Even when I dedicate a perfume to a person of a specific gender, I design each and every concept to be worn directly on the skin of anybody who occupies a human body.

Most modern perfumes are designed to “wow” customers in a mass-market retail setting. And as such, only their top notes, which completely evaporate within 5-10 minutes after application, are designed to impress. After that, they often dry down to generic-smelling woody ambers and vague musks that smell rather indistinctive. I frankly loathe this style of perfumery, began making perfume in the first place because of how much I disliked it, and I even believe it’s the culprit for what has become a common complaint about perfume: that “everything smells the same anymore.”

So I don’t design perfumes like that—not ever. Instead, I design Chronotope’s perfumes to reveal themselves like ever-unfolding labyrinths, perfumes that dry down slowly and unfurl new materials and aspects of themselves over many hours of wear. This, I hope, offers wearers ample opportunities throughtout their otherwise busy, hectic days to smash the proverbial “pause” button, breathe a bit, and then re-emerge from this brief moment of respite feeling refreshed, stimulated, & ready to continue onward into the remainder of their day.

From concepting to materials acquisition, from formulation to compounding, from designing labels to sourcing prints, from filtering to bottling—to sealing, labeling, boxing, shrink-wrapping, and shipping—I’ve produced every single unit of any product that Chronotope has ever sold entirely by myself from my small perfume lab and studio based in Winter Park, FL, where I blend each finished perfume in half-gallon batches. And I take great care to see that each bottle of perfume that leaves my studio is one I can be proud of.

No two bottles of Chronotope’s perfumes will ever be exactly the same—and that’s not due to an inconsistency of the liquid perfume inside the bottles. Rather, it’s because each bottle is marked with a symbol that only I can provide: most frequently an impression of my right thumbprint, which I stamp directly onto the majority of products’ labels; however, a bit less often, the unique mark is either my actual signature or an original design that I developed and draw by hand directly onto the labels.