Rarely, if ever, does one meet a couple whose professional and personal lives are met in perfect harmony; woven together in a rich and luminous tapestry of passion and artistic sensibilities. Such is the marriage of David Apel, vice president and senior perfumer with Symrise, and his wife, the perfumer, Caroline Sabas. And, although the focus here is on David’s work and accomplishments, when The Fragrance Foundation sat down with him, we couldn’t help but start with this:

Where and when did the two of you meet and marry? Does Caroline work for a competitor? Do you talk about work at home, or is that off limits? Is there any sense of rivalry between you and do you ever collaborate on projects?
I met my wife in 1998, on a park bench, in front of the Church of Saint Germain de Pres, in Paris. Not by coincidence, of course, but through an arranged meeting. She was going to work for Fragrance Resources, as was I, and a colleague suggested we meet. We married last year, on the 4th of July, in a beautiful chateau, in the south of France, and are expecting a daughter in August. We’ve worked together, on and off, for the past 13 years. She works for Givaudan, and she’s a fierce competitor. We’ve collaborated many times over the years and she is, in fact, the one to whom I can always describe what I’m looking for when I’m unable to see it myself. She has a gift for listening and understanding, and an ease with raw materials that seems to come naturally to her. We never discuss our work at home, though we always discuss our friends. We work in a very small circle, and we all know a lot about each other’s lives. Maybe too much, but there’s something quite nice about being in a familial business. Perfumery is, after all, a craft passed from person to person, parent to child and master to apprentice, and I think those traditions create the type of familial atmosphere I described.

Take us back now, if you would, to your early days: how you grew up, who, and what, influenced you in your young life and the road that brought you to perfumery.
As a young man, I always believed I was born in the wrong century. Everything I loved revolved around an earlier, wilder time. By the time I was 9, I was used to being in the forest and spending nights alone under the stars. I hunted, fished and trapped with my father and two older brothers. My father was a great story teller and his tales of early American pioneers influenced me very much when I was young.

My family was of very modest means; I cut firewood every day in the winter and we supplemented our groceries with what we could hunt and gather in the forest. Though probably viewed as a hardship by some, for me it was a life of freedom and possibility, and one that molded me. My earliest scent memories and feelings of comfort are related to the forests of my youth when all I could imagine was a life outdoors, surrounded by nature. Although I had never been more than 50 miles from my east coast home, my wish was to be a forest ranger, working in a national park ‘out west’; a dream that evolved into that of becoming an environmental chemist with the E.P.A. While I was studying environmental sciences, I started working for Givaudan and discovered the materials that enticed me. At first I was intrigued by their exoticism, their unusual names and, perhaps, their appearance… dark and unctuous, colorful and fluid, viscous or brittle, they all seemed mystical: ylang-ylang, karo-karounde, vetiver bourbon, encens ancien eglise, ambergris, mousse de chene, benzoin siam. Soon, though, it was all about their smells. I worked in a compounding lab, with six others, following ‘recipes’ about which I knew nothing. Then, little by little, I started to create my own blends with 4 or 5 materials that simply appealed to me that day.

If perfumery is an art born of an inherent gift – as many agree that it is – do you think that your gift was always there, just waiting to be tapped? Was there an “aha” moment?
I would have to say that perfumery became my passion due to lack of a gift! In fact, as a means of artistic expression, it probably falls into third place behind my first desire, painting, for which I have little marketable talent. In second place is music which my lovely (and, by the way, exceedingly musically talented) wife would fall over laughing to hear, since I have no musical ability whatsoever; a fact I have occasionally (entertainingly) proven to her. The point is that I ‘feel’ both painting and music more deeply than perfume. I think that all artistic expression results from some frustration at not being able to adequately express oneself until that frustration finds a ‘crack’…a sort of way out. In my case, I became enraptured by perfumery when my early attempts were met with enthusiasm and encouragement. I felt that I had found a way to express myself, and I took advantage of every opportunity to study and to delve into perfumery more deeply. I was given the opportunity to apprentice in the G.C. laboratory and assist the perfumer, Helga Rotter, who became my mentor and taught me all she knew. I loved dissecting the materials into finer and finer pieces and felt like an alchemist uncovering the secret combinations that allowed fragrances to work their magic.

