Rain is often associated with melancholy, a sense of stillness cloaked in muted shades of blue and grey. Its rhythm is slow, its touch damp and nostalgic, carrying a quiet sadness that makes many turn away from it. Yet, if you look closer, rain holds a different kind of beauty. In its calmness, there is serenity; in its silence, a gentle sense of healing. Rainy scent carries whispers of damp earth, the freshness of leaves washed clean, and the breath of the sky meeting the land.
Drawn to that soft mist lingering in the air and the tender sound of raindrops tapping against the window, Megan chose rain as the muse for her perfume creation. To her, rainy scent has its own voice, its own fragrance, one that belongs to no season but lives quietly in the soul.
[One gentle rainy morning…]
Megan gently folded her rain-soaked umbrella, marking the beginning of a serendipitous encounter between her and NOTE. Wandering through Thảo Điền in the rainy season, she longed to capture the scent of those first showers – the fragrance of a tender drizzle that awakens the earth. But she knew memories fade too quickly, so Megan needed something to preserve that fleeting feeling – that is perfume.
She had always loved the rain. Not just the sound of it or the way it cooled the air, but the feeling it brought, a strange blend of melancholy and peace. The kind of peace that seeps into you slowly, like water soaking into soil. “I love the rain.” Megan said with a small smile. “I want to create a perfume that feels just like it, clear, cool, and a little bit earthy, with the scent of wet leaves and freshly fallen drops.” She paused for a moment, then added softly, “I guess not many people find beauty of rainy scent like the way I do.”
The moment she smelled the Airy note, Megan knew she had found the beginning of her story. It was light and pure, like the first breath of dawn after a long night, or the first dewdrops that cling to petals before the sun fully rises. To her, Airy wasn’t just a note, it was the first touch of summer rain, gentle and calm, washing away the heaviness of the world.
As she blended, a memory stirred. She was suddenly back at her childhood home, standing on the porch, watching raindrops fall over the honeysuckle vines her mother had planted. “When it rains, I always think of those flowers” – she whispered. “Their scent is naturally soft and sweet, like honey. But when the rain touches them, it becomes something else, lighter, purer, as if the whole world has just been reborn.” For Megan, that scent was more than nostalgia. It was a reminder that even in chaos, there can be stillness, and even in grey skies, there can be beauty.
But Megan didn’t stop there. She wanted her rain to have a twist, a secret sweetness hidden beneath the cool mist. So she added a drop of peach, bright, delicate, and just a little playful. It was the scent of joy peeking through the clouds. And to ground it all, she finished with White Musk, warm and embracing, the smell of earth after rain, of something ending and something new beginning.
When the final blend was done, Megan closed her eyes and smiled. It wasn’t just perfume anymore. It was her rain, which is soft, intimate, and alive, carrying the whispers of every drizzle she had ever loved.
My Formula
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