Sova

Sova? SO GOOD. This is ... just extraordinary. Just some phenomenal beast from a different dimension where smell is the primary sense and 'marketing' isn't even a thing. It might as well be sold in tiny jewelled apothecaries' vials and labelled "Essence of Pure Niche". Sova is something other. Be prepared to go deep into the territory of weird - with uncompromisingly outdoorsy, botanical, oddball tangs of strange burning bushes and leaves and roots and buds you've never smelled before, and certainly not together. Be prepared to thrill to the usual shirt-bustingly robust Slumberhouse sillage and solid presence. Be prepared to be charmed by its mellow sweetness, and slightly disturbed by the dark, sticky bottom end, which reeks of molasses and treacle and burnt grasslands all at once. Be prepared to be disconcerted that at times it morphs into a bizarre alt-gourmand seemingly built of toasted coconut and maple syryp. Then let your mind boggle freely as it shape-shifts into the performance-art immolation of a raisin drunk on cognac which hurled itself into a blazing redwood fire to sizzle away to a caramelised crisp. Utterly strange, completely compelling. It's the stuff of my dreams and it's a privilege to own it. That doesn't mean it's right for everyone - and it's so violently individual that if you don't warm to it, you are probably going to hate it strongly. It won't leave anyone without an opinion - probably a pretty intense one. And for me that's yet another reason to love it. This is what art perfumery is FOR. The banal details : pricy, stupidly difficult to buy retail, rarely let go of by aficionados so equally hard to find secondhand. Though throwing like a lumberjack at first, its sillage bubble does shrink hard after the first hour on me, BUT, remains so robust at closer quarters that this isn't a problem. Up to 6-10h on skin depending on conditions, though its ghost will cling up to 24h and beyond. For me, it's a little too plum-pudding-rich and dense to be enjoyable (or even thinkable) on hot hot days, but on cold ones, this will warm you all over better than a nip of rum from a hipflask or the cosiest bear-trapper's hat. Lasts literally weeks on fabrics (not joking) - to me this is a bonus but it definitely won't be a win if you are - somehow - unconvinced whether you like it or not. Alternatives: well, there is none. BUT, for something oddly similar though gentler and airier, Hendley Mown canters around the edges of Sova's imaginary harvest-grassland-autumn acres. Sova's got a fair bit of shared DNA with its Slumberhouse siblings Jeke and Kiste, but is (to me) way odder than either. Not for beginners. For connoisseurs. The sort of scent which makes me wish I knew more botanical and aromachemical science, to be able to understand its amazingness better and say cleverer things about it. So forgive me but there's only one thing I can add: Sova is FRICKIN' AWESOME.

I only obtained a bottle due to the limited re-release this August via Fumerie Parfumerie of Portland, OR, and I was fortunate to nab a bottle, breaking my general rule of not blind buying, especially fragrances on the more expensive side. Sova's reputation, having been discontinued for a couple years, however, was the stuff of lore, and so I felt justified in going for it, and I'm not disappointed that I did. Like the other Slumberhouse fragrances I own (Jeke, Ore, Norne), Sova is powerful and provocative, but it's a bit more daring, spicy, and even borderline animalic. And like the others, while there is a woody commonality (woody dominance in the case of Norne, in fact), and a semblance of sweetness in Ore and Jeke, both qualities are present in Sova but are overwhelmed by the spicy, animalic mixture of hay, castoreum, and broom, giving it a sharper edge than the other fragrances in the lot. Still, Sova is anchored by tonka and vanilla, both of which keep it from flying off the rails as a wild spicy and dirty potion. Sova pushes the envelope from what I already considered bold, daring scents in Slumberhouse, but I'm pleased that it's still a sophisticated enough blend that I'd feel comfortable wearing it in a few situations. Yet at the same time, it's a bit too daring and edgy for a first impression or early date, but a little loud to wear privately, so it's hard to select an ideal occasion for wearing it, but no matter: I'll find the time to wear it, albeit sparingly. It almost doesn't need mentioning, but Sova has the same superlative performance like its fellow Slumberhouse dark juice brethren, on the extreme high end in terms of both projection and longevity, a testament to the juice's value at $160 for 30ml. If you come across this, do check it out! A staple of the line and one I'm glad to have added to my collection. 8 out of 10

