"I recently had the distinct pleasure of sharing a coffee with Briac Frocrain, founder of Marlou fragrances, during Paris Perfume Week in Paris, France. He was kind, intelligent, and clearly passionate about his art and expressing himself through his unique creations. As you will discover, Briac has a fascinating background and was thoughtful and transparent in answering my questions.
Tracy • Can you describe your creative background and how it lead you to creating perfumes?
Briac • I grew up in a creative environment. My parents, both architects and visual artists, always encouraged my sisters and me to express ourselves without too many limitations. At home, it was like a true experimental laboratory. Passionate about plants, I turned the living room into a jungle, raised frogs in the garden, spent my time dismantling machines, soldering electronic components, and collecting electric motors.
I also did quite a bit of culinary exploration, and I had already started infusing plants in solvents in the hope of creating perfumes — it was often a disaster! But what mattered was trying, exploring. I am deeply grateful to my parents for giving me the freedom to make a mess, to get things dirty. I believe that’s essential to free the mind and break down mental barriers. Needless to say, we stood out in the suburban neighborhood we lived in: we were the “weird” ones in a very conformist world. I forgot to mention we also made a lot of noise: music played an important role. I played the piano extensively, and my sister played the drums. Like perfume, music is a form of immaterial creation. I believe it has some influence on how a brain develops.
Later on, I studied architecture, with a specialization in ecology. I’ve always needed to look beyond architecture itself, to explore what I considered other forms of architecture: that of objects, ergonomics, clothing. I was fascinated by the body — its movement, its social presence — and by the way we can design volumes around it. My degree explored the relationship between textiles and architecture, imagining structures that could be built both on the scale of a building and directly on the body.
I have always approached creation in a transversal and multidisciplinary way. After my studies, just like in my childhood, I continued to experiment in my room: I collected raw materials, botanical extracts, I kept cooking — a lot — discovering new spices and blending them into “olfactory architecture” projects. It was in a very instinctive way that I began to dive into perfumery, always driven by my interest in the body and its presence in society. I suppose the way I grew up taught me not to be afraid of things that “smell bad.” Animalic notes don’t repel me — on the contrary, I’m drawn to them. I want to explore them. Creating a perfume brand has been, for me, a way to extend all of this — to continue this interdisciplinary process: experimenting, designing systems, imagining packaging, inventing names, drawing... Besides, being a craftsperson seems quite simple to me — or at least, natural. Creating a product and selling it feels much more obvious than entering an industry, conforming to an economic environment, or claiming skills according to established standards. I like the idea of practicing a simple, concrete, and directly productive trade — a craft that creates value, both economic, intellectual, and cultural. A bit like a farmer working the land, growing vegetables, and selling them at the market: he is independent, in control of his activity, and feels useful. Creating a brand, for me, also came from the feeling of having something to say within this creative field. And there’s nothing better, to do so, than to create a space of one’s own.
T • We are often asked how one begins the journey of creating perfumes. Not only building the technical skill but also how one goes about connecting with the best places to source materials. What did your process look like early on and how has it changed since?
B • Here, I’m speaking about my own journey, about how I evolved as a self-taught creator. What matters most is being curious, having a desire to try, cultivating a certain imagination, and wanting to express something. It’s not a sudden decision — it’s something that builds itself up, that is nurtured over time. The rest comes naturally. Technical skills are acquired simply because there’s a desire to explore a creative field. Books, libraries, the internet, revisiting the high school curriculum in organic chemistry — everything becomes a resource.
To source raw materials, I was fortunate to receive help from companies that were kind enough to assist me in building a collection equivalent to a perfumer’s organ. These days, it’s possible to find many interesting materials online. I now regularly receive highly inspiring raw ingredients from producers.
I believe my creative process has remained the same as in the beginning: very empirical. I experiment, I jot down ideas, I fumble around. What has changed is that I know the materials better today. My nose is probably more refined as well. I have a clearer sense of what I want.
T • Your fragrances read as very emotional, personal creations. Is this a matter of finding your flow and letting go of thoughts and expectations?
B • Above all, I believe this is the result of a certain freedom of mind. I don’t seek to cultivate difference for its own sake, but I’m not drawn to the idea of conforming to anything either. My creative practice is quite self-centered — in a sense I consider positive. I operate more like an artist: I don’t aim to please a target audience or design a product tailored to a specific clientele. I explore the territories that live within me, I follow emotions I experience, I observe olfactory behaviors through my own lens. And from this personal approach, something is born — something that others can also feel and make their own. If it moves me, I’m convinced it can move others as well. In this way, I’m not trying to seduce or persuade. I believe other people will be moved, intrigued, or even shaken, just as I am — because we are alike, we share similar life experiences. If some people remain distant, don’t understand, or are put off, that’s not a problem. They will find their way to other brands.
To me, this is what defines a true creative approach: a kind of independence, an inner freedom that allows new ideas to emerge in the field of perfumery — and sometimes, to disrupt the norm. I’m not obsessed with the brand’s profitability. What does obsess me, however, is creating emotions and bringing ideas to life.
T • Where does your interest in animalics come from? There are some in the industry that seem to approach animalics in perfume to function as more of a shock value. Your fragrances instead seem to welcome the wearer in a more subversive, tender manner.
