Vast open tents have been erected further down the lane. Ornately carved wooden poles support swaths of drooping black lace and blood-crusted burgundy velvet. Grapevines and ivy creep over the beams in the tent and curl like cocoons around bodies that hang upside-down in the caliginous gloom of the tents. Within the shadows, pale figures recline on divans covered in moldering, frayed fabric. As you pass, a feral, white-haired man hoists a tall-stemmed crystal glass of deep red liquid in a toast to you.
Blood accord, bitter clove, English ivy, Tempranillo grape, red currant, oak, leather, blackberry leaf, and ginger lily.
I can make out the backdrop of Snow White’s scent here, but it’s faint. The spice stands out quite a bit followed by the linen and honey. I would say there’s a general “milkiness” to the scent especially at first, but I couldn’t say whether it smells like boba or not. It’s quite sweet at this stage. As it dries down it’s the spice and linen/cleanness of the scent that linger. Not a lot of throw and not super lasting in it’s first stage, but a very lovely scent.