He Smelled Like Memory: The Story of Babyboy

Some fragrances stay on the skin. Some stay in your thoughts. Babyboy is the one that stays in both.

It doesn’t announce itself. It lingers. The kind of scent you lean into. The kind that feels like warm breath on your neck. Like someone whispering your name long after they’ve gone. It’s not loud, but it’s impossible to ignore.

That’s how Babyboy was born.

I wasn’t trying to copy a perfume. I was trying to recreate a feeling. The soft intimacy of being close to someone you’re not supposed to love this much. The blank space after a kiss. The scent of water on paper. Skin that still holds the echo of touch.

Yes, L’eau Papier was the spark. But Babyboy is the slow burn.

It opens with steamed rice for that quiet, comforting softness. Think skin just out of the shower. Then mimosa brings a pale golden glow. Airy. Gentle. Familiar. Finally, white musk curls around everything like a secret you’re not ready to share. It's clean. Subtle. Just a little provocative.

People call it a skin scent. But that doesn’t quite cover it.

Babyboy doesn’t just sit on your skin. It becomes part of you. It blurs the line between presence and memory.

If you’ve been looking for a dupe for L’eau Papier, or a scent that smells like clean sheets and long goodbyes, this is it. And if you’ve never tried anything like this before—Babyboy might surprise you in the best way.

Available now. Use code BABYBOY15 from April 15 to 20 for 15% off. Because the softest things leave the strongest mark.