Funky Machine

Fascinating. Pepper and tar that mellows down to a sweet, earthy, herbal, chemical, resinous fragrance. Is it floor varnish? Shoe polish? Some kind of rare, treasured plant? Violin rosin, gasoline, cordite, creosote? No, of course, at the end of the day, all that is left is fog machine glycol, it becomes obvious. Wait, was that basil? I don't know, it's gone. It's as if it contains both a fragrance masking a chemical in an industrial cleaning product, and the underlying chemical scent as well. It is robotic, but in a very unstraightforward way, like an aromatic wooden automaton workshop -- not metallic or oily, not plastic or silicon, but dark and musky. I bought it for the tomato note and I don't particularly get that, which is fine. It's something else entirely.

The attack is pyrogenized. It feels like rubbing a piece of pitch-black charcoal on the skin. However, this charcoal is very pleasant, spicy-hot, and salty. I was very intrigued by this one, aromatic, dark, and deep, almost unfathomable. The mental image of this perfume was the idea of a bouquet garni locked in a wooden box filled with precious spices, licked by the flames of the fireplace because it was left too close to the fire. A slight animalic touch develops and the charred sensation diminishes, ending with a veil similar to a fine layer of ash on the skin.