Sleeping

At first upon the skin, there rises a lavish tide of nitro musk and orange blossom, entangled with the resinous shadow of oakmoss, the green bitterness of galbanum, the wild herbaceousness of vetiver, and the sharp little cruelty of clove. Yet, as all violent passions must, the spice and earth slowly recede, unveiling something exquisitely cool, fresh and unsweetened: the pallid breath of magnolia mingling with carnation and the faintly decadent sigh of rose jasmine. The citrus vanishes altogether (because of age), like a forgotten flirtation at dawn. It calls to mind a grande dame after an elaborate toilette, her silver hair brushed a hundred times before sleep. With age, the nitro musk acquires not merely greater penetration, but a curious dusty texture of ancient soil, as though the perfume itself had been preserved beneath the velvet darkness of time. Over the whole composition there lies the soft monochrome veil of an old black-and-white motion picture. The fragrance bears unmistakably the signature of Jean Carles: dense, sumptuous, and unapologetically baroque. Yet it remains astonishingly refined, perfectly worthy of its name, Sleeping. It possesses a narcotic quality unlike that of any other perfume. A creation gravely underestimated merely because its bottle is too dazzlingly beautiful, it is a perfume deserving endless contemplation, and perhaps even devotion.

found myself here because of this incred bottle + packaging, but looking at the notes, i feel like this one would still go hard today...