Anyone who has ever stepped into your unforgettable boutique on Mokotowska, today relocated to Rozbrat in Warsaw, remembers exactly the beautiful scent that lingered there.  

Yes, it was the hallmark of that place. Soothing and intriguing at the same time. People who entered the shop remembered it immediately. During the pandemic many people wrote to us that they missed exactly that moment. At that time the scent became a link between us and our customers; the orders we sent them smelled of the place, a scent they knew and with which they associated real emotions. This experience was the impulse to create perfumes and candles, and it was then that I understood that scent is more than just an accessory. It is also an emotion, a memory, a story.  

Did Terra arise from this story?  

Yes. It was a natural step. “Terra” is the scent of earth – deeply rooted, multi-layered. High-quality botanical oils, a complex composition. Terra means earth; it is inspired by Sicily and the symbolism of the island, regarded as a spiritual refuge, a cosmos, happiness, beauty, order, perfection and femininity. They have a woody base and an earthy, herbal scent. The fragrance grounds (in a spiritual sense) and balances.  

What does the newest Santissima tell?  

Santissíma in Italian means The Most Holy; the intention was to create a mystical composition connecting us with the Absolute. The scent is a mosaic of emotions, memories and experiences that have come together into a coherent and complete story. The strongest inspiration for this composition is Venice – which has fascinated me for years. Italy is often my starting point in my work. I speak Italian, I studied in Rome, I have my places, friends, experiences and adventures in Tuscany, Sicily is my energetic point where I found my love. I remember one of the last trips to Venice with my daughter – it was her fifth or sixth birthday. We drove there and arrived at two in the morning. We spent only a day there, in a break on the way to Tuscany, but it was an intense, beautiful day. The colors of Venice – emeralds, pale pinks, pastel greens – have always moved me. They reminded me of the paintings of Renaissance masters. There was something luminous, almost mystical in them. And the scent – incense in churches, old furniture, velvet drapes. Venice, despite its commercialization, still has something true and unsaid about it. It was my fascination with Venice that gave rise to Santissima – its energy is clear and radiant.   

Can scent be a form of support? 

I believe that objects – like people – carry energy within them. We surround ourselves with symbols that are meant to protect us, strengthen us, restore balance. For me scent can be precisely such an amulet that works on the senses and emotions. Both Santissima and Terra were born from this need. They are not just perfumes but little rituals in pocket form – blends of natural botanical oils, sealed in 10-milliliter roll-on bottles. Their small format allows you to always have them with you, to reach for them when needed – not only to refresh the scent, but also to pause, lift your mood, come back to yourself. The symbol of the Venetian lion means a lot to me – the patron of Venice, embodying strength, pride and courage. It became one of the spiritual reference points for these compositions. Scent as a talisman, Venice as inspiration, and an ecological formula as a conscious choice – all of this contributes to their meaning. 

What shaped you olfactorily? 

Definitely the family home. I remember the scent of clean floors and starched bedding. Those scents had depth, warmth, authenticity. I remember my grandmother’s wardrobe, where she kept scarves sprayed with her favorite perfumes. She always said: "There cannot be twenty scents in a wardrobe – there must be one, dominant. Otherwise they clash." I owe a lot to travel as well. I love the scent of southern Italy – dry, hot, ripe. The smell of cleanliness, a kind of primal freshness. 

Italy is very close to you, but you grew up, create and live in Warsaw? What does this city smell like to you? 

For me Warsaw has more of a color than a scent. And a specific color – gray, concrete, maybe even black. When I lived in Italy and studied in Rome, we often talked about the colors of cities. If I had been born there, my collections would probably be different – full of strong, saturated colors, like in the paintings of Paul Gauguin. But I come from Poland. And Poland – especially Warsaw – to me is a land and city of concrete, crooked sidewalks from communist times, contemporary art in the vein of Władysław Hasior or Magdalena Abakanowicz. It is a completely different energy – raw and Central-Eastern. I feel that it is here I was "forged." My projects – both clothes and scents – are a mix of these worlds: Parisian chic and Italian tenderness, Warsaw hardness. They may not always match, but together they create something that I hope brings a new quality. 

