Scent Strategy: Not a Roll of the Dice

The Palms in Las Vegas has enjoyed a certain Not-Your-Father’s-Resort ever since it hosted MTV’s The Real World series back in 2002. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the signature scent chosen in the hotel’s recent excursion into Vegas’ ambient scenting trend, an earthy-leathery aroma very much reminiscent of your father’s cologne.

The Palms scent, called Teakwood, began pumping throughout the resort’s lobby and casino in late-May and, after numerous complaints from both patrons and staff, was discontinued less than a month later. “The place literally stinks. I’d almost rather smell the smoke,” noted one visitor in his online review.

“They thought it would attract people,” concurred a Palms employee. “I think all people have been doing is complaining about it.”

Las Vegas casinos were among the first savvy institutions to recognize the effectiveness of scent marketing and have been using fragrance for years to maximize profits (when the slot machine area of one Las Vegas casino was infused heavily with a pleasant scent, revenues shot up by an astounding 53%). Starting with the pleasant Polynesian scent wafting through the vents of the Mirage in 1990, the trend quickly moved to a fresh coconut fragrance at Mandalay Bay, a light lemon and ginger fragrance at the Encore Spa, and similarly pleasing scents at Caesar’s Palace, Luxor, MGM Grand, Venetian, Monte Carlo, and virtually every big player in Sin City.

The key words here are “pleasing” and “light,” neither of which appears to have been a consideration in The Palms fragrance choice. In fact, little crucial consideration of any kind went into the all-important decision. According to AromaSys president Brad Owen, it can cost between $20,000 and $500,000 a year to effectively scent a large resort or casino, while The Palms spent only $3,200. More importantly, according to Owens, scents are generally tested on focus groups before being put into practical use. George Maloof, owner of the Palms, said his resort did not use focus groups or otherwise conduct any prior testing, but simply chose from a variety of scent samples which were offered.

And poor fragrance choice is only part of the problem, says Owen. There is also the consideration of how strong the scent should be. “You’re not going to be able to please everyone all the time, but you want to get the majority of your customers to be able to walk in and have it be not overwhelming, but barely above the conscious level.”

Whiff-Guy C. Russell Brumfield strongly concurs, likening the subtle art of scenting a space to the art of scenting one’s body. “It is the body upon which the company dabs its seductive perfume,” Brumfield asserts in Chapter 9 of Whiff! The Revolution of Scent Communication in the Information Age, Stewardship and Social Responsibility. “The essence should be inviting and alluring, enticing the customer to become the pursuer. It should beckon the visitor into its space without being an affront to the senses. The scent can create its impression at or even below the detection threshold of the customer. These are the subtle nuances in the art of delivering scent. It is no less complicated than the art of seduction, and neither endeavor should be taken lightly—for obvious reasons. If these measures are ignored, then the process can backfire. Due to scent’s capabilities to make an imprint upon the consumer’s emotions, a poorly executed scent campaign can result in a negative emotional response, and an ultimate distaste for the product or service that the scent was advertising.”