There is nothing cold about this scent. It’s a warm touch on the shoulder, as you are entangled in green vines of black licorice. The spices and gentle sweetness will warm your surroundings. The is climate change for your skin.
Dark corners of a room seem to creep and reach out as the midnight clouds steal the last remaining shards of moonlight. Memories of smoky dreams are lost within your mind. Ruminating over the scent of mystery and nightfall, the fire you went through drifts along the air, the spices of heartache linger on the skin. Assured, you know morning will come, the darkness will subside, and the theory that everything remains dreadful will be smashed and broken.
Flowers spiked with grit, laying next to a disheveled bed and a pair of black Doc Martens… This is the Dirty Flower Factory machine, made up of jasmine, rose, orange blossom, spiced with pepper and grounded with musk and ambergris. A scent for those that don’t want to smell pretty all the time.
Those moments when scent lingers longer than expected. Warmth and bright new mornings collide when passersby glance, noting something different in the air. Eyes close as they take in dark-roasted coffee, vanilla and amber. Their usual route is abandoned; it’s you they follow.