Additional information
Weight | 1 oz |
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$29.00
A scarecrow’s cologne, crunchy with hay and spattered with foamy, sweet soil: a cornmeal fougere with patchouli root, clove bud, honey stout, roasted oats, fermented apple pulp, and bourbon cream.
Art by Drew Rausch!
Weight | 1 oz |
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Jasmine tea and lapsang souchong, white ginger, clove bud, soft lichen, osmanthus buds, green patchouli, and amber.
The grave of the Countess Mircalla was opened; and the General and my father recognized each his perfidious and beautiful guest, in the face now disclosed to view. The features, though a hundred and fifty years had passed since her funeral, were tinted with the warmth of life. Her eyes were open; no cadaverous smell exhaled from the coffin. The two medical men, one officially present, the other on the part of the promoter of the inquiry, attested the marvelous fact that there was a faint but appreciable respiration, and a corresponding action of the heart. The limbs were perfectly flexible, the flesh elastic; and the leaden coffin floated with blood, in which to a depth of seven inches, the body lay immersed.
A shimmering pool of coppery red musk, Dracaena cinnabari, clove bud, cacao, and lead.
Adam, our suicidally romantic scoundrel. His scent is a palette of somber colors, melancholy memories, and lupine, savage beauty: black leather, pale sandalwood, ambergris accord, and the memory of a long-lost Victorian fougère. His internal life seems to be reflected in his lair, so his perfume also possesses the scent of the wood of his guitars, the rosin from his violin bow, the musty wool of neglected Oriental carpets, the plastic, metal, and magnetic tape of his reel-to-reel, the dust that permeates everything.
Black roses, Pashmina oud, clove bud, opoponax, kyphi smoke, tobacco absolute, and orris butter.
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