Fragrance Editor Audrey Robinovitz and independent perfumer Marissa Zappas talk the smell of empty houses, symbolic violets, and everything that makes life worth living.
Marissa Zappas is an independent perfumer who lives and works in New York City. Her work runs the gamut between irreverent gourmands that have enjoyed viral success online, and evocative offline collaborations with artists, poets, playwrights, and astrologers. Drawing inspiration from overlooked historical figures, the cinematic career of Elizabeth Taylor, and the historic landscape of New York experimental film – she currently functions as one of the eccentric figureheads for a nascent movement of self-made and independently-marketed perfume houses appealing to a deeply personal and conceptual model of buying and wearing luxury fragrance. Carving out her own niche in this landscape, the fully realized and rebranded repertoire of thirteen plus fragrances bearing her name now stands for most things gothic, camp, fantastical, and otherwise playfully anachronistic in contemporary olfaction. Today, she sits down with perfume critic Audrey Robinovitz to talk both work and play.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Audrey Robinovitz: Hi Marissa! It’s an honor to finally get to talk with you more in depth. I’ve been a fan of both your own perfume and your presence in the niche perfume community for a while.
Marissa Zappas: Thank you, likewise.
AR: I’ll start simple. What fragrances have you been wearing recently?
MZ: A fragrance I’m working on for Miranda July.
AR: More in the realm of creation: do you have a favorite floral absolute?
MZ: If I had to choose, tuberose or mimosa.
AR: It can often be frustrating for me, working in niche perfume sales, to see how stigmatized synthetics have become, given how ubiquitous and useful they are in perfumery. I find something like cosmone musk to be such a fascinating raw material, and feel like it has an equal amount of nuance to a fine natural extract. Are there any synthetics you couldn’t live without?
MZ: Too many. People who turn their noses up at synthetics don’t understand that most synthetics are actually safer for skin, as well as the environment, compared to naturals… Honestly, we need to just let them shop for perfume at Whole Foods or Erewhon instead.
AR: This is a very biased question to ask, and maybe just something I’ve always wanted to ask you on a personal level – but do you have a favorite Diptyque fragrance? I seem to remember you mentioning L’eau Trois, which is one of my all-time favorite things Diptyque has made.
MZ: Yeah, I love that one. I also enjoy Ofresia and Olene.
AR: Those are such great choices. Olene was the first niche perfume I ever bought myself, so it holds a special place in my heart. Ofresia was also done by Olivia Giacobetti, so it's one of the few things she did for us.
MZ: Right.
AR: I think people often associate fragrance memories with adolescence, because they have a way of sticking around for a really long time - do you have any scent memories that bring you back to periods of your life that weren't your childhood? For me, I’ll always associate star jasmine, or that very specific type of what they call “confederate jasmine” down here, with being a teenager in South Carolina.
MZ: Oh wow. The scent memory that’s coming to mind that I’ve never totally been conscious of before is the smell of a newly remodeled house. Like fresh carpet and paint. My mom has this chronic habit of flipping houses, so we would always be moving and remodeling.
AR: That’s really interesting, my dad did real estate for a little bit too, so I always remember walking around houses that had nothing in them – which is a really specific feeling.
MZ: That’s like another part of the sensory experience I think, and they would just gradually get filled with some of our stuff, but it was usually cheap furniture, because we would never stay there too long.
AR: Your practice has been in my mind a lot as niche perfumery becomes more and more quote-unquote “trendy” – I love to see perfumers and houses at large that can capture the imaginations of people who are completely new to fragrance, and also gain notoriety among more seasoned collectors. If you could show three iconic fragrances to a complete novice looking to explore niche perfume, which would you pick?
MZ: I don’t think a lot of current “niche” is actually iconic. Shalimar is iconic… I think Champagne by YSL is iconic. Green Irish Tweed. Mitsouko. I’m the wrong person to ask this question. I went shopping at Place Vendome recently looking to fall in love with a perfume and willing to spend money and walked away empty-handed…
AR: There’s a lot of really mediocre perfume right now! Especially in more mainstream shopping circuits.
AR: Sorry this question is going to be long, but its something I think about all the time. As the market for niche fragrances becomes more and more expansive, what are your thoughts on claiming provocative fantasy accords (blood, glass, snow, etc) to generate enticing marketing, versus the intentional replication of abstract smells to exist in a larger more traditional composition? I think of your inclusion of a “gunpowder note” in CHING SHIH existing alongside Orris and Othsmathus is successful in the same way something like Comme des Garcons 2011’s uses accords of Industrial Glue and Scotch Tape accords within a traditional airy floral.
MZ: I love provocative fantasy accords. Part of the fun in perfume is comparing the reality of the scent to the descriptions… perfume is a fantasy project… but not when they do all the heavy lifting… not when the scent doesn’t remotely live up to the wordage. There is no universal description of a perfume, or scent, at the end of the day.
