Born in Paris in 1989, David Benedek fell into perfumery the way others fall into the sewers of Paris except his version smelled of jasmine and bargain-basement vetiver. Between two snacks and three spelling tests, his grandmother Édith taught him the sacred art of the perfume bottle and was already predicting a grand destiny for him: “My dear boy, one day you’ll be swallowed by an empire à la Jacquemus, and then you’ll know glory… or Excel spreadsheet purgatory.” Visionary, that Édith.

It must be said, the grandparents had already laid the first stone of the future buyout: a boutique opened in 1959 near the Palais Royal perfect location, well before the Sephora Group absorbed all of France’s distribution channels with a dominant position. But in the luxury world, “dominant” is their favorite position.

While other children were playing marbles, David was sketching perfume bottles in the living-room. Who could have guessed that those innocent scribbles would one day be resold as “limited editions” packaged in recycled-luxury cardboard?

The Institut Français de la Mode welcomed him in 2012, where he learned two essential things: how to become a “Nose,” and how to talk about perfume using words like “emotional texture” and “olfactive pigment” as well as the universal truth that everything ends up being sellable, even candles.

He then moved on to Givaudan, where he discovered the magic of modern chemistry: creating emotions with molecules whose names sound like Wi-Fi passwords, in a place where talc is apparently not fond of babies.

In 2016, driven by passion, ambition, and probably a touch of naïveté, he founded Maison BDK Parfums. An “olfactory library,” he said: each box resembles a book except no one reads it, but everyone can smell what’s coming.

And then one day, in a rustle of velvet and contracts reviewed by thirty lawyers, appears the Lord of Cashmere, who collects brands the way others collect stamps. And so Maison BDK joins the constellation of Absolute Luxury. Yet another fragrance in the group’s infinite library, somewhere between a vintage champagne and a handbag that costs about the same as a quick favor from a Dubai influencer.

But after all, isn’t that the fate of every creator promised to posterity? To be born in a living-room smelling of rice powder… only to end up in the pockets of the Lord.

FM