At last--a foray into Slumberhouse. I have spent a few days wearing this perfume. Longevity is easily +12 hours. Each time it leaves me with many interesting impressions. I respect it as high-quality artwork. Sova is extremely gourmand, and yet it is not. The notes are polarizing, and at times they blend together to create accords that I did not expect based on the pyramid. I thought this would be an herbal green perfume, but it is far from it. The first time I sampled, it smelled like the darkest chocolate. Just days earlier, I had the pleasure of eating a roasted cocoa bean for the first time. Its taste was like my initial impression of Sova--somewhat sour, a little bitter, and nutty. I was intrigued. There was a lovely dark and smoky incense note along with strong dried coconut and ebony wood. Whew! That is a lot of impressions! Upon my second sampling, my impressions of the top notes were entirely different. I smelled intense gingerbread--not the mass produced hard sheets that people build gingerbread houses with, but the soft, moist cake made with freshly grated ginger and spices. Then there is this persistent dark, bitter note that is quite enjoyable actually. During all wearings the heart smelled like pure ambery maple syrup, which reminded me so much of the wonderful Tabac Aurea by Sonoma Scent Studio; but on the whole, Sova is far more complex. I also perceive a tobacco accord in the base. At some point, way down into the drydown it becomes a bold and very dark Italian roast coffee with a touch of sugar and cream. This is one perfume that takes time to get to know well. This is a longer review than I like to write, but there was so much to say! I love Sova's complexity and would definitely recommend trying it out to see how it unfolds. I am intrigued by Slumberhouse.

This is a review of the 2014 release, in the new 30ml bottles, where I believe Sova has been tweaked a little since its earlier incarnations. Sova opens with a green-sweet, almost tarry blast. Herbacious, balsamic, spicy and deep. This wears a lot lighter than many Slumberhouse offerings. The first half of the experience brings to mind rum soaked christmas cakes of Northern European origin. The mix of bitter hops, sweetly waxy beeswax and dry hay add up to something surprisingly similar to an expensive, rich gingerbread. The animalic notes combined with the creamy tonka only further amplify the gourmand notes on my skin. The latter half of the drydown stretches on for damned near eternity. The frag itsself is rather linear, and hums away as a dusty skin-scent for literally days if you don't wash it off. Longevity is phenominal, sillage however, leaves something to be desired. At this kind of price point, I want the whole damned room to know I'm wearing something. Unfortunately, after the first 20 minutes or so even I have trouble smelling it, except for an occaisional craving for gingerbread I can't smell much of anything without inhaling my wrist. It's a shame, the poor sillage, (for its price point at least), is the only thing bringing down an otherwise beautifully crafted and astonishingly complex perfume. Completely unisex, if you can warrant the high price, low volume and sub-par sillage then this truly is a beautiful creation.

This is just so strange. I've tried to review this for some time but I can't make up my mind about it. It's unlike any fragrance i've ever smelled. Opens up thick, smokey and boozy (what a shock coming from slumberhouse!). This is paired with a bizarre, slightly tangy fruitiness that I'm lead to believe is the hops but it certainly does not smell like any IPA's i've had. When I focus I can make out a little bit of dirty sweetness that is almost definitely tonka. But there is something subtle in the opening, lurking underneath the cacophony of strangeness. A salty, savory, somewhat acidic bile that reminds me of vinegar. This all combines in a manner that reminds me quite a bit of barbeque sauce. To be frank, I am left scratching my head at the opening. But things start to 'click' as it dries down. I start to get the thick and entirely unsweetened beeswax note. The hops lose their "fruity twang" and smoothes out into a raspy, pleasantly bitter grassiness. This all still has the tonka sweetness that I enjoy and hours after the fact I find myself appreciating this. If only I could past that tangy sweet baby ray's opening. All in all this gets a like from me, definitely unique and undoubtedly daring but also somewhat off putting. Longevity and sillage are comically over the top (once again, no surprise coming from slumberhouse).