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The Olfactory Insurgent: Edward Hansen on Why True Luxury Doesn't Need Crystal.

  • T
  • Oct 2
  • 5 min read

In the rarefied air of global luxury perfumery, where the default aesthetic is a hushed reverence for history, baroque detailing, and crystalline heft, a brand must do more than just smell good-it must challenge the establishment. (S)MER, Sydney-born and built by founder Edward Hansen, doesn't just challenge it; it offers a clever, compelling alternative.


While many niche houses lean into theatrical opulence, draping their products in the olfactory equivalent of velvet ropes, (S)MER cuts through the noise with an almost academic precision, proving that understatement can be the loudest statement of all. This is a house that understands that true luxury today isn't about the weight of gold-leaf on the bottle, but the audacity of the concept inside.


He's here to give you the audacity you didn't know you needed.
He's here to give you the audacity you didn't know you needed.

(S)MER replaces predictable pomp with a sophisticated wit, leveraging a uniquely Australian sensibility-grounded, irreverent, and globally attuned. Its fragrances are distinct narratives, carrying the energy of Sydney's foundational elements-the abrasive beauty of its sandstone, the kinetic pulse of its dancefloor culture, and the bracing salinity of its saltwater-substituting classic French structure for a layered complexity that feels both alive and utterly modern. The minimalist packaging is a deliberate provocation, a conceptual white cube demanding that the focus be solely on the subversive liquid within, rather than the flacon's material boast.


Edward Hansen has not just built a perfume brand; he's cultivated a scent-centric subculture. It's this marriage of intimate narrative, uncompromising quality, and playful irreverence that positions (S)MER as not just an Australian export, but as a quietly disruptive force in the global niche market.


It's time to speak with the maestro behind the olfactory shift change, the architect of luxury's most perfectly tailored misfits.


Q: Canadian Tuxedo is audacious by name alone - and the scent doubles down on that irreverence. Was it a direct homage to denim’s cultural history (Springsteen, Britney & Justin, suburbia chic), or more a tongue-in-cheek way of rebelling against perfume’s seriousness?


Edward Hansen: Canadian Tuxedo was never meant as a gimmick, it was a memory. I grew up skiing in Canada, spending nights around bonfires in the trees. Double denim. Leather belts. Boots scorched by campfire. That thick, smoky smell baked into your jacket the morning after. The name just fell into place because it was my story and it felt very “(S)MER” to honour that memory rather than fabricate some fantasy brief.


Q: Many houses lean on Paris, Milan, or Grasse for credibility. You’re building (S)MER out of Sydney - a city that’s equal parts saltwater, sandstone, and sweaty dancefloors. How does that backdrop filter into your olfactory DNA?


Edward Hansen: Australia is home. I’m fifth-generation Australian, it’s in my bones. I can’t pretend to be from Paris when I’ve grown up under the sun. But I don’t see (S)MER as “Australian” in a kitsch way. It’s more an international attitude with Australian honesty. Our perfumer Jocelyn Fullerton trained and worked all over France and Europe, but at the end of the day, she’s also Australian. We don’t fight our roots, we build from them - and that gives us a unique perspective in a crowded market.


Q: Your bottles are stripped back to the point of provocation - no gilt, no pomp. Was this a conscious critique of the excesses of niche perfumery (where some bottles cost more than the juice), or just a “less is more” Australian pragmatism?


Edward Hansen: Luxury has become so loud lately - gold caps, marble bases, crystals glued to lids. I wanted to do the opposite. (S)MER packaging is like a perfect white T-shirt and jeans: confident enough not to beg for attention. If the scent is good, it doesn’t need armour.


Q: You’ve cited denim as both metaphor and medium. Denim is democratic but also deeply personal - it fades with the wearer. Do you see fragrance the same way: something designed to evolve and fray into memory rather than remain pristine?


Edward Hansen: Absolutely. Denim and fragrance share the same magic - they don’t stay pristine. They absorb life. They become yours. I don’t want you to keep (S)MER on a shelf. I want you to wear it into your own mythology.


Q: Independent perfumery often gets fetishised as “art,” but (S)MER feels deliberately grounded - like it wants to be lived with, not just admired on a shelf. Do you resist that lofty framing, or do you secretly enjoy blurring the line between art object and daily ritual?


Edward Hansen: I’m a no-bullshit kind of guy. Art or not, if you love something, use it. Spray it before brunch. Before bed. Before bad decisions. Perfume shouldn’t be precious. Like denim, it should live with you, not sit behind glass.


Q: Ingredients-wise: are there notes you find yourself addicted to? Leather, woods, musks - the olfactory equivalents of denim and boots? Or do you purposefully avoid falling into signature tropes?


Edward Hansen: I’m not loyal to ingredients, I’m loyal to feeling. I don’t start with notes, I start with atmosphere. Does it make you feel powerful? Comforted? Reckless? If it already exists in the market, I’m not interested. I’m here to create new terrain, not remix someone else’s formula.


Q: If (S)MER were to collaborate outside fragrance, who would you choose: a Japanese selvedge denim maker, an underground Sydney DJ, or a visual artist who plays with subculture iconography?


Edward Hansen: (S)MER is bigger than fragrance. It’s a lifestyle. I don’t think in limits, whether that’s denim makers, DJs or artists. I’ve already got a few wild collabs lined up - and none of them are expected.


Q: Your scents feel autobiographical - private winks bottled for public consumption. Do you write them as self-portraits, or as invitations for others to project their own messy narratives?


Edward Hansen: Both. They start as private winks - bottled memories from my own life. But once they’re out there, they’re fair game. Some people want to tap into the exact story, others want to use them as armour for chaos. That’s the best part. I create from instinct, not boardroom briefs - and people respond to that freedom.


Q: Humour in perfumery is rare (the industry takes itself very seriously). But Canadian Tuxedo proves you’re not afraid of play. Is humour a deliberate tool in your brand language, or does it just slip in naturally?


Edward Hansen: Maybe it’s an Australian thing, but I’ve never taken myself too seriously. Life’s short. I’ll give you elegance, but I’ll always add a wink. If a scent can’t make you smirk and swoon, is it really living?


Q: Finally, looking ahead: will (S)MER remain tightly curated, or do you see expansion into unpredictable territories - clothing, sound, spaces - much like how brands like Byredo or Comme des Garçons exploded their universes?


Edward Hansen: We’re not even a year into trading and the universe has already expanded. Fragrance is the spine, but the body could be clothing, spaces, sound - who knows. (S)MER is my creative vessel. And my head is already five years ahead. Buckle in.


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Words and questions by AW.

Answers by Edward Hansen.


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