Dead Air

When I was five years old, I would wait at the window for my friend Matt to cross my street to come over to play. I would stare out to my front yard, my teeth gnawing ever so slightly at the sill, leaving tiny indentations. I remember the taste of the paint and dust—not to worry, no lead poisoning here, even though it was the 80s. I recall thinking how brave it was that Matt would cross the street all by himself. My parents never discovered those indentations on that yellow window sill. Dead Air somehow brought up this memory. It suggests this beautiful stagnancy, the smell of an abandoned apparatus of time: a little sweet, a little saline, muzzy and not clearly defined, in a corner, undisturbed. I immediately recognized davana oil in its opening, one of my favorite materials. It smells of dried fruit fermented into liqueur: currants, elderberries, prunes. Then the herbaceous, woody camphor, which is in the bloodline of the artemisia family plants to which Davana belongs, starts to surface. In Dead Air, it blurs into the licorice-fennel-celeriac scent of lovage root. Then there is oakwood absolute, giving the impression of an old wooden barrel that once stored whiskey. Fresh or stale? It doesn't matter, I like it. Whatever that is floral here is not strongly outlined enough to be immediately recognizable, and it lends to the satisfying obscurity of Dear Air. There is nothing to really hold onto, and I find it perfectly acceptable, the elements drifting in a haze, sort of like when you notice floaters in your vision when looking up to a clear blue sky. I am then reminded of these ivy--patterned drapes that were in my living room (we called it the "parlor" here in Massachusetts), hiding in them, imagining I was hiding in a maze of vines. Or the smell of these peculiar plastic fake flowers that my mother owned—the petals so rigid, so unlike the real ones. Also, the way the old Zenith TV set we owned smelled as I would get close to the screen and examine its static. I still remember the way each knob felt, depending on whether I was turning the VHF or UHF channels. Obviously that's from the opoponax resin (just kidding). Remember, kids: Natural fragrant materials may give the perception of synthetic smells. Synthetic fragrant materials may give the perception of natural smells.

So first thing first. This is very unique. It's perfect during overcast or when it is raining. It doesn't entirely smell like the atmosphere outside at the time, but they encapsulated a very specific smell that I adore. Right before it rains, the air outside slightly changes. It's not petrichor! There is no element of that. And it's also not wet cement. It's very gentle and atmospheric. It's like the smell of the air itself has become slightly damp. I love that smell and that is in here. Done very well! But there's much more than that going on. The other elements of this fragrance I'm having a hard time placing. Dead Air is a perfect name for this composition. It almost has characteristic antique store ambience, or even a very modern liminal space. Such polar opposites and yet it has the ability to be both. I don't think this is a polarizing fragrance in itself, but I do think it may not be appreciated by people who are not artistic minded. This isn't a fragrance that, upon initial spray, excites you. It's not sweet, it's not fresh, and it's not spicy. If anything, I would call it eerie in the best way possible. Dusty, eerie and atmospheric exemplify this composition, and I actually quite love it. I find myself more in the mood for fragrances like this lately, especially during fall and winter when I am isolated or by myself in my house. Perhaps in a somber, nostalgic or melancholic spirit. To be completely honest, this is one of my personal favorite frames of mind. And I am starting to collect fragrances that amplify this instead of taking me out of it. That's one of the biggest mistakes I think people make. In my opinion, using a fragrance to try to make you happy when you are sad is the wrong way to do it. If you are sad, be sad. Amplify your sadness and really feel it. Process it. I believe if you do that, get through it the right way, it doesn't come back as often. And wearing a fragrance like Dead Air enhances those emotions. It's really quite beautiful and not many people seem to be talking about it. In my opinion, this is a hidden gem for the artistic people, like me, whom enjoy their melancholy.