If you had to choose between scent and color? 

I think one doesn't work without the other. Color and scent affect different senses, and life – if it is to be full – needs both. When the senses are balanced, everything is in its place. The black that has become my trademark isn't really a color in the classical sense. But within that black – urban, elegant, yet also very southern and intense – lies a whole palette of meanings. Just like in scent. My compositions are like journeys – multi-layered, personal. And perhaps it is in that synergy – between the absence of color and the fullness of scent – that I find myself most. 

How do you care for your daily mental harmony? What gives you energy? 

Harmony in my life comes more from rhythm than from specific rituals. My day is repetitive – I get up at the same time, make coffee, prepare breakfast for my daughter, walk her to school. And then life arranges itself – sometimes calmly, sometimes chaotically – but this rhythm keeps me from falling off track. For me it's a bit like a dance – you have to know when to speed up and when to slow down. It's about maintaining balance. And although I am a dutiful person, I allow myself something that many might find extravagant – long vacations. I have something of Italian thinking in me – in Italy in August everything closes, people go away, life slows down. I remember Rome in August – empty streets, an apocalyptic sight. And it makes sense. Because to be able to continue to act, sometimes you really need to rest. Sleep, eat something good, gain perspective. With the kind of life I lead – full of work and stimuli – a week of vacation is too little. I recharge through contrast. I live intensely – I see a lot, I hear a lot, I act. But I also need moments of complete silence. Disconnection. Lying on the beach. Reading. Silence. And only that quiet allows me to re-enter the world with full energy. Without calm there would be no intensity. 

And your most important beauty rituals are…?  

Maybe it's not the healthiest, but in the morning I like to wash my face with soap and cool water. Preferably the kind from Santa Maria Novella or Atkinsons – beautiful, classic formulas that I bring from Italy. Of course they can be bought online, but I like to buy them there, put them in my travel bag so it will smell afterward. In the evening I always do a facial massage with a gua sha. For body care – I love everything that smells of cleanliness. The scent of laundry, southern Italy, cicadas, heated air, olive trees, rosemary, jasmine, rose... but somewhere in the distance. I can't stand sweet scents or the smell of freshly cut grass. I know many love it, but it suffocates me. That's why my perfumes are different – not floral, not obvious. If I do reach for flowers, it's more as form – something to decorate an interior, not necessarily a scent for the skin. I prefer depth – patchouli, palo santo. They tell more. 

And which flowers are most often seen in a vase at your home? 

I love gladioli. Mostly white ones, because I have a weakness for white flowers and monochrome arrangements. White carries calm and a certain purity – it's a color that always moves me. I also really like peonies. In May, when they appear, they are like a reminder of childhood. Today they are considered luxurious, but once they were simply everywhere – in our grandmothers' gardens, wild, available, familiar. For me they still carry that old, effortless charm. I love watching them open – from closed spheres into huge, full blooms. Besides that, I also like greenery – leaves, grasses, textures. Delicate pistachio leaves that you can sometimes find in florists. I like how green shifts into different shades, how it plays with light. Mimosa is also beautiful – a bit unattainable, sensual, slightly luxurious. And although it has splendor, there's something ethereal about it. So if I have to choose – it's either white or green. Both are very close to me. 

How does working on a scent differ for you from working on a clothing collection? 

Both processes are equally enjoyable to me – and both require abstract thinking, which I love. Whether designing clothes or scents, the starting point is not trends or market expectations, but an internal question: what moves me? What do I want to tell? I always begin the creative process with research, which doesn't mean browsing inspirations online, but immersing myself. I look for traces of impressions, emotions, symbols that mean something to me. For me designing is storytelling. I'm not interested in creating another pair of jeans or another "pretty blouse." I create things that have a name, and behind that name stands a specific energy and story. Scents are created in a similar way. They also have their names – and their character. Some are more feminine, others more masculine, although I don't operate with those categories literally. I think of them more as beings with a certain energy, with personality. The difference is that scent is an even greater abstraction. You have to extract from memory something fleeting, sometimes not fully named – the scent of a journey, a memory of light, mood, a city.  

