There is a quiet alchemy to sitting at my blending table watching different, distinct elements drop into a vial and slow-bleed into one another until they form a single, complex identity. The architecture of a scent mirrors the architecture of a human soul.
Lately, I’ve been wondering whether the truest framework for understanding people isn’t found in a psychology textbook at all, but in the traditional fragrance pyramid of top notes, heart notes, and base notes. While these terms are technically meant to describe molecular weight and evaporation curves, a person, it turns out, is simply a fragrance in motion. We reveal ourselves in layers. We evaporate, bloom, deepen. We linger. We surprise. We contradict ourselves.
And somehow, all of it blends into a life.
Top notes are how we greet the world, how we enter a room, the first hello – bright, volatile, quick to appear. They are lively but soon evaporate, the part of a person you meet at a party or across a counter. They’re the Persona in Jungian terms: charm, wit, nervous sparkle, the social mask that catches the eye but isn’t built to last. Citrus, aldehydes, mint, green leaves – the “hello, I’m here” energies of the world. We’ve all known someone who is pure bergamot at a party. They shimmer beautifully, then vanish the moment the room heats up. For many of us in the queer community, our top notes were our first armour. They were the performative shimmers we put on before we were ready, or safe enough, to let anyone taste our deeper truths. They made a beautiful entrance, but they didn’t define the whole story.
Heart notes are how we love. Once the initial sparkle fades, the mid notes emerge – the emotional spine that holds everything together. This is the Ego: the core character, the values, the emotional weather system that shapes how someone moves through a room once the small talk has burned off. Florals, spices, herbs, tea notes – the slow, authentic unfurling of a person’s true self. Heart-note people are warm, relational, textured. Their humour blooms gradually; their steadiness carries the melody for hours. This is the part of a person you build a life with. If the top notes are the greeting, the heart notes are the conversation that makes you stay.
Base notes are how we endure. They are our inner gravity, the parts of us shaped by memory, temperament, childhood, old wounds, and old loyalties. They can get a bit heavy, but they are still much needed to support the rest of the composition. Woods, resins, musks, amber, leather: the deep hum beneath everything else. Our queer base notes are often dense with history. They hold the sediment of our struggles, the grit of our coming out, the heavy baselines of the families we lost, and the chosen families who anchored us. Base-note people carry intensity, reliability, history. They can overwhelm if experienced entirely alone, but without them, nothing holds. They’re what stays on your scarf the next day – the emotional sediment that refuses to evaporate.
Once you start thinking this way, whole personality types begin to smell familiar:
The Citrus / Bright Cologne (The Optimist): Sparkling, social, refreshing. Joyful in the moment, sometimes restless in the long term.
The Woody / Chypre (The Stoic): Grounded, intellectual, a little reserved at first. Deeply stable once you know them.
The Amber (The Enigma): Warm, emotional, dramatic, unforgettable. A presence that fills the room and lingers.
The Fresh Fougère (The Pragmatist): Clean lines, clear boundaries, structured, dependable. Lavender and oakmoss in human form.
We recognize these people instantly, even without the language of perfumery. I’ve met people who were all top notes, and I’ve loved people who were mostly base, and I’ve spent years learning which of my own notes arrive first.
The Fixative – What Makes Us Last
Every perfumer knows that without a fixative, even the most beautiful composition evaporates too quickly. Our human fixative is self-awareness – the thing that allows the bright, fleeting parts of us to linger long enough to matter. It’s what keeps our top notes from burning out, our heart notes from collapsing, and our base notes from overwhelming us. It’s the quiet discipline of noticing ourselves before we spill. A well-balanced perfume is a kind of emotional equilibrium. It is a tangible reminder that we need the light, the substance, and the gravity – all working together – to become something beautiful that lasts. And the way those layers interact – harmoniously, chaotically, unexpectedly – is exactly what makes us human. It is what makes us beautifully, resiliently queer after everything. It’s the quiet alchemy of being alive, making each of us a scent story still unfolding. We are all still blending.
Queer After Everything 