If you were to dig up a bunch of roots without cleaning the dirt off and caramelize them in a cast iron skillet, throw in a large handful of salt, some crushed up green leaves, a few white flower petals, and the zest of a lemon rind, I imagine this is what you’d get. Smells like a delightful salted witch’s brew. If the scent had a texture, it would feel like sticky tree resin. I wear Dead Air very frequently. It is so addictive and versatile! I haven’t smelled anything quite like it before. This fragrance doesn't smell earthy -- it more so smells like something *of* the earth. Hard to explain. You’ve got to smell this one for yourself. The scent is linear and doesn’t transform at all over time, which is fine by me. There is a delicate balance between salty, green, and resinous notes that results in something I view as a masterpiece. 10/10. EDIT: wore this while swimming and it lasted even after getting wet n sweaty. It has also become one of my most complimented perfumes

Some reflection and mental digestion had to occur with this one to truly give my thoughts, although just to be totally incongruent (why break the habit of a lifetime Houdini?) they were kinda initially apparent in some sense as well, I knew that I liked this fragrance despite the most prominent theme in Dead air being something I'd usually say isn't my bag. As for this as an overarching genre, crudely 'greenish, modern, hipster shit' I'd say I do like that, but this had a metholated camphor which could be construded as cheap and annoying and edgy for the sake of it, but in this context I just got that sensation of really, really, good frankincense (or other similar resin) which usually has these very sharp, nose tingling, camphor to it. Dead air is complex to me, had it just been one dimensional I'd have tapped out and chalked it up to yet another fancy, trendy, artistically packaged brand, stocked at Bloom London or whatever? I liked the green opening, the woody aspect, the scratch of vetiver and faint suggestion of smoke (looking at the notes from cypriol perhaps) and the sea. However, what I most like about this perfume is that for such a highly artistic work (even including stuff I'd shy away from), I found it very much a perfume. A wearlable, likable, collection of familiar beats but with a individuality and strong underpinning, not just a collision of edgy smells. Also looking here at the notes I find perfumer Mark Buxton which in hindsight doesn't surprise me at all, in fact it makes total sense. Check this out, I liked it way more than I thought I would.

The first time I tried this, I thought this smelled like a mix of sweat, airconditioning air and men's cologne. It somewhat still smells like that to me. However, after having worn it properly the violet note is quite distinct to me in the opening, which lasts at least 3 hours. An airy, pollen-heavy violet. It reminds me a bit of Dirty Violet by Heretic (which I like) but somehow even dirtier. Weirder. Better longevity and stronger projection. The dry down is less sweaty and a little sweeter as well. Someone standing about 2 people behind me noticed the fragrance of Dead Air and asked who smelled nice. I didn't say it was "dead air", and instead tried to attribute it to spring time air haha. She replied, "no, it smells like perfume". On that note, while it has some fragrance notes rooted in nature, there is still something that's still a bit uncannily industrial/synthetic about it. Maybe that's also why it reminds me of stale airconditioning air. I only have a small sample of this and if I continue to grow in like of it, I may commit to the 10ml travel size. A little goes a long way with this one.

This is a surprisingly pleasant scent given the name and the fact that people associate it with the Backrooms. I smell salty air, dry wood, and a sprinkle of something sweet — like a small pinch of caramel. If I were going into this scent blindly with no prior knowledge of its name or the conversation surrounding it, there's no way that I would personally associate this scent with anything spooky or unsettling. Rather than the Backrooms (or any interior rooms, for that matter), I am moreso reminded of the days when I lived near the beach. This fragrance evokes the following imagery for me: It's a cool spring night and you're walking through the brush towards the beach. In your hand, you are holding a warm sweet treat, and the salty breeze is wafting its scent towards your nose.

almost more of a concept fragrance. it genuinely smells like wet stone, drapery fabric, damp leaves, and dust on a hot lightbulb. opens with a razor-sharp ozonic zap of rain and TV static, then the romantic sweetness of damp earth and autumn leaves early in their putrefaction comes in. underneath that is the minerality of wet stone. this will either transport you to a damp autumn neighborhood walk, an old theatre basement filled with forgotten rose bouquets, or a cemetery mausoleum after rain, depending on how goth you are. i wore this on halloween to get me in the zone as a crypt-dwelling ancient vampire, and it worked. despite this, it has a freshness + familiarity that makes it oddly wearable. out of all the colors, this is definitely a "silvery" fragrance.

