Listen here for the audio version of this edition's feature essay:

Ozempic & Vanilla: Scent is the New Sugar

We track our steps. Our sleep. Our calories.

We live in the era of Ozempic, keto, and 16-hour fasts. Everyone I know is restricting something. Including me.

But the niche launches I'm seeing? Vanilla. Caramel. Coffee. Even mashed potatoes. They’re doing the opposite.

Back in Edition No.19, I wrote about how iconic perfumes represent the emotional essence of their time. Chanel No. 5 bottled female empowerment in the 1920s. Joy offered luxury fantasies during the Great Depression.

So as I observe today’s gourmand boom, I have to ask, what hidden desire are they satisfying? Are scents becoming our new cheat meals?

In the last three years, I've blended more vanilla, caramel, and burnt sugar than in my entire career before that. At first, I thought my clients were chasing trends. But it's not about trends at all.

I think it’s about something deeper.

Fragrance trends show us what we’re feeling. What we’re missing. Something happened to us. Somehow we forgot how to just enjoy things.

In a world of calorie counting, scent has no nutritional label. Maybe gourmand perfumes are the socially acceptable way to indulge?

Brands Are Selling Loss of Control

I spent a weekend researching the advertisements of every major gourmand launch from 2021 to now.

And the same words kept repeating:

Addictive. Irresistible. Indulgent. Delicious.

Over and over again.

Take a look:

• Billie Eilish "Eilish" a scent that creates an instantly addictive experience. It sold out in hours!
• Phlur Vanilla Skin: “hypnotic and decadent. Iconic creaminess."Described as “addictive quality.”
• Parfums de Marly Althaïr: “Elegant hedonism.”

Do you see the pattern?

In a culture obsessed with self-control, the biggest hits are selling the opposite.

They're not selling sugar.

They're selling permission to lose control.

Every bottle says:

It’s okay to crave.

It’s okay to indulge.

It’s okay to let go.

Gourmands Grew Up & Got Dangerous

Here's what changed.

Gourmands used to have a reputation problem.

They were "girly." "Too much."

Cotton-candy body sprays. Britney Spears Fantasy. Sticky sweet 2000s sugar bombs.

By 2010, we'd had enough. The market shifted dramatically toward more “sophisticated” fragrances. Minimalist. Understated. Grown-up.

But the gourmands came back. And they came back different.

Now sweetness comes with extra tructure:

• Vanilla + Leather
• Caramel + Smoke
• Almonds + Oud

These aren’t cupcakes anymore. They’re layered. Textured. Interesting.

And now even serious adults are buying them too!

Here’s why this matters:

Those darker accent notes: woods, spices, resins act like a permission slip. They make sweetness socially acceptable. They turn "I smell like a teenager" into "I smell refined and elegant."

Think about “fat-free” yogurts. “Low-calorie” ice creams. “Zero sugar” sodas.

You can indulge without the “breaking” the rules!

Same thing here. These perfumes are scented replacements for the treats we've banned. Without the dark notes? You wear caramel alone at home. With them? You wear it to work. To dinner. On dates. The sophistication makes it publicly acceptable.

I call these “Inside/Outside Scents.” They do two jobs:

Internally: the sweet notes comfort you.

Externally: the dark notes signal sophisticated taste and confident control.

You feel indulged. You smell elegant.

Zero calories. Zero guilt. All reward.

That's why these scents sell.

I Created a Perfume to Prove It

Last month, I got to test this theory.

At Dubai Beauty World, I presented a neo-gourmand called Caramel Myrrh.

The brief was simple: Create a perfume that gives permission to indulge but make it sophisticated enough for adults to wear in public.

I designed it in three parts:

The Indulgence Layer

Ethyl Vanillin (Comfort): Creamy vanilla. Familiar. Safe. The molecule that says, “you can relax now.”

Caramel Acetate (Temptation): Delicious caramel. Buttery. Slightly burnt. The note that screams eat me. The smell of saying yes.

Bicyclononalactone (Indulgence): Rich, almond-coconut-tonka texture. Adds depth, warmth and richness to the ethyl vanillin.

Together, these three say: Delicious!

The Excuse Layer

Myrrh Oil (Mystery): Intensely warm slightly smoky - incense like. Dark and resinous. Earthy-balsamic. Says "this isn't candy."

Labdanum (Sophistication): Dark amber. Leathery depth. Slightly animalic. Middle Eastern opulence

Cashmeran (Elegance): Radiant and vibrant. Velevty-woody-musky. Warm. Not quite wood, not quite musk. Blends and harmonizes the first two layers together.

These notes give permission to indulge. They make the sweetness feel not guilty.

The Surprise Layer

Galbanum (Edge): Green. Bitter. Metallic. It shouldn’t work with caramel, but that’s the point. It contrasts the sugar, hinting “there’s something unique about this.”

Cardamom (Warmth): Spicy. Aromatic. The scent of Arabic coffee. It lifts the resins. Roots the perfume in place and culture.

Two classy materials which keep things from being too predictable.

The Results Were Clear

The feedback was instant.

Men, women, locals, buyers, almost everyone said the same thing:

“It’s sweet… but not too sweet. Different. Excellent.”

That phrase repeated all weekend.

And that's when it clicked:

“Not too sweet + different” is code for “I have permission to like this.”

The myrrh, labdanum, and spice didn't just balance the formula. They balanced the psychology.

Why it works:

Internally: The sweet layer comforts you. Satisfies the craving. Triggers nostalgia and calm.

Externally: The complex notes signal you're sophisticated, interesting, unique.

People got to indulge without feeling like a little kid. They could enjoy the pleasure and keep their sophisitcated, elegant self-image intact.

It isn’t another “girly” gourmand.

It’s sophisticated indulgence.

More Than A Nice Scent

So yes, gourmands are our cheat meals.

Gourmand perfumes have become our zero-calorie treats in an age of restriction.

And when you think about it:

Boozy scents let us drink without the hangover.

Tobacco accords give us ritual without the damage.

Cannabis notes let us rebell without the risk.

Sometimes, a perfume gives us permission to indulge when everything else tells us not to.

But here's what I keep asking myself: If scent can meet our hidden needs and shape emotion without us noticing…what would happen if we designed them with more intention and awareness?

Shouldn't we get better at understanding which emotions we're shaping? And why?

Because we’re not just blending materials.

We’re creating psychological tools.

Every accord carries weight. Some heal. Some comfort. Some give people the courage.

What do you think? You just read this entire essay. So here’s my question for you:

What emotion do you think you’re satisfying when you reach for something sweet?

I honestly would love to hear what you think.

Scott