Welcome to Note to Self, Refinery29’s fragrance series exploring perfume beyond the bottle. Through intimate stories and scent memories, we’re unpacking the emotions, experiences, and identities behind the fragrances we wear — and why they can become such a deeply meaningful part of who we are.

I’ve spent most of my life believing that beautiful things were not meant for ordinary days. Growing up working-class, anything that felt like a luxury came with a quiet set of rules: You looked after it. You made it last. You didn’t use it up too quickly, because replacing it wasn’t always an option. As such, a favorite jumper was saved for occasions; a new pair of shoes was kept box-fresh for as long as possible. And perfume — especially perfume — was something to be rationed.

​The bottles I received for birthdays were some of the most special things I owned. They felt grown-up and extravagant, a little glimpse into a life where I could buy things I loved without worrying about the cost. But because they were so precious, every spray became a decision. I used to think: Was today really worth using it?

Then my aunt died.

While clearing out her belongings, we opened her wardrobe and found bottles of her favorite perfumes: Cacharel Anaïs Anaïs and Nina Ricci L’Air du Temps — all unopened, waiting.

I realized my aunt’s perfume wasn’t just about fragrance. It was about all the things we put off enjoying until we believe we’ve earned them.

I can’t explain exactly why that sight affected me so much. On the surface, they were just bottles of fragrance, but they represented something much bigger: all of the little pleasures we postpone while waiting for a day that feels more worthy — the celebrations we imagine are coming or the version of ourselves that finally deserves to use the “good” things.

My mom looked at those untouched bottles and said something I’ve never forgotten: “You see, this is why you should never save anything. Wear everything, as it matters — like it’s your last day. Even if it’s just for going to the store. You love it, so you wear it.”

That last sentence has stayed with me ever since, because the more I thought about those unopened bottles, the more I realized my aunt’s perfume wasn’t just about fragrance — it was about all the things we put off enjoying until we believe we’ve earned them. Since then, I’ve found myself questioning why we are so quick to save things that bring us joy. Why does a favorite perfume feel too special for Monday morning? Why do we wait for birthdays, holidays, and big occasions before allowing ourselves to enjoy something we already love?

Jessie Wilner, founder of Discothèque fragrances, helped me put it into words: “We’re conditioned to save [things] for important occasions because modern life is modeled around these supposedly seismic events,” she tells me. Sure enough, friends say they have bottles they only wear for weddings, anniversaries, or vacations. One admitted she’d owned the same expensive bottle for years because she was saving it for something “important.” Another said she kept hers in its original box so it would stay as “pristine” as possible. My sister-in-law has a Diptyque Figuier candle she was given for her 30th birthday that she still hasn’t lit. Whenever I ask why, she just says, “It’s too good to light.”

Likewise, I used to fiercely guard my birthday perfume with my life. One year, it was Prada Paradoxe — all tangerine, jasmine, and warm musk — sprayed so sparingly I almost counted every spritz. The next year: Issey Miyake L’Eau d’Issey, with its watery lotus, fresh lilies, and soft woods; then Estée Lauder Bronze Goddess, with creamy coconut, tiare flower, and vanilla. Each one felt like proof that I had been given something extravagant, and I treated it accordingly: special outfits, special plans, special moods only. But this, says Wilner, means we forget to romanticize the condition of existence. In an increasingly tough world, that matters more than ever.

I understand the thought process. Maybe it comes from growing up without much to spare or the way we’re taught to protect expensive things, to preserve luxury, to keep them untouched for a moment that feels important enough. When money is tight, using something luxurious can feel oddly irresponsible, as if every spray needs to be justified. Even now, with what I think of as “adult money”, I still catch myself calculating whether my Christian Dior Bois Talisman or Diptyque Orpheon is worth wearing for a supermarket trip or a day spent working from home. 

Elodie Durande, perfumer at Ffern, thinks many of us have been conditioned to believe expensive things should only be enjoyed occasionally. The idea of treating perfume as something precious goes back generations. Historically, fragrance was used in religious practices and as a marker of wealth and status. While perfume has become more commercialized, it’s still often treated as something to be saved. “Perfume is such a luxury item, and there’s only a finite amount that comes in a bottle,” Durande tells me. Sure enough, Scento reports that luxury perfume prices rose sharply globally between 2020 and 2025, with raw materials, marketing, and packaging all contributing to higher costs. If you can afford these luxuries, though, Durande says that they deserve to live in the present: “To get the best of them, you need to use them, and enjoy the experience.”

Left untouched on a shelf, perfume just liquid in a glass. Worn on an ordinary morning, though, it becomes part of a memory, a mood, and a version of yourself moving through the day.

She also raised something I hadn’t considered: the notion that pleasure must be earned. “I think sometimes we feel we need to work to deserve life’s luxuries,” she says, but she also asks, “If you’re always saving something special for when you go out, are you wearing it for others [or] for yourself?”

That question lingered long after the conversation ended. I realized I’d been saving perfume for the moment I felt most presentable and impressive; working from home had only made it easier to convince myself there was no point wearing it at all. But as Wilner says, “Scents are just another way to connect with yourself and others. They don’t have to mark the moments that matter; they can be part of what makes them matter.” Left untouched on a shelf, it’s just liquid in a glass. Worn on an ordinary morning, though, it becomes part of a memory, a mood, and a version of yourself moving through the day.

Sarah McCartney, perfume enthusiast and founder of curated fragrance store Soliflore, tells me she sees this realization in customers all the time: “The right moment is today,” she says. “We can’t predict tomorrow, and there’s no guarantee a special occasion will come along that feels worthy enough. If a fragrance makes you feel confident, comforted, or simply happy, then that’s reason enough to wear it.” The joy comes from wearing it, not collecting it, says McCartney, which is the exact opposite of the mindset I’d grown up with, but one I’m learning to embrace.

Eudora Nwasike, a certified fragrance specialist and content creator, arrived at the same conclusion through a much more personal experience. After her father passed away in 2022, she talks about one of the greatest lessons he left her with — to never wait for a special occasion. “Every waking day counts as a special occasion, because nothing in life is promised,” she tells me. “Don’t deny yourself little pockets of joy in a rough world. Wear your fragrances, expensive or affordable.” Her favorites include Amouage Purpose Eau de Parfum, plus the more affordable Zara Fashionably London Elixir Parfum and Phlur Cherry Stem Eau de Parfum, to name a few.

Certainly, there’s some science behind those little pockets of joy, too. One recent study found that pleasant fragrances may boost positive emotions and improve social interactions. Another study found that certain scents, such as lavender and ylang-ylang, could enhance mental performance and focus. With that in mind, ​my Jo Malone Sea Salt & Bergamot Cologne now sees the grocery store aisles. Discothèque’s Baise Moi on The Dancefloor comes with me on dog walks. Acqua di Parma Rosa Nobile has accepted that each spritz now includes emails, errands, and occasionally standing in the kitchen wondering what to make for dinner.

So I’ll leave you with a very small act of rebellion: I’m no longer saving anything for best. Now, every spritz of the fragrance I own feels like a small act of gratitude, a reminder to use what I love while I’m here to enjoy it. Perhaps that’s the lesson my aunt taught me without ever knowing it: the things we love aren’t meant to be preserved for a life that hasn’t happened yet. They’re meant to be part of the one we have now.

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