Notes, accords, ingredients: how to read a perfume label.

A perfume label is a translation. The marketing copy on the box says "notes of bergamot, iris, and sandalwood." The IFRA disclosure on the side lists 47 chemical compounds in 6-point type. Both are accurate. Neither is honest about what's actually happening.

If you want to be a thoughtful buyer of perfume — or a thoughtful reader of fragrance writing — it helps to keep four layers separate in your head. They get used as synonyms all the time. They aren't.

1. Aroma molecules — what perfumers actually buy

At the bottom of the stack are the chemicals. Calone is the molecule responsible for the watermelon-marine smell that defined 1990s aquatics. Iso E Super is a synthetic that smells faintly of dry cedar but mostly serves as a "transparency" agent — it makes other notes feel weightless. Ambroxan is the modern stand-in for ambergris, which is illegal in many places and worth more per gram than gold.

These are the units a working perfumer orders from IFF, Givaudan, Firmenich, and a handful of other suppliers. You can buy most of them yourself, in 10ml bottles, on the same websites perfumers use. They smell mostly of nothing in isolation. The art is in the proportions.

2. Ingredients — extracts from real things

Above the molecules sit the processed materials: rose absolute (kilos of petals reduced to one drop), sandalwood essential oil, orris butter (iris root, harvested then aged for six years before it's usable), tonka bean tincture, oakmoss extract. These are recognizable as coming from a thing. They cost real money — a kilo of orris butter routinely runs into five figures.

Most modern perfumes use a small amount of naturals as a backbone, then build everything else with synthetics. The reverse — all-natural perfumery — exists, but it's a niche within a niche, and the perfumes are dramatically more expensive and vary bottle-to-bottle.

3. Notes — the marketing abstraction

This is the layer almost everyone means when they say "notes": the top/heart/base pyramid printed on the box. "Bergamot, iris, sandalwood." Those words point at a perceived character, not at what's literally in the bottle. The "bergamot" you're meant to smell at the top of a fragrance might come from real bergamot oil and three different bergamot-adjacent synthetic molecules, dosed together to evoke the smell of a sliced rind.

Notes are a useful fiction. They're the layer you can talk about with a friend over dinner. But they're a layer above the chemistry, and a layer below what a perfumer is actually doing.

4. Accords — the perfumer's built impression

This is the layer most people miss, and it matters most. An accord is several ingredients combined to evoke a single recognizable smell that may not literally be in the bottle.

• "Amber" is an accord. There's almost never literal amber — fossilized tree resin — in a modern perfume. The amber character is constructed from vanilla + labdanum + benzoin in a known proportion. When a label says "amber," it means the perfumer built that character.
• "Iris-powder" is an accord. The powdery quality is built from orris + heliotropin + sometimes a touch of vanilla. There's no "iris-powder" you can buy.
• "Marine" is an accord. Calone + a faint green note + sometimes a salt molecule.
• "Leather" is an accord. Isobutyl quinoline + birch tar + occasionally castoreum. There's no leather in your bottle of perfume.

A perfumer thinks in accords. They're the unit of artistic intent. Two perfumes can share none of the same notes and feel like cousins because they share an accord skeleton; two perfumes can share a long list of notes and feel like strangers because the accords are built differently.

Above the accords sits one more level: olfactive families — Floral, Chypre, Fougère, Oriental/Amber, Aquatic, Woody. Thirteen of them in the system most perfumers use. That's the highest-level sort, the way you'd organize a library by the colour of its spines.

How other sites handle this

It's worth knowing what the rest of the internet does, because you'll see it on every perfume page you visit.

Fragrantica displays a horizontal "Main Accords" bar chart — but those bars are user votes, not olfactory composition. Users tag a fragrance with descriptors ("powdery," "warm spicy," "synthetic," "yellow floral") and the bar widths come from aggregated voting. It's perception consensus, useful as a community signal, less useful as analysis.

Parfumo deliberately avoids accord visualization. They lean on a tightly maintained note pyramid plus character sliders — sweetness, warmth, sillage, longevity — set by their community.

Basenotes lists notes only and lets long-form reviewers carry the rest of the analysis.

Most retailers — Sephora, Luckyscent, Nordstrom, Notino — just print the marketing notes and let the brand's own copy do the work.

None of those are wrong. They've each made a different choice about what the accord layer is for: a vote, a slider, a paragraph, a press release.

What we do here

Sillage shows you all four layers, deliberately separated:

• Notes appear as the top/heart/base pyramid you'd recognize from any other site — sourced from the most reliable reference page we can find for each fragrance.
• Accords appear as a weighted shape — the perfumer's built impression, scored against thirty-five canonical accords. It's the layer most useful for finding scent twins, because two perfumes that share an accord skeleton tend to wear like cousins even when their notes look unrelated on paper.
• Ingredients and aroma molecules are usually invisible to a buyer, but we cite them when they're load-bearing — when a perfume's signature is built on a single famous molecule (Iso E Super, calone, ambroxan), we'll say so in the editorial.
• Families sit above as the highest-level sort: thirteen of them, the standard way perfumers themselves classify the space.

If you remember one thing: a "rose" note is what you're meant to perceive; a "rose accord" is what was built. They're often the same. Sometimes they're not. The honest sites tell you which.