In your view, is perfumery more art or more science?
I think of myself as a craftsman. I’ve seen fragrances, however, that I believe are works of art. For what it’s worth, I think music and abstract art are the only two primary arts. Everything else either engages multiple senses or has too many alternative interpretations to be considered primary. In discussing art, I think it helps define perfumery as secondary, at least to these.

When you set about your work, where do you look for inspiration?
Inspiration is something that seems to find you; not something to look for, but rather to be open to. It’s a bit like love that way, I suppose. When you are involved in any type of creative life, I think you are, by nature, attuned to things that nourish your means of expression. As a painter, I know what moves me when I see it. It may be the simple curve of a line, a shadow, or the color of the sky, and I have a physical urge to put it on paper or canvas. As a perfumer, I’ve been inspired by mathematical theories, architecture, food, paintings and women (of course). My most frequent inspiration, however, relates to my early life and the influence of nature. Most of my work contains at least a hint, an accord or a feeling, of some experience I’ve had of the natural world. I think that one of the things that gives my fragrances a certain uniqueness (if I may be so bold as to think so) is that my natural influences come from the American northeast rather than from the Mediterranean basin and the storied fields of Grasse; from birch leaves and wild apple blossoms rather than lavender and jasmine.

When creating a fragrance, what do you hope to accomplish?
At my best, I suppose I hope to tell a story. It’s not often my story as we’re essentially ‘ghost writers.’ We’re asked to tell someone else’s story, usually conveyed through images and words, though occasionally through a piece of music or something concrete like cloth or stone. It’s how the fragments of someone’s imagination touch the perfumer that he or she sets about creating an interpretation. As an example, Luciano Pavarotti asked for an interpretation of the range and vibration of his voice which I represented with an accord of galbanum, patchouli and honey. “I don’t know what it is you do, but thankfully, you do,” was his most satisfying reaction. Every once in a while, we get to tell a bit more of our own story, and those are the times I find most rewarding. I once presented, to a major client, a fragrance I had created after a camping trip in Maine and a visit to New England’s crashing seacoast. Without my offering a word of description, the client told me the story of my fragrance. That fragrance, in its entirety, and in bits and pieces, has found its way into many commercial successes for me, including Hugo, Escape, Unforgivable and Wall Street, and seems to be in my fragrance DNA. I think every perfumer has a fragrance DNA, which is what gives each one his or her own olfactive personality. To be honest, I have to say that we are often charged with telling a story we don’t altogether like. For me, creating something overwhelmingly musky is a bit of a horror, since I don’t find most musks very pleasant. On the other hand, though, I’ve made some quite successful musk fragrances. It’s a challenge that always appeals to me.

That said – and given that client needs must be met – what, in your personal view represents the true value of a fragrance…commercial success or the pure and absolute beauty of a perfume (knowing, of course, that the two are sometimes compatible and sometimes not)?
As a perfumer, I have to believe that it’s always about the beauty, or uniqueness, of the creation. New West by Aramis, for example, was not a longstanding commercial success, but groundbreaking in its note. It paved the way for an entirely new olfactive direction in perfumery and for the exquisite L’Eau D’Issey. Within our small world, we often look at, and draw inspiration, from the work of other perfumers whose fragrances are sometimes outrageous in their design, but catch our attention because of their newness; the same thing that catches the eye of a very small ‘niche’ clientele. The more a theme is exploited, however, the more mainstream it eventually becomes, and the quest for newness starts again, which, ultimately I think, is healthy for perfumery and helps to move it forward. Actually, it’s something painters and musicians do all the time and always have; often collaboratively, and as sort of an homage.

What do you most enjoy about your work?
Two things, really. First, I love the challenge of interpreting someone else’s thoughts. Actually, since almost all fragrances today are collective efforts, it’s often the thoughts of many people. I love figuring out what it is they desire - perhaps even beyond their own understanding of what that might be - interpret that desire and then see the recognition dawn in their eyes. There’s nothing quite like it. Secondly, I love to explore.

