At his Arab Street atelier, Johari Kazura builds on three generations of perfumery, shaping Sifr Aromatics into a modern expression of heritage
It is early morning and Arab Street stirs awake—with the rustle of fabric and the clatter of shutters sounding, and aromas drifting from Turkish grills and Middle Eastern cafés as the neighbourhood comes to life. Along the stretch, a wooden door opens into another world. There, the scent of resinous oud lingers in the air, tempered by the brightness of citrus peel and the faint smoke of oils long steeped. Teak cupboards stand like sentinels, their glass panes glinting in the half‑light, filled with amber vials and antique flacons. The space feels at once like an archive and a workshop, a perfumery and a wizard’s den. This is Sifr Aromatics, the atelier of Johari Kazura— where memory and raw material are distilled into the language of scent.
For Johari, perfumery was never a profession so much as a world inherited. His grandfather Hanifa established the Kazura Company in Singapore’s Kampong Gelam in 1933 after migrating here from South India. In the mid‑1970s, his son—and Johari’s father—Jamal rebranded the trade store, which sold books, incense and pilgrimage goods, into Jamal Kazura Aromatics, specialising in minyak attar—natural perfume oils drawn from flowers, herbs, spices and woods—and original blends whose recipes he meticulously recorded in a notebook. It was in this world that Johari grew up, living in the family’s shophouse on Arab Street, where Jamal Kazura Aromatics became a household name. “The shop was like my playground,” he recalls.

Above The amber vials and antique flacons within Sifr Aromatics (Photo: Melvin Wong)
“I was comfortable around the materials, sticky things, things that smell way too strong.” That comfort, learnt through instinct rather than training, became the foundation of his philosophy on perfumery, which was formed in what he describes as the equivalent of a family kitchen. “I have a very different take on [it] than, say, somebody who went to the French perfume schools, or that works for one of the big perfume houses and started their own line,” he observes.
A political science and economics graduate from the University of Michigan, Johari had returned to Singapore on the first dot‑com bust (in 2000) and helped out at the family business, dabbling in sales. While standing behind the counter, he began noticing the chasm between two worlds: that of the glossy department store perfumes that commanded premium prices, and the one inhabited by those crafted by traditional perfumeries catering largely to local and regional communities. “But when you looked closely, you see the same ingredients—lavender, sandalwood, aromatic chemicals,” he says. “The output was just framed differently.”
Unsure of his next step, Johari took a long sabbatical to explore. He enrolled in courses in Grasse, the cradle of French perfumery, and travelled across Europe with his grandfather’s old supplier address book in hand. In Portugal, Spain and beyond, he traced the sources of materials that had long sustained the family trade, gathering ideas and inspiration without a fixed plan. When Johari returned to Singapore, he knew he could not, as he put it, “spring these ideas on the family business”, weighted as it was with tradition and expectation.
And so in 2010, he opened Sifr Aromatics—its name taken from the Arabic word “Sifr”, meaning “zero”—as both homage and declaration of intent. “I wanted to start on a blank slate, but still populate it with everything I grew up with: my formulas, my grandfather’s and father’s favourite suppliers.”

Above The oils at Sifr Aromatics (Photo: Melvin Wong)
Inside the atelier, the continuity is tangible: old photographs of Johari’s father and grandfather share space with teak cabinets salvaged from shuttered shophouses and custom‑built counters, many fashioned by Johari and his team. “When shops around here closed, I took part of their wooden furniture and tried to reintegrate it into the store,” he says, “so it never leaves the neighbourhood.”
Running Sifr Aromatics, however, has never been only about blending oils. Johari notes how some perfumers devote themselves solely to creation, while his own reality is broader: sourcing materials, managing staff, designing furniture and keeping the shop alive through challenges such as Covid‑19. He recalls how, when global border closures and restrictions during the health crisis left Kampong Gelam unusually quiet, Sifr Aromatics leaned on its loyal Singaporean clients and adjusted to a slower, more uncertain pace. For him, it was a reminder that perfumery here is not only about artistry; it is also about keeping the doors open so the work can continue. The demands of business sit alongside the craft, shaping the atelier as much as the scents themselves.

Above Third generation perfumer Johari Kazura of Sifr Aromatics (Photo: Melvin Wong)
Even today, the community Johari has built around Sifr Aromatics is integral to its survival as an artisanal perfume shop. His clients span a wide spectrum, though most are Singaporeans who stumble upon the atelier out of curiosity or word of mouth. “A large part of them are Singaporeans, across all walks,” he says. “Here, it’s not really one ethnic group or one religion; it’s just people who love scents.”
Visitors often arrive expecting something familiar, only to find shelves of amber vials and hundreds of raw ingredients. Some are curious about oud, one of the world’s most prized materials; others want an easy, everyday scent. International guests drop by too, sometimes to sit with Johari and work through a perfume brief for a customised scent—a conversational process where he asks simple questions that draw out the client’s idea of scent before shaping a formula using anywhere from five to 15 ingredients, selected from the three to four hundred he keeps on hand.
Workshops extend this approach to a wider audience. TikTok has brought in a younger crowd, many intrigued by molecules they have seen online. “They’ll come in and ask to smell something really obscure that only perfumers usually know,” Johari says. “It’s nice to see that kind of curiosity.”
The business of scent, Johari notes, runs deep in his family. His aunts, uncles and cousins—spread across India, Singapore and the Middle East—are part of the wider trade. Some run perfumeries, others supply aromatics for products as varied as hair oils and detergents. This network gave him a sense of belonging, but also reinforced his desire to carve out something distinct. Sifr Aromatics became his way of forging a Singaporean and Southeast Asian voice in the global niche perfume conversation, distinct from—yet informed by—his family’s heritage.
For the future, Johari sees Sifr Aromatics further expanding within the niche category and presenting a series of small, carefully placed outposts—pop‑ups or ateliers that carry a Southeast Asian story into other cities—while Arab Street remains its anchor. “It’s not about being in every department store,” he says. “It’s about interesting places, with good company.”
In that way, Sifr Aromatics stays true to its beginnings: shaped by instinct as much as formula, rooted in tradition yet open to experiment. In the very same neighbourhood his grandfather started out all those years ago, Johari continues to distil memory, raw material and imagination into scent—proving that legacy is not only preserved but also reimagined.
NOW READ