AR: I remember speaking once about our joint frustration from a marketing perspective with people who privilege a perfume’s performance over all other aspects of its smell, and who push for every single thing they wear to achieve “beast mode” sillage/longevity, etc. What do you think, from a perfumer’s perspective, consumers get wrong about making something “long-lasting?”
MZ: Well, from the art perspective, I prioritize the smell, even if it doesn’t last long. I don’t personally care how long a fragrance lasts. But people like [it] when a fragrance lasts, and for good reason. So many people wear fragrances to take up more space and make an impression in the first place, and I understand that. I just don’t wear fragrances that way anymore, and I couldn’t even tell you why. To be honest, my reasoning is jaded. Some perfumes would smell much better if they didn’t last AS LONG and you just reapplied it a couple extra times. But, we prioritize functionality in this current day and age. I accept that.
AR: That’s a good point. It's just so different from how I think about and wear my perfume, to be honest. One of my favorite parts of your practice is how interdisciplinary your fragrances are. Is there an artistic medium (painting, theater, etc) you have not previously worked alongside that you would like to break into?
MZ: I think music. I would love to make a perfume for or with Lana del Rey.
AR: You’ve worked not only with CARNIVAL OF SOULS but also MAGGIE in transforming film into fragrance. If you could pick any fragrance to be adapted into a film, what would it be? What do you think that film would look like?
MZ: I was going to say Paris by YSL, where a woman blows up her life in the US and moves to Paris… that story never gets old to me... Or, maybe there’s a movie about two star-crossed lesbians – one wears Angel and one wears Alien.
AR: That’s so fun. I think I’m the one who wears Angel.
MZ: And I’d be Alien.
AR: Maybe more of an abstract question: but do you think there is a unique compatibility between perfume and the cinema? I think of how TV advertisements for designer perfume have become a sort of cultural joke for being so overwrought and nonsensical, but at the core of that phenomenon seems to be a link between fragrance and non-narrative moving pictures.
MZ: Totally, I mean David Lynch (RIP) made the most gorgeous and cinematic fragrance advertisements. It’s a really untapped genre of art!
AR: Talking more specifically about vintage perfume, since I know that’s a passion we both share: do you have a favorite Guerlain? Hard question, I know. I see echoes of Mitsouko in MAGGIE, and obviously a lineage of bottle design in your recent rebrand. I remember you also spoke with my friend Joshua a very long time ago about your great-grandmother wearing Shalimar.
MZ: Yeah, I’d have to say Shalimar out of respect for the queen, but I probably enjoy wearing Apres d’Londee more…
AR: Same. I’ve written about it before, but it’s one of my favorite fragrances of all time. I feel like a fairy wearing it. Speaking of, I think a lot about your practice in relation to gender. These fragrances clearly seem to be made in relation to a larger bibliography of feminist theory. You clearly seem to revel in perfume as [a] vampish costume or adornment – something that puts on a very emboldening and performative type of feminine glamour. I connect a lot with this vision of what perfume is and what it can do. How do you think we can balance this goal with an age in which the more mainstream cosmetics industry manufactures and exploits beauty standards for profit?
MZ: Your question is how to not exploit a passion or interest by selling it? I wish I knew, I’m just out here trying to make a living doing what I love. Does everything feel exploited once there’s money attached to it? Maybe. For better or worse, the only way I can work is to create from a place of genuine inspiration. I try to ignore what’s going on in the immediate commercial fragrance realm, which is not hard. So, if that means making a perfume inspired by something unpopular like Phantom of the Opera, or whatever it is, then I will because I love Phantom of the Opera. Sometimes my perfumes represent feminist values and sometimes they really don’t, because what inspires me is definitely not always “feminist.”
AR: Totally. Coming from more of a scholarly background, I know you’ve studied anthropology in the past and specifically worked with the social implications of the construction of cemeteries, and how various cultures think about death. What lessons do you think you’ve carried with you from your research into life in general? Has this influenced how you make perfume at all?
MZ: I think a lot of anthropologists consider themselves an outsider. Whether or not that’s true is… yet to be determined. I think of myself as an outsider in certain ways, though. Not completely, but I tend to have one foot in and one foot out.
AR: Like the idea of ethnography, that you’re simultaneously “in” the culture observing it but you’re also apart from it?
MZ: Yeah, but at the same time I don’t really say that anymore. Because I feel like I’m in it at this point and it's uncomfortable, actually, to feel so immersed in it. In New York City life. I have more perspective when I’m half outside of the community I participate in, which is how I functioned growing up. I very much feel immersed in it right now, as an adult, so perspective is hard. Perspective is hard for a lot of people right now at this moment in history, especially for those of us who exist on social media. Questions of what's real and what's not are harder than ever to answer. I’ve said this before, but I really use perfume myself in a way that’s for lack of a better word – necromantic. I think all perfume is worn in an attempt to evoke... whatever it may be.
