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Heart Notes 
Base Notes 
06/11/2021
Floyd
290 Reviews
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Floyd
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47
The window to the night
For hours now, summer has been piling up through the canyons of the city. Now the bricks give the embers into the night. No wind blows through the open window, from a lamp still glows faintly some laurel, there is still taste of pungent ginger, it wanders with the lights in the sky in the room. Life out there rushes like the sea.
It must be made of cola. Its spray drifts silently through the room, with the remains of the bottles in the yard, the rum and smoke still there, through which the old sofa passes, gone with the leather that remained to him. Then the joints in the cobblestones are steaming, there the rum with the cola remains seeps between tobacco fibers and peach shreds into the warm weals of earth.
You lie against the ceiling of your old house chamber, flickering with smoky colors like amber, a warm cloth of summer scent flowing through your open window to the night.
**
Anne-Sophie Behagel created Black Tar and Type Writer, two fragrances that are, in my opinion, masterpieces of the use of interstices in dense matter. In Black Tar, nature grows seemingly light-footed through tar; in Type Writer, green woods shimmer through soot and leather.
"Tabage Nocturne" takes a similar tack, except that here nothing seems to float, there is considerably less lightness. The matter is a densely woven cloth, in which at the beginning for a few moments the fresh components (litsea, lime and ginger) flare up, before the dominant cola in the heart flows together with white rum, peachy fruity osmanthus, a touch of light tobacco and minimal leathery-earthy oud to leave at the end a smoky-leathery ambered overall picture. The fragrance from the yard flows moderately to quietly for a good seven hours through the window to the night.
(With thanks to Dufter man)
It must be made of cola. Its spray drifts silently through the room, with the remains of the bottles in the yard, the rum and smoke still there, through which the old sofa passes, gone with the leather that remained to him. Then the joints in the cobblestones are steaming, there the rum with the cola remains seeps between tobacco fibers and peach shreds into the warm weals of earth.
You lie against the ceiling of your old house chamber, flickering with smoky colors like amber, a warm cloth of summer scent flowing through your open window to the night.
**
Anne-Sophie Behagel created Black Tar and Type Writer, two fragrances that are, in my opinion, masterpieces of the use of interstices in dense matter. In Black Tar, nature grows seemingly light-footed through tar; in Type Writer, green woods shimmer through soot and leather.
"Tabage Nocturne" takes a similar tack, except that here nothing seems to float, there is considerably less lightness. The matter is a densely woven cloth, in which at the beginning for a few moments the fresh components (litsea, lime and ginger) flare up, before the dominant cola in the heart flows together with white rum, peachy fruity osmanthus, a touch of light tobacco and minimal leathery-earthy oud to leave at the end a smoky-leathery ambered overall picture. The fragrance from the yard flows moderately to quietly for a good seven hours through the window to the night.
(With thanks to Dufter man)
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