Scent is a person’s signature; subtle, personal, and quietly powerful.
As a long-time perfume enthusiast, I’ve always been more drawn to the craft than the brand names, intrigued by the chemistry and the emotion behind each blend. Yet for all my curiosity, I’d never set foot in one of Indonesia’s many roadside perfume kiosks, known for their affordable reinterpretations of famous fragrances. That changed on a quiet Tuesday when I found myself at Indie Parfum.
At first, it seemed no one was there. I called out, “Hello?” but the roar of motorbikes and horns from the traffic outside drowned my voice. I peeked behind the counter and found a man on the floor occupied with his phone. “Excuse me, sir?” I said with a laugh. He sprang up, slightly startled, but ready as ever. “What can I help you with?”
I admitted I didn’t know exactly what I wanted, only the kind of scent I liked: something bold, Middle Eastern-inspired, rich with oud and spice. “Surprise me,” I told him.
Without missing a beat, he handed me a swatch. One sniff in, I was floored. “This smells just like Lattafa Khamrah!” I said. It was a scent I’ve adored since I first caught it on a friend. He grinned, clearly amused, but I wasn’t done exploring just yet. I needed to sample more.
As he pulled out bottles for me to try, we started chatting. His name was Azis, and he’s been in the perfume business for 25 years. He wasn’t one to talk much about himself, but the moment we dived into the topic of scents, he lit up.
He told me that he didn’t have any formal training when he started. “I began as a staff,” he said. “In this craft, you learn by doing. Figuring out what mixes well, learning to recognise notes, building muscle memory with your nose. It’s not something you study in books. It just sticks when you make a habit out of it and you’re curious enough.”
We kept talking, and I noticed how well Azis keeps up with current perfume fads, particularly the ones taking off on TikTok. He had some thoughtful takes, too. He pointed out the risks of viral DIY trends, like mixing your own dusting powders without understanding chemical ratios. “It can trigger allergies,” he warned, it was a trend I honestly had never heard of before. He even debunked a few common myths, like where you should actually spray perfume to make it last longer. Clearly, I was in the presence of someone whose feed (and mind) was deeply immersed in the world of perfumery.
Azis doesn’t have a favourite fragrance. “Depends on the day,” he shrugged. “Sometimes I want something woody, sometimes fresh, sometimes sweet. I just go with what I feel.” He tends to the kiosk alone and genuinely enjoys helping people find the scent that suits them best. “Perfume is about compatibility,” he said. “What smells amazing on one person might feel off on another. You’ve got to find what’s right for you.”
I left with a scent I now wear regularly and a feeling that I’d stumbled onto something really special. A place where craft and intuition come together, where passion is quietly lived.
In a way, meeting Azis was the reminder I didn’t know I needed. That even on an ordinary day, at an unassuming shop by the side of the road, there’s still room for discovery, connection, and the simple joy of finding something that just fits.