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Jon DiNapoli, founder of creative agency JMD and designer behind fragrances for Sabrina Carpenter, Billie Eilish, and Tommy Hilfiger, joins Skin Anarchy to unpack how a brand comes alive: where creative direction starts, why packaging now sells the product, and how to balance art, cost, and commerce.

How did Jon DiNapoli get into beauty branding?

Through a newspaper ad his mother circled. A graphic design graduate, he answered an Estee Lauder listing 27 years ago and was mentored by industry figure Catherine Walsh. "It's this one little push from mom that kind of catapulted this career in a direction that I'm still pushing in," he says, having worked under Walsh over 15 years before founding JMD.

Where does creative direction for a brand start?

With questions, not sketches. DiNapoli's first move is extracting everything he can before designing, because a brand only works if it is true to itself. "Anyone can put a brand out on the market, but it's not going to work unless it's authentic to that brand itself." A Marc Jacobs fragrance has to feel like Marc Jacobs, not like him.

What white space led him to start JMD?

The gap between creative talent and business know how. As a creative lead at Coty, DiNapoli sat in sales, PR, and financial meetings, learning what sells and how products get made. "There were many agencies that were amazing... but they didn't have that back end knowledge," so he built JMD to pair design with years of brand side experience.

How important is sustainability in beauty packaging now?

It is no longer optional. DiNapoli says clean and sustainable design has shifted from a differentiator to a baseline expectation. "It used to be you stand out if you're sustainable... now it's the price of doing business. If you're not, you fail." His team revisits even launched products, like a Clean Reserve cap moved to fully wooden construction.

How do you design a brand that can grow?

By building expansion in from the first bottle, so a single launch can become a franchise. With Sabrina Carpenter's Sweet Tooth, the pink chocolate bar bottle was designed to extend into flavors. "When she launched... the song Espresso, we quickly did an espresso fragrance," because the brand had legs to grow with the artist.

What makes packaging rise above the noise?

A clear hook and a story that reads instantly. DiNapoli treats packaging as art you want to display, and tests it ruthlessly: picture only the box on a shelf. "Is that gonna tell the story? Are they gonna know what we're trying to say? And if not, we're not doing our job right." The constant is balancing commerce against art.

Why is packaging more important than ever?

Because people now buy fragrance without smelling it. With digital retail and social media replacing the store counter, the bottle is the first and often only point of entry. "People are buying fragrances now without knowing what they smell like," DiNapoli says, which magnified the role of packaging.

How do you balance packaging cost against the formula budget?

By knowing the budget before designing anything. DiNapoli says nothing frustrates him more than a brief with no real budget, because beautiful work that runs triple the cost is pointless. "If they're three times over the budget, what's the point?" Experience lets him design within the right price world from the start.

How does skincare branding differ from fragrance?

Efficacy comes first, packaging second. For skincare, DiNapoli says the clinical result matters most, and the design must still tell the story without overshadowing the science. He points to the Italian brand Aquium, created by an oncologist for dry, cracked skin, where "the two came together," pairing a proven formula with elevated design.

Listen to the full episode with Jon DiNapoli of JMD on Skin Anarchy, available wherever you get your podcasts.

