meet Shabnam Tavakol, the perfumer behind NYC’s Kismet Olfactive, who transforms serendipitous moments into wearable narratives. Named after the Persian word qismat, meaning fate, Kismet honours her family's remarkable journey—her parents' courageous escape from Iran during the 1979 Revolution. Her work draws from a rich tapestry of influences: 1960s counterculture, experimental storytelling, Eastern philosophies, and the intersection of ancient Eastern scent practices with classic French perfumery.
How did your journey as a perfumer begin, and what has shaped it along the way?
I think about this question a lot. Like where did this journey really begin? It feels like where one part of the journey began, another ended, and vice versa. One version of this journey begins as a child, in relation to my Persian family and culture. I wasn't allowed to wear anything my parents considered "flashy"—which felt like literally everything—and no makeup. But I'd receive these beautiful perfume bottles from my aunts: smelling and wearing those fragrances was a way for me to "dress up," to express myself, and begin to get curious about scents, to some degree.
Another part of the journey flashes forward to when I was about 20, working at a boutique in Venice, California. I remember that we received a delivery from a perfume brand based in Topanga Canyon, and I thought to myself, “Wow, how cool to make perfumes for a living!” From that point on, I started buying every book on perfume I could get my hands on. I slowly started buying essential oils and experimented with little accords and really was into the healing properties of essential oils at that point.
Fast forward again some years: in New York City I began to work for two brands at very opposite ends of the perfumery spectrum—Le Labo and Enfleurage. At Le Labo, I learned so much about blending, language, and the commercial aspects of perfumery. At Enfleurage I really deep-dove into natural perfumery, aromatherapy, and sourcing. When I think back now, all those preliminary years of exploration and discovery were integral to my understanding of things like running a business and client-facing relations. But I would say my "real" journey as a perfumer—at least up to this point—started when I moved to France and attended school at The Grasse Institute of Perfumery.
What emotions or memories do you hope to capture in your creations?
As being an extremely emotional and feelings-forward person, I like (and hope) to make people feel through my fragrances. Whether that be nostalgia, sensuality, joy, or even just a sense of empowerment in their own individuality. I really try my best to tell stories through scent and strive to take the wearer somewhere, emotionally speaking, to transport and transform them in that moment of engaging with the scent. In "Nostalgia (A Sonnet for Grasse)," for example, I was really trying to capture a feeling I'd been having after finishing my time at school in Grasse. The scent is structured on leather accords that are meant to capture Grasse's history as a center of leather tanning in the Middle Ages, and then the floral notes celebrate Grasse's famous flower fields. I then added my own touch of anise notes at the top as a nod to the past is I'd drink after school while I was experimenting with raw materials. So, in that sense, Nostalgia is on one level based on these very personal memories and emotions, but it's also meant to capture something on a larger and more collective level, I think, in terms of the layered cultural and historical memories of the place itself.
As an artist who works primarily with scent, what is your relationship to our other senses?
Working through olfaction has for sure heightened my awareness of the other senses. Scent and taste are so closely interconnected in our bodies—I'd say that particular connection is most closely tied for me. I taste what I smell and smell what I taste. Many perfumers describe having some degree of synesthesia, actually, experiencing scent through other senses. I think that–because scent is intangible–we tend to experience smell through at least one other sense, if not multiple. Or at least we tend to express our experience of scent through other, more familiar senses, in figurative and metaphorical comparisons. We describe a scent visually, as "bright"; through touch, as "smooth"; through taste, as "sweet"; or through sound, as "soft." And then there are some people who literally see colors or hear different pitches when they smell different raw materials. It's like those mathematical savants who experience numbers as colors and textures and sounds.
I love this about olfaction, this blurring of the senses, the synesthesia. I'm fascinated by this story about Claude Monet and how his deteriorating eyesight may have contributed to the development of his Impressionistic style. Where we humans reach the limits of one sense, we turn to another to fill in the gaps—we blur and merge our senses. hat's what I was trying to capture in "Nymphéas."
