By Rashmi Chopra, Founder, Rareity Beauty
Monsoons have a curious way of pausing the world. The scent of damp earth, the rhythmic percussion of rain on windows, and the heavy aroma of flowers left slightly undone by moisture there’s a strange, haunting poetry to it all. It’s during this season that our senses, especially olfactory, begin to crave not the bold and the bright, but the quiet luxury of deeper, more textured aromas.
In this slower, more introspective rhythm of rain-soaked days, perfume becomes more than an accessory. It becomes a language a way to narrate what the skies feel like when they are brooding and blue, or how the heart opens when the world slows down.
The world of handcrafted perfumes has been quietly pushing the boundaries of this language. Moving away from the industrial uniformity of mass-market scents, artisanal perfumery focuses on narrative, emotion, and identity. These are fragrances not meant to merely impress, but to evoke to stir a memory, a feeling, a place.
Rareity, one such boutique perfumery that caught my attention recently, embodies this sensibility. With a deliberate leaning into the art of slow perfume, Rareity’s approach feels less like manufacturing and more like distillation of mood. Among the scents in its recent lineup, three compositions stand out—each oddly in tune with what the monsoon seems to ask of us: reflection, intimacy, and grounding.
Iris Vanilla , for instance, isn’t your typical floral. There’s a powdery stillness to it, but one that doesn’t feel vintage. The iris note here is delicate, grounded by a warm, softened vanilla that resists every confectionery stereotype. Wearing it during a grey, drizzly afternoon feels akin to curling up with an old book, its pages whispering stories from a different time. It’s a scent that lends itself to solitude and depth, effortlessly balancing cool elegance with gentle warmth.
Cedar Lime , by contrast, plays in tension and surprise. A burst of citrubright, green, and lively mellows quickly into the dry strength of cedarwood. It evokes monsoon mornings in the hills, where the earth smells of crushed leaves, wet bark, and a sudden freshness in the breeze. Clean yet complex, it’s a quiet energy boost for misty workdays and post-rain walks.
What makes these scents particularly compelling for this season isn’t just their composition, it’s their texture. Monsoon doesn’t tolerate anything too linear or overly sweet. The air is already heavy, often unpredictable, and you want your fragrance to breathe with it, not against it. Handcrafted perfumes, by their very nature, offer a layered, evolving experience. They mix differently with the skin, they shift with the weather, and they tell their story slowly.
Fragrance, at its most intimate, is a quiet rebellion. In a world preoccupied with speed and volume, choosing to wear something artisanal is choosing nuance over noise. It’s a celebration of the invisible. And perhaps that’s why, during the rains—when we are most aware of the intangible it resonates even more.
As someone who seeks refuge in the subtle, I find that monsoon asks not for statement perfumes, but for presence. For scents that linger, not announce. And in compositions like Iris Vanilla and Cedar Lime, there is an unmistakable tenderness, a handcrafted truth that speaks not just to the nose, but to the soul.
