Molten glass rising from a Murano furnace becomes the unlikely starting point for a perfume story. Instead of feeding the stream into chandeliers or vases, glassmasters divert it toward a perfume house brief: translate the fractured curves of Frank Gehry’s architecture into something that fits in the palm of a hand.
The cap begins as a gather of silica-rich glass, blown and coaxed at the edge of its glass transition temperature, then pinched and twisted until its silhouette echoes Gehry’s signature deconstructivist folds. Rather than relying on molds or mass injection, artisans use canes, shears and paddles, repeating centuries-old furnace techniques and later cold-working the surface by hand. Each cap passes through annealing cycles that manage thermal expansion and internal stress, the same physics that governs large sculptural commissions, only miniaturized.
What would normally emerge as a museum-grade object is instead engineered as packaging, forcing an unusual negotiation between aesthetics and durability. The result is a limited run of caps, no two alike, that operates as both closure and sculpture. On a dressing table, the bottle reads less like a piece of beauty merchandising and more like a small, portable fragment of a Gehry façade.
