When we’re talking about perfume or candles, does it matter who did something FIRST?

Maybe, maybe not. Sometimes, an innovation can be difficult to pinpoint, because multiple people or brands are working with the same new material or tapping into the same cultural current. I do like to give credit where credit is due, however, when the facts are clear. And I tend to raise an eyebrow when someone (an individual, a brand) claims that they were the FIRST to offer, for example, a water-based fragrance, or a matching perfume-and-lipstick duo, or “the first-ever iris gourmand.” Why bother to stretch the truth? Why not just show that you have something excellent to sell, and tout its other (truer) virtues?

Flamingo Estate might not actually be saying, in so many words, that they made the first tomato-inspired candle, but the owner has Instagrammed (in December 2024) that “[o]ur Heirloom tomato candle set off a frenzy that other brands are still copying.” I was aware of the Loewe tomato candle before I’d even heard of Flamingo Estate, but that might just be a demographic effect; I’m not the Flamingo Estate customer, as far as I can tell. (I’m also not the Loewe customer, for economic reasons, but it certainly appeals to me a lot more.)

When Emily Jensen of Glossy contacted me to talk about the tomato and tomato leaf trend in home fragrance and perfume, Chris Zou and his Loewe candle were the first thought to flash through my mind. Then I had a few other thoughts, and then I dug back through my memories and some other resources.

Here is the link to Emily’s article on the trickle-down of the tomato trend, which I hope you’ll read.

And here are a few more notes…

The older ads for Sisley’s Eau de Campagne, which incorporates a tomato leaf effect along with other garden-y notes, are just fantastic. They remind me of Estée Lauder’s ads for Aliage; it’s the same sporty 1970s moment, but Mediterranean, and fun for the whole (wealthy) family. I’ve been glimpsing this fragrance at the Sisley counter at Bergdorf Goodman for ages, and I had no idea that a) it dated back to 1974, b) it was developed by the now-legendary perfumer Jean-Claude Ellena, and c) it inspired Chrisopher Brosius to create Demeter Tomato in the late 1990s.

Tomato, one of Demeter’s early “pick me up” sprays, kept the tomato leaf idea and pared away the rest of the Sisley composition, resulting in a single-note scent that was unusual yet shockingly simple for its time. I do remember the first time I read about Demeter’s Tomato, Dirt, Grass et al. in a magazine. The writer assured us readers that Tomato gave an impression of tomato leaf, not the actual vegetable (fruit?), so we wouldn’t run the risk of smelling like spaghetti. When I finally got to a little gift boutique on Elizabeth Street (rest in peace, Daily 235) that carried the Demeter line, I actually ended up purchasing Fig Leaf instead, but the seed (hah) of interest in tomato scent had been planted.

Christopher Brosius’s current company, CB I Hate Perfume, offers a fragrance named Memory of Kindness #103. It was launched in 2006 and it’s available in various sizes, as well as a water-formula as an alternative to the oil-based format. Memory of Kindness was inspired by Brosius’s recollections of a favorite aunt and her tomato garden, and that story has always resonated with me, because I had an aunt (an honorary aunt, but still!) who would bring me out to the garden behind her house in South Jersey and show me how to pick a ripe tomato. The smell of the sun-heated leaves and vines, and the feel of the tomato with its dusty veil of garden soil, have always stayed with me.

Looking back, I now have an unscientific hunch that some newly developed aroma-chemical was responsible for a mini-wave of tomato leaf products in the mid-1990s. In addition to Demeter Tomato, we had Liberty Fizz (Liberté Acidulée). It was one of three Nina Ricci scents from 1996 (it’s the one in the green bottle) and it had a prominent tomato leaf note. Also in 1996, niche fragrance pioneers L’Artisan Parfumeur very briefly offered a trio of environmental fragrance items—a room spray, a spray for car interiors, and a candle that smelled of crushed tomato leaves and basil. And, somewhat less glamorously, a tomato-scented candle was available as a promotional item at a “Made in New Jersey” festival in 1999.

The 1990s were also the era of Prescriptives Calyx fragrance and skincare lines like Origins and haircare lines like Aveda; we were on a “green” and botanical-inspired kick in general.

So, if this was a dormant trend that just needed to be revived, who can we thank? I regret to inform you that neither Loewe nor Flamingo Estate was the one to bring tomato leaf ambiance into the twenty-first century. Just one example: the French heritage brand Parfums D’Orsay was selling a tomato leaf candle in the United States in 2008 and probably even earlier in Europe.

My frag-friend Noah says Votivo used to make a tomato candle, and I was too deep in my Red Currant obsession in the 2000s to have noticed anything else, and now I can’t prove it, but I believe him.

Carrière Frères also features a tomato candle, and I do like their packaging a lot. I’ve heard mixed reviews of the quality of their candles, but if you’ve had a positive experience, please weigh in! I’m also pretty sure that this candle was available before 2020, but I don’t have evidence. Again, let me know if you can confirm or deny…

Meanwhile, many indie candlemakers have certainly been making tomato-ish candles for the past decade. My local maker, The Lucky Honeybee, has been offering a Jersey Tomato candle for a long time, so I personally can attest to the fact that this idea was not non-existent before it emerged in the luxury retail space circa 2020. The tomato trend has possibly trickled upwards as well as downwards—at least, it’s gone from artisanal and indie to prestige and mass-market.

Do you have any tomato-inspired favorites? Feel free to share, and don’t forget to read Emily Jensen’s well-researched article!