Utterly abstract fragrance that simultaneously smells very alien while at the same time is suggestive of so many different things.
First off, it smells very yellow. And that's not just because I know mimosa is one of the notes. A single whiff of this and that's the singular colour that comes to mind, a deep, intense yellow. It also smells hot and dusty, but this isn't the hot dustiness of an arid landscape: it's the glassy and metallic lustre of a hot light bulb,or a fan heater blasting out warmth on a cold winter's day. The wine note present is somehow also marine, but it's the sea in the distance, with only the slightest suggestion of it carried on a breeze. Above all, this is astonishingly airy and suggestive of vast, wide open spaces, but it's the space of an unused storage warehouse or an unoccupied office block. As for wood, I get none.
This is quite unlike any perfume I've encountered, and had Christophe Laudamiel not discontinued his Zoo line, it would be backup bottle worthy.
Utterly abstract fragrance that simultaneously smells very alien while at the same time is suggestive of so many different things.
First off, it smells very yellow. And that's not just because I know mimosa is one of the notes. A single whiff of this and that's the singular colour that comes to mind, a deep, intense yellow. It also smells hot and dusty, but this isn't the hot dustiness of an arid landscape: it's the glassy and metallic lustre of a hot light bulb,or a fan heater blasting out warmth on a cold winter's day. The wine note present is somehow also marine, but it's the sea in the distance, with only the slightest suggestion of it carried on a breeze. Above all, this is astonishingly airy and suggestive of vast, wide open spaces, but it's the space of an unused storage warehouse or an unoccupied office block. As for wood, I get none.
This is quite unlike any perfume I've encountered, and had Christophe Laudamiel not discontinued his Zoo line, it would be backup bottle worthy.