ORATORIO: BEHIND THE SCENES

text by Tomáš Ric, founder of Pigmentarium

In less than a week, I’ll be stepping onto the stage at one of the world’s most prestigious perfumery fairs – Pitti Fragranze in Florence – to speak to experts and journalists from across the globe. I’ll be sharing the spotlight with names that are globally respected in the world of niche perfumery. It’s a thrilling prospect, but not without a dose of nerves. Will I say everything I set out to share? Will anyone show up? And what, after all, is the true essence of Pigmentarium that I am meant to convey? Why does the brand exist in the first place? As I draft my outline and prepare slides in PowerPoint, I find myself travelling back to the very beginning. There’s a sense of nostalgia (something I’m prone to) but also pride in what our team – and the many people who have, at different stages, helped shape the brand – have achieved. Preparing for Pitti has made me pause and reflect on who we are, who I am, and what defines Pigmentarium as a perfume house.

Shared values, joy and understanding. These are what underpin every artistic endeavour, every collaboration, every new fragrance we set out to create. Yet the finest projects were never really “planned” at all – they simply happened. Ten minutes over coffee, a dinner together, a walk through the city – these moments became the foundations of our most successful works. Because without joy, there is no open mind; without an open mind, no creativity; and without creativity, perhaps nothing worth looking back on a year from now – or even a decade.

Oratorio, in many ways a milestone fragrance for us, was unveiled in the autumn of 2023. Alongside it, we introduced its creator – a new perfumer working with Pigmentarium, Théo Belmas. A Frenchman based in Paris, not from Prague, nor even from the Czech Republic. I remember how, a year earlier, a question kept circling in my mind: Would it still be Pigmentarium?

In 2022, faced with the challenge of selecting a new perfumer for Pigmentarium, I searched for someone who carried Prague’s genius loci in their very blood. Yet the more intently I pursued that vision, the less I seemed to find. Success only came a few months later—when I stopped searching altogether.

All it took was recognising my own outlook and setting aside the boundaries in my head. I see my generation as inherently global. National borders feel like relics of another time. And no, this doesn’t mean losing touch with home or one’s native country—quite the opposite. It means understanding and valuing them within the wider context of the world.

After two highly successful fragrance premieres in Paris, we had begun to build a vibrant, creative community around us. We stayed in touch—sometimes closely, more often from afar—with a number of talented people who, like us, were striving for their own place on the creative summit. One day I opened Instagram and decided to reach out to someone who had lingered in my memory. A perfumer. I thought: I’ll just write to him and see what happens. Théo replied within a minute. We arranged a call for a few days later. At that time, we were in the middle of moving Pigmentarium into a new studio on Janáčkovo nábřeží. My very first meeting in the new space—perhaps with the perfumer who would shape our future. 

Up until then, I knew nothing about Théo. Just intuition—and those two Instagram messages. In the end, our first meeting stretched into two and a half hours. We shared personal stories, our ambitions, and where we were headed as two peers living in different corners of the world. Théo is the kind of person who makes you feel that you matter. He offers that rare sense of understanding, warmth, and attentiveness—sharing with you as if you were a close friend. Two days later, a parcel arrived with samples of his earlier work. A week on, we confirmed our collaboration. And within a month, Théo was in Prague, walking with me through the winter streets.

“Prague through a stranger’s eyes” — that was one of the official lines we used when launching Oratorio. Imagine walking through your own city while your guest keeps pointing out, with delight: “Look at that, how beautiful those colours on the buildings are.” Over those few days, we talked endlessly and wandered through the places that give Prague its character and set it apart. We knew the purpose of this visit was to shape a fragrance, yet neither of us forced it.

One of our stops inevitably had to be a Baroque church. From Charles Bridge we stepped into the Church of the Most Holy Saviour—the very place where, as a student, I would regularly take in the sermons of Tomáš Halík. From the bustle of the street, we were suddenly wrapped in silence, in the all-encompassing scent of incense, ancient wood, and the coolness of stone. Through the tall windows poured the bright winter sun, shifting our perception of the space. Rays of light warmed the skin. Inhale. Exhale. This was it. And we hardly needed to say a word.

Cold and warmth. Darkness and light. Mystery and hope. Opposites joined in a single symbiosis. Now it was only a matter of finding the tools—the ingredients—to give form to our idea. I admire perfumers for the way they navigate between the rigour of exact chemistry and the freedom of an artist unwilling to be bound by rules.

Three types of frankincense, opoponax resin, cedarwood and patchouli leaves: the mystical coolness and earthy depth, like an autumn morning. Hand-pressed mandarin peel oil, Egyptian jasmine blossoms and neroli: the radiant warmth of sunlight on skin, an Indian summer.

We unveiled Oratorio in quick succession across two cities: first in Paris, in sight of the glittering Eiffel Tower, and then in Prague, within the once-private rooms of a grand old palace. Yet behind the sheen of soirées, cocktails and press conferences, something far more significant took place. A deep friendship emerged—built on respect, creativity and inspiration. Each time I meet Théo, months apart, I find myself learning from him. I suspect he doesn’t even realise it.

Pigmentarium itself is a story of friendship, of respect, and of the joy found in creating together. Of the joy of sharing. At times, I forget this—days move quickly. Which is why I’m grateful for the chance to look back, whether prompted by preparations for a conference in Florence, or simply for my own sake.

I reach for Oratorio as a reminder—so I don’t forget. To stay consciously present. To keep alive the thread that ties the past to the present.