The Myth of Gender in Fragrance: Shadows, Memory , and Scent Beyond Labels
Step into any department store and you will see the divide as clear as a painted line: one side awash in pink florals and sugared vanillas, the other bristling with dark woods and polished chrome. For decades, fragrance has been packaged and sold as either “for her” or “for him.” But scent itself has no gender. It slips through the air, clings to fabric, lingers on skin, never asking who it belongs to.
At Hemlock & Hearth, I have always believed fragrance is less about labels and more about resonance. The notes we are drawn to do not care what aisle they were marketed in. They speak to memory, desire, and ritual in deeply personal ways.
A History of Boundaries That Never Truly Existed
For most of history, fragrance was not gendered at all. In ancient Egypt, men and women alike anointed themselves with kyphi, a blend of resins, honey, and wine. In medieval Europe, everyone carried pomanders filled with herbs and musk to mask the city’s foul air. Lavender was as likely to be used by soldiers as by housewives. Rose was worn by kings and queens alike.
It seems as though it was not until the twentieth century that perfume houses began to split fragrance into “masculine” and “feminine” categories. This was a marketing choice rather than a natural truth. Woods, leather, and tobacco were assigned to men. Florals, gourmands, and delicate fruits were boxed in for women. That divide tells us more about advertising than about the human relationship with scent.
Resonance Beyond Labels
One of my favorite parts of creating with Hemlock & Hearth is seeing how people respond differently to the same fragrance. A man once told me Duskridge Rose reminded him of his grandmother’s old garden and made him feel grounded, not delicate. A woman who bought Ashborne said the smoky wood felt like stepping into her own power.
I also carry my own stories into this work. Some of the personal fragrances I wear that make me feel most confident and feminine are the ones that marketing would call “masculine/mens scents” .I am drawn to smoke, leather, spice, and incense when I want to feel powerful. At the same time, I know men in my life who love a sweet gourmand more than anything. They will burn a candle layered with vanilla and caramel or wear a perfume with sugar and fruit because it feels joyful.
People often compliment us on the fluidity of our scents.
My focus is on creating experiences and feel scent is not meant to be confined to one side of a shelf.
Why It Matters to Hemlock & Hearth
Hemlock & Hearth was never meant to fit neatly in a box. Our scents live in the liminal space between shadow and light, sweetness and smoke, memory and invention. They are invitations, not prescriptions. These candles are meant to create atmosphere and tell stories, not to uphold categories that never belonged to fragrance in the first place.
When someone leans into a candle, inhales deeply, and says, “This feels like me,” I know we have succeeded. Not because they chose something designed for their gender, but because they chose something that resonates with their story.
An Invitation
Fragrance does not know gender. It knows memory, longing, and the way it clings to your skin or your space like a whispered story. My hope is that Hemlock & Hearth always gives you space to explore scent without boundaries. To choose what feels like home, like power, like beauty.
So the next time you pick up one of our fragrances forget the labels.
Ask instead: what calls to me? What reminds me of the life I have lived, or the one I want to create?
Because in the end, fragrance is not about who it is “for.”
It is about who it becomes on you.