MUSIC ART FASHION CULTURE
Fragrance As Personal Style
Somewhere between the Fragrantica rabbit holes, the TikTok nose reviews, and the Instagram accounts dedicated to unhinged scent captions, fragrance has quietly become one of the most expressive things a person can put on, not just the finishing touch; now chosen with the same intention that once went into a carefully considered outfit, and talked about with a specificity that used to be reserved for wine. The subculture has its own vocabulary, its own obsessives and sitting at the centre of it is a small Fitzroy store that has been quietly establishing itself for a long time.
flâner fragrances began as an online brand before finding a permanent home on Gertrude Street nearly three years ago, and recently opened a store in Shoreditch, London. At the helm of the cult perfumery is Daniel Biddle (Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāti Porou), whose title, Bosun, borrows from the language of navigation. On a waka (Māori canoe), the bosun oversees the daily operations of the vessel and its crew. As Daniel puts it, it means “keeping the brand on course, to mitigate any obstacles in our way, and to ensure the wellness of our team as we move forward to making flâner the kind of place that people return to.”
We meet in Fitzroy at the flagship store. Before anything else, Daniel opens with a mihi (greeting/introduction) to the Traditional Owners of the land, the Wurundjeri Woi-Wurrung and Bunurong-Boon Wurrung peoples of the Kulin nation, and pays respect to Rangatira (elders) past, present, and emerging. Always Was, Always Will Be, Aboriginal Land.
The name, he explains, comes from a French verb, ‘flah-nay’, meaning to stroll without destination. To wander. It's an appropriate starting point for a brand navigating a fragrance landscape that has never been more crowded, more opinionated, or more online.
The internet didn't create the fragrance obsession, but it gave it a pedestal. Communities now exist entirely around note breakdowns, scent reviews, and the pleasure of finding the right words for something that resists language. The discourse is earnest, ironic, and deeply committed all at once. Into this world, niche brands with genuine points of view have found their audience, and flâner has become one of them.
Daniel understands the subculture, but he isn't bound to it. Fragrance, for him, is less a collection than a practice.
"Fragrance is a part of me, as essential as a shower or clean socks," he says.
He describes himself as a heavy douser, someone who lives in abundance and would sooner wear something than watch it accumulate meaning on a shelf. It's a philosophy that runs against the collector impulse driving much of the online conversation, though he holds space for that too. The obsessives, the mementos, the people buying a piece of Melbourne to take home. All of it belongs.
His ancestors were suave dressers. So were his parents. So is his wider whānau (family),
"We all carry a quiet kaha (strength) in our dress," he says.
His mother held a standard that left little room for negotiation. How you show up matters. That lesson settled somewhere permanent, and it shows in the way Daniel moves through the world: comfortable, layered, considered. He buys ethical or local where he can, though he's clear-eyed about the privilege that affords. Quality, he deems, has nothing to do with price.
Some of the most important things in his wardrobe didn't come from a store. He started borrowing from his parents' wardrobe early, and by the time that they both passed, his father seventeen years ago and his mother five, he had built something closer to an archive than a collection. His Māoritanga (Māori culture), he says, is inherently in him regardless of what he's wearing. But there is something specific about putting on his father's jacket or his mother's opera coat. He realised recently that he had forgotten the sound of his father's voice. The clothes are his way of signalling that he hasn't forgotten the rest. He feels most himself, he says, carrying one of his mother's kete.
It makes sense that fragrance occupies the same territory. The invisible layer. The thing that precedes you and lingers after you leave. In a cultural moment where people are increasingly deliberate about what they wear and why, scent has moved from afterthought to intention.
"Fragrance has always been about access and expression," Daniel says.
What's shifted is the awareness of it, and where people are choosing to spend. The pull is away from conglomerates and toward brands with a physical presence and a genuine community around them. flâner has both. The store reflects its neighbourhood rather than performing for it. Local artisans are brought in for installations. The team is welcoming in a way that feels intentional rather than theatrical, which is rarer than it should be in this category.
"Our brand is elevated but not pretentious," Daniel says. “We engage local artisans for installations and have a high customer retention rate. All of that keeps the fire burning”.
On the gatekeeping that still exists around how and where to wear fragrance, he's straightforward. "The old rules are often used to gatekeep rather than uplift.
“There is a massive difference between a $5,000 perfume and a $189 offering. I tell everyone to spray it on your body, to live in it, work out what feels right” he says.