AR: Totally. I think that resonates a lot with how I think about the world of niche fragrances. I think so much of what the niche market has to offer is these more profound historical or cultural or even societal references. You can have a perfume that is inspired by different figures from history, as you’ve done before, or something based on concepts you wouldn’t be able to get from a stereotypical designer brand, at least not anymore.
This is maybe another strange question, but do you have a favorite “classic” piece of literature? You strike me as someone who would resonate a lot with the brooding atmosphere of something like Wuthering Heights or Frankenstein.
MZ: Frankenstein, definitely. I also, strangely, love the book Heidi.
AR: I can imagine we both also share an affinity for classic film. What movies are touchpoints for getting to know you as a person?
MZ: I would say National Velvet is number one. Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, the musical Oklahoma. I’m going to go ahead and say it… Forrest Gump is one of my favorite movies.
AR: It’s funny, I feel like everyone I know has a very strong opinion about that movie. They either love it or they hate it. But I really liked it.
MZ: It’s an incredible movie on so many levels, especially for Americans. And the soundtrack.
AR: I respect it! It’s one of my mom’s favorite movies, so I feel like I always associate it with her. Her name is Jenny, too.
AR: This is a simple question I think reveals a lot about someone - do you have a favorite flower? Not even just in terms of its scent, but in general. Mine will always be lily of the valley.
MZ: Wow. I think violets, little purple violets. There's a quote, and it was something I wanted to get tattooed on my body for like ten years but didn’t. It’s a Tennessee Williams quote: “The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks.”
AR: That’s beautiful. I feel like violets have such cultural and literary symbolism, and obviously, in fragrance, they're gorgeous.
This is something maybe only tangentially related to perfume, but I think the worlds of fine fashion and perfume are often dependent on each other - plus, I love your own personal style. If you had the opportunity to work alongside any fashion house, who would you pick?
MZ: Schiaparelli.
AR: Oh I can so see that for you. That would be so glamorous.
This is maybe a personal pet theory of mine: do you think the average woman consumer’s fear of perfumes smelling “too old lady” comes from a fear of aging? There are so many conventions of classical perfumery like aldehydes and powdery, anisic notes I adore, but feel like your average consumer, especially at my job, really seems to have a vendetta against [me].
MZ: Yeah, I mean I think it’s just your classic fear of aging and dying.
AR: It’s interesting for me, because I feel I often love those notes precisely because they carry those connotations of 20th-century fragrance, but they are also so beautiful on their own. I feel like I’m always trying to convince customers at my job that something smelling powdery isn't a bad thing.
MZ: Yeah, I completely understand. I also think there’s somehow — even though we're living in the 21st century, there’s in a way, more misogyny than ever in fragrance.
AR: It’s funny because I feel like even at my job I get a lot of customers who come in saying “I want to smell like a man” or they usually say something like “I want more of a cologne than a perfume.” And it’s an inside joke I have with my coworkers, that 9 times out of 10 they end up being really drawn to something like Do Son, or a similar white floral fragrance, and their perceptions of what they wanted were actually way different than what they ended up liking. So usually when they say that to me, I think it means they want something that’s unconventional, or that doesn’t smell like that very specific type of rose-musk-aldehydes floral, but I love smelling unapologetically feminine. I don’t get it.
MZ: And that’s interesting, I found that to be the case as well when I worked at Annick Goutal. Plus Do Son is just sort of a reiteration of Fracas, so people come in wanting something edgy and masculine and walk out with Do Son, it's funny. But I’ve found you’re right, we really don’t know what we want a lot of the time when we’re shopping for fragrance. I guess that’s half the fun of it.
AR: One last question, I’ve loved getting to see pictures of you and your new dog Gogo - you’re so adorable together. If he could wear perfume, what type of scent do you think he would choose?
MZ: Oh my god. Gogo is freaky. I think Gogo would wear something really animalic, because he’s honestly really into poop. I think he would wear something like Oud by Tom Ford, he can’t resist those fecal notes.
AR: Is it just like smelling other dogs’ at a park, or is it his own?
MZ: All of it. But he’s a puppy, so I guess this is something puppies are into I’m learning.
AR: He’s just curious about the world I guess!
MZ: So, so curious. 🌀
Audrey Robinovitz is a multidisciplinary artist, scholar, and self-professed perfume critic. Her work intersects with the continued traditions of fiber and olfactory arts, post-structural feminism, and media studies. At this very moment, she is most likely either smelling perfume or taking pictures of flowers.