Aromachology Lets You Create A Scent That's Truly Your Own

My name is Carli. I'm twenty-three years old, and I'm a perfume-aholic. Ever since I was small, I have been fascinated by fragrance. Today, I'm downright fanatical. Some women suffer from shoe addiction, and others struggle with chocolate compulsions. My Achilles' heel, however, is bottled scents and I'd go shoeless and hungry if it meant finding my signature.

Glass bottles decorate many a surface in my little apartment. Crystal globes filled with fragrant liquids, some sweet, some spicy, but none that I'd consider keepers. And that's what a good perfume is. Worn forever and loved for-always. It's timeless. It smells just as good on you today as it did in the department store. It's transformative. Spraying it on immediately lifts your spirits, even in sweatpants you feel beautifully put together. And, the most important, it's unique. Surely, you don't want to be one of five women in the subway spritzed with the same bouquet.

If you're like me, then you know the importance of a distinctive scent. And even if you're not like me, you'll love Aromachology, the DIY perfume line that allows you to create and tailor a scent that's just for you. Located in an unassuming second-floor studio on Avenue and Davenport, My Aromachology is one of Toronto's best kept secrets, and a goldmine for anyone in need of a good scent, or a great gift.

Co-founders Kirsten Menkes and Ashlee Firsten, and PR Director Jen Liu, look like three best friends. After a few minutes I realize that its because they are. Walking into the thinly decorated space, bright, white and mostly barren, I'm immediately at home as we chat about my affinity for fragrances and make small talk about the city. We all agree that despite its size, Toronto can feel like a fishbowl. "Even though it's a huge city, Toronto always feels like a small town," says Firsten, standing behind a display of magnificent pastel-coloured fluids. I soon learn that the pink and gold oils smell as good as they look. Yes, Toronto can feel tight at times, and it starts to seem as if everyone knows everyone. "Maybe that's why it's important to stand out," I say, talking about perfume, but I can't tell if they know that.

I first fill out a questionnaire, circling the answer that best describes me. Your signature drink is a? Since they don't offer black coffee as an option, I circle wine. My favourite way to work out is.? I check the box that says treadmill, and hope that it's that conveyor-like machine that I've seen on TV. But once I've completed my test, they tally my score, and I'm shocked at how dead-on their analysis is. I come up as 'Bold and Brisk', which translates to woodsy on a scent scale. It's the exact base scent I would have chosen if I were to leave the decision to my nose alone. The other options included oriental, floral, gourmand and fresh none of which especially sing to me.

Thrilled at how accurate their selection was, I move on to the second step. Small beakers of top-notes stand in a row, long white sticks poking out the tops. Each thin, glass tube bares the name of an attribute. One says spontaneous, another sexy, and another comforting. "Do I pick attributes that I already have, or attributes that I aspire to have," I ask, scanning the row for a tube that says irrational, or neurotic, or disorganized. When I don't see one, I am relieved when Menkes pipes up. "Ashlee and I have debated this forever," she says.

"Ashlee likes to pick qualities that she would like to have, whereas I often pick ones that I feel I already posses. We feel that it works both ways, and we always like the scent we come up with!"

But, I don't have the luxury of mixing a new perfume every morning like these ladies, so I decide to take heed to Ashlee. I select confident, and inspiring, and layer it over the warm, woodsy base scent that I selected earlier. Then, just like that, the two are squeezing and dripping and twisting and shaking, and moments later I'm holding a bottle.

I spray a little on my wrists, and some on my neck. Already I can smell the citrus and sweetness (two smells that I wouldn't typically go for), and mixed with the bold base, the concoction smells good enough to eat. I take my scent, and am on my way, sniffing at my wrists and inner-elbows as I walk. Back at the office, I continue to sneak short whiffs, lifting my shirt collar and inhaling the bold scent, taking it back in huge, audible nasal gulps. Even at days end, eating dinner on the couch with my boyfriend, I can't help but adore my own aroma.

That night I take my new perfume upstairs and over to my dresser. I move one bottle to the right, and two bottles to the shelf, I realign a few tiny testers, while a few other samples roll onto the hardwood floor. It's then that I realise I don't have enough room for all of these here. Taking one last good sniff of my bangled wrist, I make a life changing decision.

"Hey, do we have any shoeboxes," I shout into the hallway. "I think I can put most of these perfumes away now."

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