I’ve floated in a balloon, above the rainforest in Madagascar, camped in the Mohave Desert and in deep northern forests – all in pursuit of rare and endangered flowers, for which I have a particular passion. In 1999, my future wife, Caroline, and a colleague, Jim Krivda, accompanied me on a quest for the flowers of the Lost Franklinia. Then, in 2000, Georges DeLignerolles and I found many more rare flowers and documented the trip with our Scents of Endangered Flowers collection. Some of those we sold to the Estée Lauder Companies, and a portion of the proceeds went towards land protection. It was a small and very limited commercial success, but a great moment for me personally, and something I would love to do on a much larger scale.

Among perfumers, past and present, whom do you admire and why?Jacques Cavalier – I am envious of the aforementioned L’Eau D’Issey. Pierre Bourdon, who retained his intellectual curiosity for fragrances and raw materials until his retirement. Jean-Claude Delville for his lessons about balance, both in fragrance and in life. Maurice Roucel for his gusto for everything! Edmond Roudnitska who createdEau Sauvage in his 60s, which gives me hope. And Caroline Sabas who loves fragrance more than anyone I’ve ever met.

And which, in your view, are the greatest perfumes – the classics – of all time?
My list is probably the same list as yours. 4711, Shalimar, L’Heure Bleue, Mitsouko, Miss Dior and Chanel No 5, etc. I’ve looked at those as classics since I began to study perfumery more than 30 years ago. It’s a hard list to revise, but I’m happy when I see something new that I believe will last – perhaps not for all time, but for a good long while. Angel should be one, and L’Eau D’Issey, I hope, as well.

Given the number of fragrances that launch each year – and the short attention span of the consumer – do you think that any new fragrance has a chance of real longevity – of becoming a forever classic like Shalimar or Chanel No 5?
Absolutely. You need look no further than Angel. As a perfumer, it is my only hope of immortality. As a person, thankfully, there are other ways. Even though consumers have so many choices - between the enduring classics, and the dozens of new fragrances that come to market each year, industry studies - and numbers – indicate that the ranks of “lapsed fragrance users” are growing annually.

What do you think sent the industry on this downward spiral, and what can be done to reverse the trend?
One of the first speeches I heard, as a perfumer, was at the ASP Symposium, I think by Dr. Fernando Aleu of Puig. He’d overheard a man, in an upscale department store, being asked by his wife to describe the fragrance sprayed on her wrist. Obviously reluctant to respond, the man said, sheepishly, ‘the elevator?’ It seems that the industrious sales associate, in the hopes of attracting customers, had sprayed the elevators with that scent. The analogy I’m trying to make is that I think part of what we see today is a response to too much stimuli. I think we’ve lived through such extraordinary growth, in the sheer numbers of fragranced products that it’s harder than ever to attract passionate attention to just one thing. I think, however, that we have very little to complain about. If we assume that some of the defining classics, and perennial best sellers, were created as recently (or as long ago, depending on your perspective) as the 1950s, we have to realize that the industry has grown ten-fold since then; a growth experienced by almost no other industry. I think part of the lapsed user phenomenon isn’t really a question of non-use, but of changing perceptions about what a fragrance is. I know many people who wear ‘fragrance’ every day and yet, when asked which perfume they’re wearing, say that they’re not wearing a fragrance. The amazing growth in the industry has been in non-traditional body products that are highly fragranced, but not counted among the numbers of ‘true’ perfumes.

Is there a “wish fragrance” in your future; one you dream of and hope to create?
I was asked that question a number of years ago, along with a few other perfumers – Jean-Claude Delville and Rodrigo Flores-Roux (Flores-Roux is a senior perfumer with Givaudan and recently profiled in this space.) I described my fantasy project; a scent story embellishing the characters and places in a movie such as Lord of The Rings. I don’t think it would be rewarding for me now; maybe technically interesting, but that’s all. Today, I would love to create a fragrance for my wife. I had the nerve only once before, and that was for our wedding. It was a nice fragrance…pretty, feminine and elegant…and I was embarrassed to give it to her. She is the one person for whom I would truly love to create something extraordinary. Someday, someday...

In the process of creating fragrances for fashion designers – Hugo Boss, Armani, Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren are some you’ve worked with – do you study the design aesthetic, or particular style, of the designer, and to what extent do the designers participate in the actual creation of the fragrance?

