers spend years learning to “frame” ingredients: a classic floral modernised with creamy coconut shell; a vintage patchouli made contemporary by a clever gourmand twist. Laurent often compares perfumery to cooking. “A great idea can come from a dish,” he said. “Sometimes it’s one ingredient in a restaurant that sparks a new fragrance.”

Decades of global testing at IFF reveal that consumers consistently associate luxury with shades of purple and pink. “Luxurious fragrances tend to be linked with femininity, sensuality, confidence,” Céline said. “And those descriptors map strongly to purple.” We’re in a moment where fragrance has become social media’s new character arc. TikTok has declared that smelling rich is an aesthetic, and the young are obsessed with fragrances that can last and emotionally perform. Céline explains why: “A strong, long-lasting scent boosts confidence. And confidence has become part of luxury.”

Which is why scents are getting bolder again, almost returning to the 1980s era of unapologetically dramatic perfumes. Projection is back. A bit of well-placed olfactory drama is very much back.

Identity is fluid now. Younger people don’t want one signature scent, they want a fragrance wardrobe that shifts with their personality of the day. Céline says our motivation hasn’t changed (“We still wear fragrance to feel good or express ourselves”), but our pace has. The self is now seasonal and episodic.

What fascinated me most was how Laurent modernises traditionally old-fashioned notes. “A new ingredient can transform a classic,” he explained. “We recently got a cocoa shell extract, it adds an addictive twist. Suddenly something familiar becomes exciting again.”

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All of this leads to the single question everyone wonders but rarely asks out loud: So how do you pick something that smells expensive?

There isn’t one right answer, because expensive is not a scent, it’s a feeling.

Céline suggests choosing what makes you feel refined and unique. Laurent believes in trying, comparing, and trusting your instinct. “Perfume is an invisible luxury,” he said. “It’s so personal. You go for what you like.” And perhaps that’s the real psychology of smelling expensive: it offers us a scented version of our best selves. A whisper of confidence. A hint of composure. A soft, fragrant illusion that lingers long after the moment has passed.

Smelling expensive, then, isn’t about wealth. It’s about intention. A way of moving through the world with a quiet, fragrant boundary. A whisper of who you are or who you’d like to be today.

And unlike most luxury statements, this one lingers even after you’ve left the room.

Also read:

I Got My Best-Smelling Friends To Spill Their Fragrance Hacks—What Did I Learn?

Spicy Scents For Sweater Weather: Luxe Fragrances Worth Falling For