What did you learn about yourself while creating your own scents? 

I think these scents confirmed in me something I had intuitively felt for a long time – that I am a person curious about the world. That I can extract from every journey, even the shortest, something that remains invisible to most. And I realized that this sensitivity is worth nurturing. Curiosity about scents, colors, places. It is what feeds me. For example Santissima – this scent reminds me not only of Venice and its patron, the winged lion. It also reminds me of Renaissance paintings – of the gold and cobalt that are threaded through the perfume box, and of the little stars that often appeared in the halos of Madonnas.  

Do you have a favorite era in art history? 

Definitely the Renaissance. I am fascinated by its colors, symbolism, sensuality – but I also like contemporary art, especially constructivism, the '60s and futurism, also in design. One of my favorite painters is Filippo Lippi. In the Uffizi Gallery there is his painting Madonna and Child – we know that the model was his lover and the child was their illegitimate son. That fascinates me – that in paintings we now consider sacred there is a completely private, physical story. It shows how complex a narrative can be – and that nothing is entirely what it seems. My scents have a similar structure – they are like paintings that everyone interprets differently. As botanical oils they react with the body, with temperature, with personality. They smell different on each person. And that's where their strength lies – in their unpredictability. 

How do you wear scent? Daily, or rather on special occasions? 

Daily – it's a natural part of my daily ritual. I apply them behind my ears, on my wrists, sometimes on the nape, on my hair. It's not a random gesture – it's a kind of energetic outfit I put on. The scent prepares me to meet the world. 

Do you have rules when choosing a scent? One for years or experiments? 

From the age of sixteen until the moment I created my own perfumes, I wore only Sisley's Eau de Soir. I discovered it thanks to my friend Elżbieta Radziwiłł, an artist who designs among other things for Sisley. I remember that before I started using it I asked her if she would agree – it was so beautiful and so connected to her. She agreed, and I fell in love with it. And for years many people would tell me: "That's you. That scent is you." It was moving. Because yes, scent can become part of identity. Clothes, space, body – everything soaks up scent. That's why I believe in a conscious choice of perfumes. They say who we are. Or who we want to be. 

Are the Santissima candles an extension of it? 

Definitely yes. For me the home should also smell – like a person. And the Santissima candles were created from that need. I wanted the scent not only to be something we wear, but also something that wraps us. They create an atmosphere: calm, deep, intimate. They build a mood – like light, like sound. For me scent in a space complements presence. It's a silence that smells. 

If “Santissima” were a musical piece, how would that composition sound? 

Music is very important to me. It accompanies me at work, while traveling, in everyday life. That's why I wanted “Santissima” – like “Terra” – to have its own soundtrack. It was constructed and proposed by Federico Alesi – a DJ and producer from Palermo, owner of the wonderful restaurant Collegio dei Jesuiti, which I love to drop into. The music can be found at aniakuczynska.com/radio/ and can be listened to in the context of the whole collection, because each of these compositions was created as a complement to the scent. Interestingly, it is not classical or ambient music, although one might expect that given the spirituality behind “Santissima”. It is minimal house, very modern, sensual, pulsating. That choice is not accidental – because although the scents I create are based on classic ingredients like patchouli or palo santo, they are decidedly contemporary. Dry, multi-layered, rooted in the here and now. I don't want to classify them, but I have a feeling these are scents for women who live consciously. They are like sound – unexpected, but lingering. 

“Terra”, “Santissima”, what next? 

There will be a triptych of scents. I'm already working on it, but like any story it must come in its own time.