For all the fragrances I’ve created for designers and celebrities, I’ve started with some idea of their personalities. In only a few cases, though, did that style hold true throughout. Rather, it was the force of the individual’s character that kept things on track. Some notably strong characters that kept things in focus were Tom Ford, Nicolas Trussardi and Nino Cerruti, as well as Giorgio Armani and Ralph Lauren, although I didn’t actually meet either of them. The champion of will, however, was certainly Sean Combs. He was intensely involved, possessed the keenest sense of what he wanted and was, in so many ways, personally responsible for the fragrances created for him. That makes it hard to take any credit for them (although my wife, Caroline, certainly can, as they were created together with her, and I take great satisfaction in that.)

And speaking of fragrances you’ve created, we know that you’re a winner of both American and European FiFi® Awards. Tell us about them.

It’s not that I’m humble, but because of my terrible memory that I don’t really remember them well. One that comes to mind is Sunflowers, which was a huge thrill for me as I was pretty young at the time. But the one I remember most clearly was for Hugo, because they were kind enough to mention my name which didn’t happen very often at that time 1995 or 96 - and we were all surprised enough to let out a collective OOOH.

We all have very distinct “scent memories”; aromas that evoke vivid recollections of times, places or events of the past. What are yours?
Taking a thoughtful moment, Apel said that he’d be hard-pressed to name a favorite from so many memories, but chose to share this story of a voyage with Roman Kaiser to the rainforest of Madagascar. After they’d completed a canopy survey by balloon, the two set out on a trek that saw them through narrow trails, mist-shrouded rainforest and drenching rains until, as Apel, tells it, they reached a small hut they learned was used by Zebu herders, and where they hoped to find dry comfort. What they did find, Apel said, was a tiny, ancient woman, tending a fire, smoldering in a circle of stones, fueled by ebony wood and half covered with what he thought might be banana leaves. The memory so clearly etched in his mind, he said he was immediately intoxicated by an aroma he describes as a mix of smoky sensuality he’d never before encountered. Guaiac wood with cade, leather and animal hide; the salty tang of sea air and sweat with a toasty rice note; a hint of cumin smoothed and sweetened by a creamy, banana milkiness. Apparently, the woman had walked from her village for 3 hours to gather fire and would return, walking for yet another 3 hours, with her leaf-wrapped coals. She approached this task, he said, with a sense of awe; as though she were going next door to borrow a cup of milk. “It was a smell I will never forget.”

On another, more personal, note, we know that you have two sons. Have either of them inherited your passion or shown any interest in fragrance?
For a while, my youngest son Kyle aspired to be a chef, as my father was, but that’s about as close to perfumery as either of them have gotten. They have pretty sophisticated palettes for their ages, though, and I value their opinions. I’m thrilled that both Kyle and Matt have a sense of passion for things that interest them, and I’m happy that my industry has enabled me to live abroad and travel with them. They love to see and try new things, and have developed that habit unique to perfumers; they smell everything.

And what’s your own favorite smell?
It would embarrass my lovely wife to read this, but it is the smell of her neck and although I see that has also been mentioned in this space before by others it doesn’t make it any less true!

Can you tell us something about you that nobody knows?
I think that, by this point in my life, I am pretty much an open book, and if there’s something about me that Caroline doesn’t know, I’d be more surprised than you to discover it. Well, Caroline – glowing with love and pride – probably knows all about this, but perhaps not all our readers do, so we thought we’d just go ahead and mention it.

Chandler Burr, who writes, for the New York Times, all the news that’s fit to print about fragrance, recently penned this: “…new fragrances are lighter and more transparent, engineered to show you off. (One) of the best…Tom Ford Japon Noir: David Apel has created a fragrance that pretends to shroud you in modesty with fir trees, dark citrus and vetiver. Then, almost imperceptibly, Japon Noir clarifies, like a black-currant kir settling to reveal the glassy water of an aquifir.”

Richly deserved recognition and praise for a perfumer of extraordinary talent, accomplishment and grace, who provides us with an enormous amount of admiration and pleasure through his elegant and beautifully constructed perfumes, and through this interview.