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यह सिग्नेचर सुगंध है
एक खुशबू एक समय में इनमें से सिर्फ़ एक सूची में रह सकती है। दूसरी सूची चुनने पर वह उसमें चली जाती है। आपकी कस्टम सूचियाँ अलग हैं।
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क्या आपने इस सुगंध को आज़माया है?
अपना अनुभव साझा करें और दूसरों को शानदार सुगंध खोजने में मदद करें
I'm going to try to keep this brief but I feel I have a lot to say about nuit de Bakelite. I recall first sampling it a few years ago when these launched (I think there was only three then) and being impressed by the creativity of this line, they are for real 'eds it seems. This is the crown jewel according to most as well, has that smoky, green, Cellier-esque, vintage nod, but with peculiar modernity and the 1940's plastic reference in the name. Well the name is oddly appropriate because it does have this strange plastic quality, a guff of sharp but sweet musks in the opening and bizarre, green tuberose sweetened with carrot seed and angelica musk. Then comes a flip to a mossy, leathery scent and call me mad but an association with Creed's Green Irish tweed for a moment. It's strangely enigmatic and aloof with those gassy musks but resinous and deep, and flipping back to floral and green all the time. I suspect this is a polarising fragrance but clearly very popular and I get why, I think it's an excellent concept, and execution. Hugely powerful this one as well, had some horrendous comments from folks nearby me, which is always a treat when you like a perfume which pisses others off, oh and my car smelled of it for a about three days. I think it's a modern masterpiece and I want it in my collection from a perfume history perspective but I'm reluctant as I'm not sure how often I'd wear it?
This is the scent of rain lashing the pavement, turning the early evening streets into a labyrinth of slick, stagnant green. Dead leaves, twigs, and other nameless debris bob in the current and clog the gutters, their decomposition adding a cloying sweetness to the already oppressive air, the smell of things both growing and rotting. A late summer downpour that crawls under your skin, leaving you chilled even in the muggy heat. A storm drain gapes open, its maw lined with slime and moss. Down there, in the choking green depths, something shifts. A sound, not quite a giggle, not quite a rustle, echoes up from the blackness, and a voice, smooth as rain on stone, slithers softly. The sweet gurgle of a child, warped and twisted into something monstrous. "We all float down here," it echoes, a promise both terrifying and strangely alluring. "Wouldn't you like to float too?" Nuit de Bakelite is the fetid promise whispered by a monster in the dark, the smell of fear forever lodged in the back of your throat. Perfume enthusiasts x horror fans: if you know, you know. There are no words for how much I love this scent.