Okay, layering fragrances is literally the only reason I don’t smell like a stressed-out Target run anymore, and I’m not even exaggerating. Like, two years ago I was that girl in the Trader Joe’s parking lot in Austin desperately huffing Bath & Body Works Japanese Cherry Blossom because it was the only thing masking my iced-coffee-and-anxiety aura. Then I fell down the perfume TikTok rabbit hole and everything changed—also almost set my apartment on fire, but we’ll get to that.
Why I Even Started Layering Fragrances (Spoiler: Desperation)
I’m basic, okay? I own like twelve half-used bottles because I chase the “you smell expensive” compliment like it’s my job. But nothing ever felt like me. So one random Tuesday in my tiny Brooklyn apartment (yes I moved, rent is evil), I decided to start layering fragrances like those fancy French girls who apparently wake up smelling like a rose garden had a baby with a bakery.
First attempt was tragic. I mixed Glossier You + some random vanilla body mist + a spritz of Tom Ford Lost Cherry because “cherry vanilla coke vibe.” Walked into my Zoom meeting and my coworker straight-up asked if I spilled syrup on myself. Humiliating. 0/10.
The Rules I Wish Someone Had Slapped Into My Hand About Layering Fragrances
Here’s what actually works (after approximately 47 disasters):
- Start light, end heavy. Put the sheer stuff first (your Glossier Yous, your Dedcool Milk), then layer the beast-mode scents on top.
- Two to three max. More than that and you’re cooking chemical warfare.
- Pulse points only, bro. Wrists, neck, behind the knees if you’re feeling chaotic (I am).
- Wait 30 seconds between layers. I learned this the hard way when I rushed and turned into a walking candle store.
My Current “I Smell Like That Bitch” Layering Fragrance Combo
This is the one people stop me on the subway for (yes, even in NYC, wild):
- Base: Phlur Missing Person (smells like skin but better, slightly melancholic)
- Middle: Dedcool Milk (literally just warm milky coziness)
- Top: Byredo Blanche (clean laundry but make it expensive) with the tiniest spritz of Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540 on my collarbone for that sugary crack vibe
It’s warm, clean, a little sweet, a little sad—like me on a good day.
The Time Layering Fragrances Almost Ended Me
True story: combined too much oud + vanilla + some random smoky thing during a depressive episode last winter. Woke up and my cat was staring at me like I committed a war crime. Had to sleep with the window open in February. In Chicago. Don’t be me.
How You Can Start Layering Fragrances Without Wanting to Yeet Yourself
- Raid your own collection first. You don’t need fifty bottles.
- Go to Sephora and annoy the employees. Ask for every sample. Live like a fragrance raccoon.
- Keep a notes app of combos that work vs. combos that make you smell like a Yankee Candle explosion.
Anyway, layering fragrances is honestly the cheapest therapy I’ve ever had. Smelling like your own little world—even when the world is falling apart—is low-key powerful.
So yeah. Go spray some random shit on yourself and text me how it goes. I need to know I’m not the only unhinged perfume gremlin out there.
(Also if you want the exact ratios of my current combo, DM me. I’ll send voice notes at 2 a.m. like a true fragrance degenerate.)