this is supposed to smell a bit oceany, to quote "a salty breeze by the sea at night," but I honestly got none of that. no soil or anything, breaks my heart to say. it smells like radio static and electrical kind of heat akin to server room that's been on all day, bit of a metallic twist to it, with undercurrent of a sort of typical dudebro 3-in-1 shampoo type of smell from the wood/amber notes. sharp and clean, decent wear. not going to lie, if it weren't for the generic dudebro undertones to it, I would put this in the love category but I have an extreme hatred for the 3-in-1 smell

If I was a backrooms basement creature I would smell like this. A damp colorless basement full of old decrepit furniture and rotten wood. Dust motes swirling in the air. Untouched for 50 years. Air I shouldn't be breathing. I love how it evokes such a clear picture. This fragrance is interesting artistically but not wearable for me. I really want to love it. I come back ever so often just to see the picture again.

I got a sample of this after seeing it being called a “backrooms smell”. Definitely agree. The opening on my skin was a super harsh almost screechy but not repulsive. The lovage root was strong with my skin chemically. As the day went on though it definitely started to get into that hot musty backrooms smell. I won’t be getting a full bottle but I’ll definitely be keeping this sample.

Did a test spray on my arm and sniffed it maybe 30 times with the intention of: “is this bad?. Is this bad?”, but it then dawned on me that if it were bad, I wouldn’t have sniffed it that many times! TL;DR: Good, not bad!

Smells just how you would imagine from its name. It's strange and experimental but extremely wearable; I got lots of compliments. Aromatic, fresh, and creepy. Somehow smells both earthy and industrial at the same time.

Feels masculine to me, initially salty & resinous but then dries down on me to something a little more delicate & floral, but still has a saltiness to it.

probably what the spores in the last of us smelt like.

smells like the disney world polynesian resort

A fragrance of low, resinous tones, this opens green, balsamic, almost like the first inhale of a dry, herb-laced dish, savory yet elusive. It’s not quite gourmand, but there’s that fleeting moment of tasty intrigue, like the whisper of crushed herbs warming in oil, a hint of something spiced yet restrained. Drying on skin, the scent unravels a deeper, earthier, a plunge into bitter roots and bruised leaves. The opoponax, most prominently, rises, warm and honeyed but shadowed by its own darkness, with an ambered depth that isn’t quite sweet, a resin that clings rather than melts. A touch of bitterness hums beneath, a medicinal thread winding through the composition, making the dried sweetness that follows feel almost ghostly—rooty, dense, lingering like damp soil after rain. It’s textured, evocative, immersive. I respect it, but I don’t necessarily want to wear it. Definitely a very realistically earthy, herbal scent, too much like a whisper from the ground itself. If you who love resins in their raw, unpolished form, if you crave the balance of sweetness and shadow, though, this may strike you as something like a quiet masterpiece.

Second by second my opinion on this scent changes. My first experience with it, I only tried it on the blotter and it read faded and dusty, like an old suit from a wooden trunk in house you inherited from a distant relative. Now that I've had time to try it on the skin a few times, I'll say that still stands, but it's sweeter and lightly (pleasantly) floral; The suit from the box was hung out on the clothes line to air out. It's woody and green enough to be wearable (a damp forest kind of green), and the dates actually come though after some wear. But that moth-eaten-clothes smell still comes off periodically in waves, and for that reason, it's not for me.

Reminds me of an old empty office building that hasn't been touched in 10 years until someone bought it and started renovating it. It smells like the first day of renovation, when you turn the lights on for a decent amount of time for the first time and the accumulated dust on the lights starts to heat up, while cans of freshly mixed paint sit in a far corner. Definitely an odd fragrance but not horrible at all. Just not for me

The scent is quite dark and somewhat complex, the most prominent ingredient in this perfume is the scent of patchouli and a bit of salty salt, it's personality and unique and not for the masses. It feels like you're walking on the beach at night after a heavy rain, a bit of rotten wood and a bit of dampness coming from patchouli. Fragrance rating 7/10

For an extrait de parfum, I expected this to be a lot stronger although when it comes to actually making a perfume, not all ingredients for notes project as well so that possibly could be why. This is definitely a woody fragrance but there's a green element in here aswell which gives it that cherry on top (there is no cherry scent in here, by the way)