Fantosmia by Jorum Studio के बारे में अक्सर पूछे जाने वाले प्रश्न
Fantosmia by Jorum Studio की खुशबू कैसी है?
Fantosmia by Jorum Studio में Cardamom and Pepper के टॉप नोट्स, Fennel, Mate, Pimento, and Shiso के मिडिल नोट्स, and Cascarilla, Castoreum, Nutmeg, Saffron, Tobacco, and White Oud के बेस नोट्स हैं।
Fantosmia by Jorum Studio को किसने बनाया?
Fantosmia by Jorum Studio को Euan McCall ने बनाया था।
Jorum Studio से Fantosmia2020 में रिलीज़ हुआ था। इस रचना के पीछे इत्र निर्माता Euan McCall हैं। इसमें Cardamom and Pepper के टॉप नोट्स, Fennel, Mate, Pimento, and Shiso के मिडिल नोट्स, and Cascarilla, Castoreum, Nutmeg, Saffron, Tobacco, and White Oud के बेस नोट्स हैं।
I don’t think I know how to talk about Fantosmia from Jorum Studio, , so instead, I am just going to run their list of notes through my internal translator and speak them to you in my language. This is the scent of a leather armor repurposed into a stewing pot into which you stir the sticky sap of a wounded tree, the sour scrapings of the inner rind of a pumpkin, the last few crumbles of Transylvanian honey bread blessed by the holy sisters and studded with spirit-soaked dried plums, and a scant handful of musty seeds and peppery herbs. Stir over stones that haven’t seen sunlight in one hundred years and trap the cookfire’s ghostly smoke in a glass vial for after-dinner divinatory purposes. This scent is a cryptic recipe written in a forgotten tongue; I can almost decipher the symbols, but ultimately it remains a mystery, a riddle that I can’t solve. I can admire it, yet I can’t quite call my own.
I don’t think I know how to talk about Fantosmia from Jorum Studio, , so instead, I am just going to run their list of notes through my internal translator and speak them to you in my language. This is the scent of a leather armor repurposed into a stewing pot into which you stir the sticky sap of a wounded tree, the sour scrapings of the inner rind of a pumpkin, the last few crumbles of Transylvanian honey bread blessed by the holy sisters and studded with spirit-soaked dried plums, and a scant handful of musty seeds and peppery herbs. Stir over stones that haven’t seen sunlight in one hundred years and trap the cookfire’s ghostly smoke in a glass vial for after-dinner divinatory purposes. This scent is a cryptic recipe written in a forgotten tongue; I can almost decipher the symbols, but ultimately it remains a mystery, a riddle that I can’t solve. I can admire it, yet I can’t quite call my own.