B • What interests me is that these scents are already part of our intimacy and of the olfactory language of our bodies. By occupying that space, they trigger very intense emotions — sometimes repulsive, certainly, but often far more alluring than any other scent. I don’t want to design a perfume as an olfactory mask, as a way to dominate or simply to smell “clean.” I want to think of it in connection with its medium — the body — in order to shape an olfactory personality, a trompe-l’œil fragrance that blends with the skin. It is therefore not at all a provocative gesture, but rather an emotional construction.
Moreover, animals use scent as a vehicle of communication to attract one another. For a long time, humans have been extracting these scents for perfumery, with a similar intention of seduction. I find that fascinating, and it makes me want to continue that story. Some molecules are particularly interesting in their versatility: they belong to a shared olfactory vocabulary across several animal and plant species. Jasmine, for example, can release particularly “dirty” molecules like paracresol or indole — notably to attract insects. As it happens, the human nose is also naturally drawn to these flower scents. This lexicon of carnal materials thus forms the very foundation of perfumery and olfactory communication between human beings, placing carnal scents at a level no other scent can reach. That is what draws me in, and I don’t believe it is provocative in itself — though it may be perceived as such in a society obsessed with cleanliness and overly cautious with matters of intimacy.
T • You have just released two new fragrances “Doliphor” and “Héliodose.” Can you talk us through what these fragrances mean to you and the direction that you chose in these creations?
B • Doliphor represents an exercise in perfume publishing. Unlike the other creations we have developed, we are not the originators of this project. It was the perfumer Emma Lehaut who approached us to present a skin note — her interpretation of a bodily scent — that she had envisioned for Marlou. We are pleased that Marlou’s identity is now sufficiently recognized that, like a literary publishing house, perfumers come to us with their proposals. What is most interesting is that Doliphor ultimately represents our work very well. It brings together materials that have defined Marlou’s identity from the beginning. It’s a subtle interplay between cleanliness and dirt, which appears on the body like an olfactory trompe-l’œil. It is intimate and evokes beautiful emotions.
Héliodose is our second fragrance designed in collaboration with perfumer Stéphanie Bakouche. It represents a culmination of a long exploration around an animalic flower. Flowers can naturally emit animal substances, and we had long wanted to create our own: a fragrance in the spirit of a soliflore. I’ve long been fascinated by jasmine Polyanthum — a florist’s flower not used in perfumery. It contains a surprising amount of animalic molecules — one could say it quite literally smells like a horse. I collected several plants of this kind and conducted multiple infusions before initiating this project.
In the end, we drew inspiration from tiare and its macerate — monoi — to create a solar scent reminiscent of certain cosmetic products, evoking for many the feeling of a holiday. I had the chance to travel to Polynesia as a child, and I believe this heady flower, along with the ylang-ylang I kept dried in boxes, left a lasting impression on me.
T • Are there any perfumers that you admire and/or any fragrance brands that you find inspiring?
B • I have great admiration for the work of Marc-Antoine Corticchiato for the brand Parfum d’Empire. He works with beautiful materials and offers subtle, deeply personal compositions. This same sensibility can be found in Eris Parfums, through the work of Barbara Herman and Antoine Lie. I recently had the opportunity to speak with Anatole Lebreton, and I feel very connected to his approach, as well as to the way he has developed his brand. We discovered many points in common: our love for artisanal work, our wide-ranging curiosity, and our choice to remain modest and independent in structure. In many ways, this also echoes the work of Isabelle Larignon and Alexandre Makhloufi with their brand Sacré Français.
T • Do you ever reach out to other perfumers for consult or guidance?
B • In any case, as a self-taught creator, I always work in collaboration with other perfumers. I rely on their expertise to bring a fragrance to completion, to ensure a project can truly come to life and be released on the market. Dialogue with perfumers is essential — it’s what allows us to move forward on a coherent olfactory path. Their technical knowledge in formulation and production of the juice is of great help to me. Speaking of the two most recent perfumes we’ve released, each one reflects a very different kind of relationship with a perfumer.
Emma Lehaut, for Doliphor: Emma had just finished her studies when we began working together, and I was immediately drawn to the freshness of her ideas and the way she approached intimacy. We discovered many commonalities and spent a lot of time exchanging thoughts about our respective journeys and our shared sensibilities shaped by scent. I’m very happy to collaborate with a young perfumer. I have no interest in participating in the kind of star-making trend where a handful of big names sign numerous new perfumes — to me, that no longer feels like a truly niche approach.
For Héliodose, it’s the second time we’ve worked with Stéphanie Bakouche, and our rapport is excellent. Stéphanie, who is also a teacher and a member of the Osmothèque, is deeply committed to passing on her craft. With her, it’s possible to delve deeply into the exploration of raw materials, to take time in building a formula and refining every detail. It’s a true luxury — and a process that resonates deeply with me.
T • What’s next for Marlou?
B • Marlou has always moved forward in an instinctive way. We’re quite far from strategic plans and formal reports. I believe this free rhythm contributes greatly to the pleasure we find in our work. We do things when the desire arises. That said, certain ideas for olfactory exploration give me direction and open up new perspectives.
For example, Marlou has not yet explored a note that is nonetheless central in animalic perfumery: oud. It’s a direction I would like to explore in the future. I also want to diversify our approach to perfumery — perhaps by organizing events or multiplying creative crossovers. At the moment, I’m working with an artist on the creation of a scent of discomfort — a fascinating collaboration. In the future, I’d like to pursue more of these kinds of intersections between disciplines.
Explore the work of Briac & Marlou here