I Am Sick and Tired of Fragrances That Smell Like My Own Skin
All products featured on Allure are independently selected by Allure editors. However, when you buy something through our retail links, Condé Nast may earn an affiliate commission.
What does your skin smell like right now? Does it smell like vanilla, sheer musk, or soap? Is it powdery and fresh or creamy and inviting? Do you detect soft woody notes, a hint of rose, or perhaps a bit of iris and pink pepper?
If you answered “yes” to the last one, chances are you’re probably wearing Glossier You, the beauty brand’s mega-successful hero fragrance, a bottle of which is sold about every 20 seconds. It promised to be the “ultimate personal fragrance,” mingling with your body chemistry to smell like, well, you. Since its 2017 arrival, You has arguably become the 21st century equivalent to Chanel No. 5 or Thierry Mugler Angel: a scent so ubiquitous, so beloved, so popular that it shakes up the entire industry.
And shake up the fragrance industry it certainly did. Following Glossier’s suit, dozens of fragrance brands ranging from tiny indies to department store mainstays have developed skin-inspired scents, which are generally composed of gentle amber, musk, and wood notes. They revitalized an already-existing (think Kiehl’s Musk, which launched in 1963, and Sarah Jessica Parker’s Lovely from 2005) but relatively dormant fragrance category that now doesn’t seem to be fading any time soon.
We are deep in this fragrance era, my friends. As Allure reported in late 2024, the ever-popular gourmand fragrance category is shifting even further away from its traditional vanilla-forward formats and are instead leaning into milky and rice notes—which just so happen to blend right in with skin-centric notes like musk and ambroxan. Does this mean we’ve reached peak skin scent? I’m gonna go ahead and say yes—and beg everyone to try something new.
I’m fully aware of why it seems like every new fragrance has the word “skin” in its name or its marketing copy. If it’s selling, why change it? Fragrance trends are cyclical; just as the popularity of certain denim silhouettes wax and wane, so too do the purchasing public’s perfume preferences. We saw a similar movement back in the early ‘90s, when airy, fresh scents (Calvin Klein’s CK One, Issey Miyake’s L’Eau de Issey) became popular as a response to the opulent, clear-the-room scents of the ‘80s (Giorgio Beverly Hills, Dior Poison). It makes sense that we’d be so eager to go back to basics after syrupy fruitchoulis, spicy ouds, and Santal 33s dominated the 2010s. Our noses were tired! The cultural climate was changing!
Back in the day, major brands only released a few fragrances a year, but now hundreds of scents can hit the market in a fraction of the time, and each of them is an attempt to capitalize on runaway successes like that of Glossier You. This same phenomenon happened with Santal 33 and the recent resurgence of vanilla fragrances. It’s a tale as old as time, and trends are even more inescapable than ever in our plugged-in world of TikTok hauls and YouTube reviews. If it feels like you’re being spritzed with skin scents from all angles, that’s because you are. A little fatigue is natural.
The thing is, I like skin scents! The category itself is right in my olfactory wheelhouse; I enjoy a good musk perfume, and I live for an old-fashioned aldehydic fragrance, like the aforementioned Chanel No. 5. (Aldehydes are molecules that add “lift” to a scent and often smell soapy or fizzy, like champagne bubbles. Byredo’s Blanche is a comparable “modern” option.) There’s nothing wrong with skin scents—in fact, most of them are perfectly nice. But can you blame me for feeling a little bored and burnt out when everything I take a whiff of smells the same? Will we ever want to smell loud again? (And don’t get me started on the whole “it changes based on your skin chemistry” thing—every fragrance does that.)
Skin scents simply don’t challenge me the way more complex creations do. The latter forces me to step out of my olfactory comfort zone and find new notes and accords to love… and sometimes hate. I adore spending a day with a big, bombastic scent and letting it open up, identifying different facets of it as the hours pass. A Lab on Fire’s scent And The World Is Yours may start with a wallop of grape Tootsie Pop, but over time, it reveals itself to be a plush, cushy neroli vanilla. That’s a challenge. I like to find beauty in the ugly and vice versa, like how indolic jasmine smells like luscious blooms to some noses and poop or decay to others. I find that dichotomy fascinating, and it’s one of the things I love most about perfumery—the ability to take a big risk and find the people who gravitate toward it or at least appreciate that intriguing complexity.
I don’t want to smell like myself! I want to smell fancy and rich!
Today, some of the most beautiful fragrances in the world, like Guerlain’s eternal Shalimar and my beloved No. 5, are derided as “old lady perfumes,” and the appreciation for the art of perfumery seems to be dwindling in favor of hopping on a trend or spritzing to the status quo. When everything smells the same, we lose one of the most powerful parts of perfumery: the joy of discovery and the magic of imagination, using your senses to tell a story with your scent.
The world has become so much more casual than it was in the ‘50s and even the ‘80s—men wear Patagonia vests to the office and no one dresses up for the airport anymore, myself included—and our scents have changed with it, going from glamorous and bombastic to unassuming and quiet. We’ve stripped our homes and wardrobes of color in favor of neutrals… must we do so with our fragrances, too?
The entire reason I wear perfume is to create an aura or match my mood for the day. I don’t want to smell like myself! I want to smell fancy and rich! I want to let everyone know I’ve arrived before I’ve even set foot in a room—and leave a trail floating behind me on my way out. I wear a sexy, dramatic scent like Chanel’s Coco (not Mademoiselle) or Paris Paris for a night out with my husband. I love a chypre during cashmere sweater season; my favorites are Le Labo’s Ylang 49 and Clinique’s Aromatics Elixir. When I need to feel confident, I reach for a patchouli rose like Frederic Malle’s Portrait of a Lady. My most-complimented scent is Estée Lauder’s symphonic ‘80s floral Beautiful, so make of what what you will.
As we head into yet another four years of political unease, perhaps the perfume pendulum will swing back to more vibrant, cheerful scents with mood-boosting citrus or light floral notes, or maybe skin scents will continue their winning streak as we collectively seek coziness and comfort. But may I suggest a powerful patchouli or a big white floral instead? Go ahead, try something out of your comfort zone. Now is not the time to be demure.
Want more fragrance recs? We've got you:
Now, watch Martha Stewart's AM routine:
Follow Allure on Instagram and TikTok, or subscribe to our newsletter to stay up to date on all things beauty.
Originally Appeared on Allure