The subculture, at its best, operates the same way, generous with knowledge, excited about access, less interested in hierarchy than discovery.
flâner London opened at 52 Redchurch Street, Shoreditch, London E2 7DP. Small, considered, and very much its own thing.
flâner fragrances began as an online brand before finding a permanent home on Gertrude Street nearly three years ago, and recently opened a store in Shoreditch, London. At the helm of the cult perfumery is Daniel Biddle (Ngāti Kahungunu, Ngāti Porou), whose title, Bosun, borrows from the language of navigation. On a waka (Māori canoe), the bosun oversees the daily operations of the vessel and its crew. As Daniel puts it, it means “keeping the brand on course, to mitigate any obstacles in our way, and to ensure the wellness of our team as we move forward to making flâner the kind of place that people return to.”
We meet in Fitzroy at the flagship store. Before anything else, Daniel opens with a mihi (greeting/introduction) to the Traditional Owners of the land, the Wurundjeri Woi-Wurrung and Bunurong-Boon Wurrung peoples of the Kulin nation, and pays respect to Rangatira (elders) past, present, and emerging. Always Was, Always Will Be, Aboriginal Land.
The name, he explains, comes from a French verb, ‘flah-nay’, meaning to stroll without destination. To wander. It's an appropriate starting point for a brand navigating a fragrance landscape that has never been more crowded, more opinionated, or more online.
The internet didn't create the fragrance obsession, but it gave it a pedestal. Communities now exist entirely around note breakdowns, scent reviews, and the pleasure of finding the right words for something that resists language. The discourse is earnest, ironic, and deeply committed all at once. Into this world, niche brands with genuine points of view have found their audience, and flâner has become one of them.
Daniel understands the subculture, but he isn't bound to it. Fragrance, for him, is less a collection than a practice.
"Fragrance is a part of me, as essential as a shower or clean socks," he says.
He describes himself as a heavy douser, someone who lives in abundance and would sooner wear something than watch it accumulate meaning on a shelf. It's a philosophy that runs against the collector impulse driving much of the online conversation, though he holds space for that too. The obsessives, the mementos, the people buying a piece of Melbourne to take home. All of it belongs.
His ancestors were suave dressers. So were his parents. So is his wider whānau (family),
"We all carry a quiet kaha (strength) in our dress," he says.
His mother held a standard that left little room for negotiation. How you show up matters. That lesson settled somewhere permanent, and it shows in the way Daniel moves through the world: comfortable, layered, considered. He buys ethical or local where he can, though he's clear-eyed about the privilege that affords. Quality, he deems, has nothing to do with price.
Some of the most important things in his wardrobe didn't come from a store. He started borrowing from his parents' wardrobe early, and by the time that they both passed, his father seventeen years ago and his mother five, he had built something closer to an archive than a collection. His Māoritanga (Māori culture), he says, is inherently in him regardless of what he's wearing. But there is something specific about putting on his father's jacket or his mother's opera coat. He realised recently that he had forgotten the sound of his father's voice. The clothes are his way of signalling that he hasn't forgotten the rest. He feels most himself, he says, carrying one of his mother's kete.
It makes sense that fragrance occupies the same territory. The invisible layer. The thing that precedes you and lingers after you leave. In a cultural moment where people are increasingly deliberate about what they wear and why, scent has moved from afterthought to intention.
"Fragrance has always been about access and expression," Daniel says.
What's shifted is the awareness of it, and where people are choosing to spend. The pull is away from conglomerates and toward brands with a physical presence and a genuine community around them. flâner has both. The store reflects its neighbourhood rather than performing for it. Local artisans are brought in for installations. The team is welcoming in a way that feels intentional rather than theatrical, which is rarer than it should be in this category.
"Our brand is elevated but not pretentious," Daniel says. “We engage local artisans for installations and have a high customer retention rate. All of that keeps the fire burning”.
On the gatekeeping that still exists around how and where to wear fragrance, he's straightforward. "The old rules are often used to gatekeep rather than uplift.
“There is a massive difference between a $5,000 perfume and a $189 offering. I tell everyone to spray it on your body, to live in it, work out what feels right” he says.
The subculture, at its best, operates the same way, generous with knowledge, excited about access, less interested in hierarchy than discovery.
flâner London opened at 52 Redchurch Street, Shoreditch, London E2 7DP. Small, considered, and very much its own thing.