How do the landscapes, textures, and cultures that surround you find their way into your practice?
Travel and culture are a primary part of my life and who I am, so naturally they play a very large part in my work. As I said before, many of my works are based on places and personal experiences. That was the case with "Nostalgia"—that attempt to capture the landscape and history and culture of Grasse through the different scent layers and raw materials.
“Wedding in Oaxaca” is another fragrance that's very closely tied to a specific moment and experience in my life—celebrating one of my best friend's wedding down in Oaxaca, Mexico. As soon as the ceremony finished, the entire group hundreds of friends and family and guest– paraded down the avenue, led by a mariachi band and these giant traditional dancing puppets.We were all passing around mezcal, and there were these strings of gardenias among the crowd—all of that, that symphony of bright Oaxacan colours and brass instruments and tastes and smells and pure joy really moved me, and I wanted to memorialize that moment through scent.
What is the story of your perfume Tuberose Tantra?
Tuberose is a flower I had never smelled until perfumery school. I was instantly obsessed… and I mean literally obsessed. After visiting a tuberose farm for a field trip, I immediately went to the local florist and bought a bouquet of tuberose for myself. I carried the flowers around with me like a pet. I walked around town with them, took them to the grocery store, even slept with them in my bed, literally, so I could breathe them in as I fell asleep and woke up. They cast a sort of mystical and magical spell over me. I had to make a fragrance that highlighted not only this flower, but also the sensual allure it carried for me.
discover the perfume in our discovery set:
As an artist who works primarily with scent, what is your relationship to our other senses?
Working through olfaction has for sure heightened my awareness of the other senses. Scent and taste are so closely interconnected in our bodies—I'd say that particular connection is most closely tied for me. I taste what I smell and smell what I taste. Many perfumers describe having some degree of synesthesia, actually, experiencing scent through other senses. I think that–because scent is intangible–we tend to experience smell through at least one other sense, if not multiple. Or at least we tend to express our experience of scent through other, more familiar senses, in figurative and metaphorical comparisons. We describe a scent visually, as "bright"; through touch, as "smooth"; through taste, as "sweet"; or through sound, as "soft." And then there are some people who literally see colors or hear different pitches when they smell different raw materials. It's like those mathematical savants who experience numbers as colors and textures and sounds.
I love this about olfaction, this blurring of the senses, the synesthesia. I'm fascinated by this story about Claude Monet and how his deteriorating eyesight may have contributed to the development of his Impressionistic style. Where we humans reach the limits of one sense, we turn to another to fill in the gaps—we blur and merge our senses. hat's what I was trying to capture in "Nymphéas."
How do the landscapes, textures, and cultures that surround you find their way into your practice?
Travel and culture are a primary part of my life and who I am, so naturally they play a very large part in my work. As I said before, many of my works are based on places and personal experiences. That was the case with "Nostalgia"—that attempt to capture the landscape and history and culture of Grasse through the different scent layers and raw materials.
“Wedding in Oaxaca” is another fragrance that's very closely tied to a specific moment and experience in my life—celebrating one of my best friend's wedding down in Oaxaca, Mexico. As soon as the ceremony finished, the entire group hundreds of friends and family and guest– paraded down the avenue, led by a mariachi band and these giant traditional dancing puppets.We were all passing around mezcal, and there were these strings of gardenias among the crowd—all of that, that symphony of bright Oaxacan colours and brass instruments and tastes and smells and pure joy really moved me, and I wanted to memorialize that moment through scent.
What is the story of your perfume Tuberose Tantra?
Tuberose is a flower I had never smelled until perfumery school. I was instantly obsessed… and I mean literally obsessed. After visiting a tuberose farm for a field trip, I immediately went to the local florist and bought a bouquet of tuberose for myself. I carried the flowers around with me like a pet. I walked around town with them, took them to the grocery store, even slept with them in my bed, literally, so I could breathe them in as I fell asleep and woke up. They cast a sort of mystical and magical spell over me. I had to make a fragrance that highlighted not only this flower, but also the sensual allure it carried for me.
