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I have always believed that the first fragrance we truly recognize is love.

Mine arrived in 1964, wrapped in the soft beauty of my mother, Barbara — the woman I made a mother for the very first time. That was my introduction to scent, to tenderness, to womanhood. Motherhood had a smell, and I fell in love with it.

As life unfolded, I began to understand that fragrance would one day become my language — not all at once, but slowly, through the moments and experiences that shaped me.

My first purchase came from the Woolworth’s on High Street in Columbus, Ohio — a four-pack of tiny 5mL bottles named violet, rose, things I couldn’t yet pronounce but could already feel. They were inexpensive, simple, hardly more than scented water… but to me, they were possibility. After that came Love’s Baby Soft, Gloria Vanderbilt, the “big splurge” of Red — and suddenly I was a girl with a fragrance wardrobe.

And, of course, there was my mother’s dresser.
A curated kingdom of sophistication: Secret of Venus, Donna Karan’s Chaos, Obsession by Calvin Klein. I would sneak a spray or two before school and feel beautiful, confident, seen.

SereneB., 

Parfumeuse de Vérité

By eleven, I was spending my allowance on glossy magazines — Elle, WWD, Vogue France — long before I truly understood the fashion world they represented. I lived for the days when fragrance strips would fall from the pages, teaching me what beauty felt like in other parts of the world. When I was fifteen, a Dior Dioressence strip slipped into my hands and changed everything. I wanted it. I needed it. I asked for it.

And on my sixteenth birthday, my father Virgil placed that bottle in front of me at Mario’s International Restaurant. A moment so simple, yet it carved a permanent pathway in my spirit.

I believed I would become a perfumer straight out of college.

Ohio State had other ideas.
I was told I wasn’t “equipped” for chemistry. Not equipped for broadcast journalism. Told I didn’t have “the look.” Told no, again and again. I was redirected — Home Economics, then courses I never imagined — until a Black History class with Dr. Shipley captured my heart and held it for a season.

But life has its own scent trail.

Domestic violence found me on campus, and suddenly the bright future I imagined dimmed into fear and silence. 

There were no resources for young women then — or at least none I knew. I didn’t have language for what I was living through; only the heaviness of being muted, unheard, and profoundly alone. Fragrance became my refuge. Writing became my lifeline.

It took years to leave that relationship. It followed me — or perhaps I followed it — from Ohio to Atlanta to Chicago. Chaos. Shame. Forgiveness. Survival. And yet, through it all, GOD kept me.

SereneB., 

Parfumeuse de Vérité

Somewhere along that journey, the chemistry I was told I wasn’t capable of learning found its way into my hands anyway. Not from a classroom — but from lived experience, memory, emotion, faith, and the stories of our women. My nose became my compass. My sensitivity became my strength. My courage became my formula.

I created my first fragrances for my daughters.
And then, slowly, bravely, I created for the world.

I am the mother of four beautiful daughters who have made this fragrance journey joyful, challenging, honest, and unforgettable. They are my fiercest critics and my greatest loves. My prayer is that I leave a fragrant path behind me — one that teaches them to live boldly, fully, and without apology.

SANCTUAIRE DE FLEURS exists because I survived.
Because our stories matter.

I often imagine my Aunt Margene behind the Lazarus fragrance counter… that warm, knowing smile, lifting a bottle from this maison the way she once lifted the classics. In my mind, she’s spritzing it softly into the air, sharing it with the women in her path — just as she always did. And my prayer is that she, and all the perfume ladies who shaped me, can somehow smell these fragrances now. Their legacy lives here.

Because the lineage of Black women — from my mother Barbara to my aunt Margene behind the Lazarus fragrance counter — deserves to be held in luxury.

This is my sanctuary.
This is our sanctuary.
A fragrance house built from legacy, memory, and truth — told one extrait at a time.

Thank you for joining the SANCTUAIRE DE FLEURS journey with me.

SereneB., 

Parfumeuse de Vérité