Figue, At The Table

I have to be honest: before this month, I had never eaten a fresh fig. I’ve always loved fig jam, though. Fig jam on a charcuterie board? Absolutely. Fig jam and brie? Heck yeah, sign me up. Somehow I’ve just never had figs on the brain at the exact moment figs were actually in season. And wow, I’ve already said “fig” an unreasonable number of times in one paragraph, so let’s move on.

A few months ago, I tried to create a fig perfume and I hated it. If this were Macarra 20 years ago, I probably would have adored it because it was sweet, syrupy and very easy to like. But now it just felt artificial to me. It smelled more like a fig drink than fig juice, if that makes sense. There was sweetness, but not enough depth or tension underneath it to make me want to keep smelling. So I shelved it.

I gave it some time, let it sit in the back of my mind, and eventually decided I had been approaching fig from the wrong direction. Instead of focusing so heavily on the fruit, I started thinking about the leaf. I’m a real grown-up now — sort of — and I’ve realized that even when I want something sweet, I want it with a little bite and a little edge. I don’t want to smell like a candy bomb. I want the fragrance equivalent of those little sweets you get at turndown in a really good hotel. You eat one, realize it is far better than it needed to be, and then find yourself asking the front desk where they came from. Or, if you happen to catch housekeeping in the hallway, whether they have a few more.

That was the kind of sweetness I wanted Figue to have. Something beautiful and immediately enjoyable, but with enough going on underneath it to make you curious. It took a few attempts and, honestly, a few months, but eventually I got it right.

Figue has completely taken over my mind. I wear it almost every day, and half the time I’m sitting at my desk working from home with nowhere to go and no one around to smell me. I spray it because I want to smell it. I think that says a lot about how I feel about this one. It’s sweet in an understated way, bright and crisp with a green edge, and it projects without becoming overwhelming. There’s something sharp about it, but it never cuts. It just keeps the whole fragrance alive. I keep reaching for it over and over again, and at the moment, it might actually be my favorite. (Please do not tell the others).

The timing of all of this worked out perfectly because I finished and launched Figue toward the end of summer, right when fresh figs started showing up everywhere. Then good old Publix put them on BOGO, which obviously meant I bought far too many and pulled my baker hat out of storage. Once I had the fruit sitting in front of me, I wanted to bring Figue to life in another way I love: through food.

The whole fragrance already feels Mediterranean to me, so I knew I wanted to start with an olive oil cake. I made a soft, rich olive oil cake and filled it with homemade fig jam, and it turned out exactly the way I hoped it would. The cake is lush without feeling heavy, the fig adds just enough sweetness, and the olive oil gives it that beautiful savory edge that keeps the whole thing from becoming too precious. Then, because I was already on a roll, I made macarons too. Fig and pistachio felt like the obvious pairing, and I was right. They were ridiculous.

That baking day made me realize I want to do more of this. Fragrance and food live in the same part of my brain anyway, and I love the idea of taking a perfume and asking what it would taste like, what you would serve beside it, or what ingredients belong in the same world. Not in a literal way, but in the same way I think about balance when I’m creating a fragrance: sweetness against bitterness, softness against texture, something familiar with one thing that keeps it interesting.

Figue has already been one of the best sellers at our pop-ups, and I really think this one has staying power. It doesn’t feel like a summer-only fragrance to me. There’s enough brightness for warm weather, enough depth to carry into fall, and enough green freshness to bring it right back around again in spring. I have a feeling this is going to become one of those fragrances a lot of you simply keep reaching for.

And since I have been having entirely too much fun with it, I have a couple of things for you. I’m sharing the recipe for the olive oil cake (which is heavy on the lemon and vanilla beans), so you can bring a little bit of Figue into your own kitchen. And for a limited time, Figue is also 10% off with code FIGUESUMMER.

Because I want you to have a little more joy in your life.

GET THE RECIPE →

DISCOVER FIGUE →

If you make this incredible cake, please send me a photo. I genuinely want to see it.

x, Macarra Nicolette & Co.