How fragrance stopped answering the question of who we are and started answering the question of how we want to feel. There was a time when one perfume could follow a person through an entire life, sitting quietly on a vanity for years and becoming so closely associated with its owner that family members could recognize it before a word was spoken. Fragrance functioned almost like a signature, chosen in the same way someone selected a favorite watch, a hairstyle, or a piece of clothing, eventually becoming inseparable from the story they told about themselves and the story others told about them. That relationship feels increasingly unfamiliar today. Ask someone in their twenties what perfume they wear, and there is a good chance the answer will involve several bottles rather than one. There is a fragrance for work, a fragrance for weekends, a fragrance for staying home, a fragrance for difficult days, a fragrance for confidence, a fragrance for comfort, and often a fragrance reserved for moments that are impossible to explain but easy to recognize. Recent reporting on younger fragrance consumers suggests that Gen Z increasingly treats perfume as a rotating wardrobe rather than a lifelong commitment, with many consumers owning multiple fragrances and selecting them according to mood, activity, or personal expression rather than relying on a single signature scent. What initially appears to be a story about consumption quickly becomes a story about culture. The growing fragrance wardrobe is not simply evidence that people are buying more perfume. It reflects a broader shift in the way people understand identity itself. For decades, fragrance was tied to identity because identity itself was expected to feel relatively stable. People asked themselves who they were and searched for the perfume that best reflected the answer. The bottle represented consistency, permanence, and a version of the self that could be communicated without explanation. Increasingly, the question consumers appear to be asking is not who they are, but how they hope to feel on any given day, a subtle distinction that may explain more about the modern fragrance market than any trending note, celebrity launch, or viral TikTok recommendation. Walk into a fragrance store today and something unusual happens. Customers rarely begin by describing ingredients. They do not necessarily arrive looking for rose, sandalwood, patchouli, or vanilla. Instead, they arrive searching for emotional states. They want something comforting before a stressful week. They want something calming after a difficult period. They want a scent that feels optimistic, grounded, romantic, nostalgic, reassuring, creative, or restorative. And what has emerged over the last several years is a noticeably more emotional relationship with fragrance, one in which scent is being chosen less as a declaration of identity and more as a way of shaping experience, regulating mood, creating routine, or establishing a sense of comfort within an increasingly unpredictable world. Research examining younger fragrance consumers suggests this approach is increasingly common. Gen Z shoppers frequently rotate multiple fragrances throughout the week and are significantly less committed to the idea of a lifelong signature scent than previous generations. Instead of searching for a fragrance capable of representing them indefinitely, many appear more interested in building collections that respond to different moods, routines, environments, and versions of themselves. A generation that creates playlists for every emotional state has begun approaching fragrance in much the same way. The perfume worn while reading does not necessarily belong in the same category as the perfume worn before a presentation. The scent associated with travel may have little in common with the scent chosen for a quiet evening at home. The fragrance collection becomes something closer to a personal emotional toolkit, assembled gradually and used according to circumstance. Moreover, the modern fragrance collection tells a very different story from the one previous generations told. A signature scent was designed to answer the question of who someone was. The contemporary fragrance wardrobe increasingly answers a different question altogether, helping people navigate how they hope to feel as they move through different versions of their day, their week, and sometimes even themselves. Part of this shift can be traced back to the way younger consumers discovered fragrance in the first place. Previous generations encountered perfume primarily through department store counters, glossy magazine advertisements, carefully photographed campaigns, and occasional recommendations passed from friend to friend. Fragrance existed as an event. Someone sampled several options, selected one, and often remained loyal to it for years. The arrival of Gen Z into fragrance fundamentally altered that relationship because an entire generation discovered perfume through the internet rather than through department store counters, magazine advertisements, or traditional beauty retail. TikTok, Reddit, YouTube, Fragrantica, Discord groups, and online fragrance communities transformed perfume into an ongoing conversation rather than an occasional purchase. Discovery became constant. What once required a department store visit can now happen from a phone screen while sitting on a couch at midnight. A single evening spent scrolling through TikTok, Reddit, Fragrantica, or YouTube can introduce someone to dozens of fragrances they have never smelled, each accompanied by descriptions that sound more like short stories than product reviews. People now ask for fragrances that smell like old libraries, forgotten train stations, rainy cities, fantasy novels, dark academia, late-night cafés, family vacations, university campuses, coastal roads, vintage bookstores, childhood bedrooms, or the particular feeling of staying awake too late reading while everyone else in the house has already gone to sleep. A fragrance is no longer described exclusively by what it contains, but rather what it evokes. Social media accelerated that transition dramatically. Industry reporting suggests that younger consumers are heavily influenced by digital fragrance communities and are significantly more likely to experiment with multiple scents rather than commit to a single signature bottle, transforming perfume from a static personal identifier into an evolving form of self-expression. The result is a generation that often approaches fragrance less like a product and more like a narrative. What makes this shift particularly fascinating is that it arrives alongside another cultural conversation that appears, at first, entirely unrelated: people are increasingly talking about loneliness. In 2023, the U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory on Loneliness and Isolation warned that roughly half of American adults experience loneliness and described social disconnection as a significant challenge affecting health, well-being, and community life. The advisory highlighted broader declines in social connection and emphasized the growing importance of community, belonging, and meaningful relationships. Fragrance did not create that reality, yet the scents attracting the strongest emotional responses often seem remarkably aligned with it. Consider the notes generating the strongest emotional reactions among fragrance enthusiasts today. Tea. Rice. Paper. Skin musk. Warm laundry. Milk. Soft woods. Cashmere. Vanilla. These notes rarely communicate status particularly well. They are not obvious symbols of opulence. They do not announce themselves from across a room. What they offer instead is familiarity; the things people return to. Looking at the fragrances producing the most passionate responses online, it becomes difficult to ignore how often people describe them through feelings of comfort, familiarity, security, calm, and emotional restoration. Consumers are not simply buying perfume. They are purchasing atmosphere, routine, ritual, and emotional texture in a culture that often feels fragmented, overstimulated, and perpetually in motion. The emotional function becomes just as important as the perfume itself, which creates the contrast between generations; making the story even more interesting. The contrast between millennials and Gen Z is particularly revealing. Millennials came of age during an era that still valued permanence. Signature fragrances, capsule wardrobes, dream jobs, five-year plans, and long-term identity markers all occupied a meaningful place within the culture. Gen Z entered adulthood in a far more fluid environment, moving between multiple online communities, multiple aesthetics, multiple platforms, and often multiple versions of themselves. It is perhaps unsurprising that fragrance evolved alongside them. A single perfume no longer feels sufficient for people accustomed to curating different facets of their identity across different contexts. Rather than expecting one perfume to represent an entire personality, younger generations frequently use multiple fragrances to represent different emotional landscapes. The fragrance wardrobe mirrors a broader cultural reality in which people move constantly between professional identities, online identities, creative identities, social identities, and private identities. Modern life increasingly feels modular, and fragrance has adapted accordingly. The rise of the fragrance wardrobe reflects the way contemporary identity is being lived. People no longer experience themselves as one continuous version of themselves throughout the day. The person who signs into work in the morning may not feel completely identical to the person reading in bed that evening. Different environments call for different forms of self-expression. Different emotional states call for different forms of comfort. Fragrance responds to that reality with remarkable ease. For decades, fragrance helped answer the question of who someone was. Today’s fragrance culture increasingly helps answer the question of how someone hopes to feel. They want fragrances capable of meeting them wherever life happens to place them next. In a culture increasingly organized around moods, rituals, emotional self-awareness, and continual adaptation, the death of the signature scent does not represent indecision at all. It reflects the reality that modern life requires more than one version of ourselves, and that fragrance has become one of the most elegant ways we move between them.

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