Funeral homes work hard to eliminate the smell of death. In fact, odor elimination is a fairly substantial category for suppliers, with products ranging from professional-grade sprays and gels to ozone generators to comprehensive HVAC air filtration and purification systems. Simply put, you don’t want the funeral home to smell like, well, a funeral home.
So why are some consumers paying good money to smell like they just stepped out of a chapel service?
Funeral scents in my feed
Yep, the scents of all things “death” — funeral homes, flowers, cemeteries, and even embalming fluid — are all the rage. You’ve probably seen plenty of these product ads in your social feeds if you’ve ever even hinted that you’re a deathcare professional (thanks so much, Zuckerburg).
The most literal example that stalks my personal Facebook feed is Demeter Funeral Home Cologne Spray, a fragrance described as a blend of lilies, carnations, gladiolus, chrysanthemums, stems, leaves, “mahogany and oriental carpet.” According to the brand’s origin story, the scent’s creator reportedly said it “smells like my Grandfather’s funeral,” and the name stuck.
But Demeter is hardly alone. Indie brands now offer perfumes called “Funeral Flowers,” “Cemetery,” and simply “Death,” many leaning into notes of dirt, sweet grass, wilted petals, sandalwood, and incense. What is still an environmental challenge for funeral professionals has become a niche aesthetic.
Reddit, of course
If you want to understand why, just head to Reddit.
In a widely discussed thread on r/Perfumes, one user asked how to avoid smelling like a “funeral home,” only to discover that dozens of commenters actively wanted that effect. “I know it’s weird but now I kinda want funeral home perfume,” one user wrote.
In a separate discussion, a user seeking something “dark and kind of ‘funeral-y’” was met with recommendations for lily-heavy and gothic florals. “The lilies and white florals are most definitely the culprit,” one person said, while another added, even more succinctly, “It’s the lily that’s giving funeral vibes.”
And there it is — apparently, it’s not the smell of death itself, specifically, but the smell of flowers that evokes these familiar, funereal “vibes.”
For most families, “funeral home smell” doesn’t mean human decomposition. It means an overwhelming blend of white florals — lilies, carnations, chrysanthemums — layered with greenery and, in some traditions, incense. In Catholic and Orthodox services, frankincense is common; in Muslim funerals, mourners often encounter bakhoor or oud — all scents associated with ritual, sanctity, and memories.
Not flowers, but formaldehyde?
But then there’s the second, more controversial angle: the chemical association.
In 2024, Lost Cherry by Tom Ford sparked debate when some social media users claimed it smelled like embalming fluid. Reports suggested the cherry-almond note (benzaldehyde) overlaps with chemicals used in mortuary settings. One embalmer told the New York Post that while working with cadavers, they wondered, “Who here is wearing Lost Cherry?” while a death doula commented, “I’ve smelled this at wakes before for folks who chose to be embalmed.”
The folks behind those social media ads probably need to adjust their algorithms — deathcare professionals shouldn’t be among their target audiences. Clearly, though, there are those who are intrigued by or attracted to the scents of a casket spray or funeral wreath and the clinical chemistry of preparation rooms.
Sending a message?
What does this say about culture? Perhaps that scent, like grief, is deeply personal. The same lily that signals loss for one person evokes romance or elegance for another. The incense that speaks of sacred farewell for one family becomes atmospheric and mysterious on someone’s pulse points. We’re not sure about embalming fluid, though; that one’s a head-scratcher.
Maybe the takeaway isn’t that people want to smell like death. It’s that they want to smell like a ritual, or like the memory of those last moments with a beloved grandfather.
And if that happens to come with a hint of lily and mahogany carpet — apparently, there’s a bottle for that.
