Enter the Void

An energetic and uplifting grapefruit meets something animalic, which I can't describe with any other words than just animalic , or more accurately somewhat dirty animalic . I know it doesn't sound very nice, but it is. The smell of skin. Seems horrible, I know! Still, it is as review below already mentioned, surprisingly nice. It rests on an ever so slightly sweet and stable base of sandalwood, but you don't really detect it, it's just a supporting role. The main narrative is about the grapefruit meeting the animalic, musky, and skin notes. If you know your Buxton, this has Buxton written all over it. The composition is truly artistic, unique and masterful. It's clearly not for everyone. It's not mass appealing, but somehow it still has some strange kind of appeal . I let a friend try this, who has no experience of perfume whatsoever, and the response was clearly positive 'I could wear this'. It was one of the first niche perfumes I ever experienced, and this is still, in my opinion, one of the finest niche-perfumes I know. Niche is a word that is thrown around way too lightly these days, but this is without any hesitation niche in the best sense – it's something unique, but still very alluring, and above all very intriguing.

My first whiff of this brought immediately to mind a very specific aroma - chestnut flowers - which are pretty common in Japan so it did touch on the name a bit. It does have an animalic note, though not a musky one. Chestnut flowers are one of those things that many find smell like... how do I put this in a family-friendly way? Well... like male, er, "emissions" I guess. It's a slightly alkaline note that causes the association. As it dries down that aroma integrates itself into the whole - now there's citrus, grapefruit yes, but not tart - that alkaline, along with the vanilla note of the amber, tames it, the way the vanilla in a Creamsicle reins in the orange. (Mind, do not take that to mean this smells like a Creamsicle) Despite the perfumer's description, I don't find it "dark" at all. There's definitely something sexy and sensual about it, though in an atypical way - not the usual heavy musk and gourmand mix that makes you think "guy in a classic tuxedo" - to my nose, it's more playful sexy, like showering together after a silly nooner you're both still giggling about.

It’s a deep and introspective fragrance, but I'm getting from it notes of biscuits, coffee with cream, and maybe a hint of cardamom. I don’t know why!

Thus is very bright and and smells like a frat party but I kind of love it

Alright, there, I’m typing this as I dive into the fragrance abyss... let’s call it a live confession – LOL – So, here we go, no turning back. Sprayed it on the skin... well, it’s a challenge... like, why not, right? The crafting smells a bit antoinelie-esque, but – hold on – transitioning ain’t exactly smooth (supposed to be like that, maybe?). The star of the show might be the immortelle. Anything else? A hot mess of rotten this, rotten that, rotten everything: it’s like my nose stumbled into a flower graveyard (where someone emptied ashtrays full of cigarettes). Skin-scent alert: this ain’t shouting from the rooftops. Now, the lightbulb moment... I get it... the movie Enter the Void fits like a glove, for this fragrance is on some otherworldly trip. Feels kinda like a prototype (I know it’s not, but bear with me), like someone forgot to add or remove a thing or two. The green and flower mashup is wild, but it’s not mother nature’s hug, no, no... it’s more like a prelude to floral demise. Not gonna lie, not unpleasant, not a fragrance crime, nevertheless it feels a bit like it’s missing a few pages. Thank the perfume gods for the musk finale: that part is a legit original act. Good job overall, especially for the concept; it would have been great(er) if it was a scream instead of a whisper (it’s like this fragrance is afraid to be beautiful and original).