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#zoologist perfume
moratoirenoir · 6 months
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oncethrown · 6 months
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I have a writing exercise to recommend:
Wear and describe a Zoologist perfume.
It’s a niche perfume house in Canada that make scents that evoke an animal’s environment. Some are really accessible, some are really weird, but they are all complex and change as you wear them, and trying to describe the scent and the experience of wearing them has been my hyper fixation for a couple weeks and it’s really helping my descriptive writing.
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cleolinda · 1 year
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Tyrannosaurus Rex (Zoologist, 2018)
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(Zoologist Perfumes)
Zoologist Tyrannosaurus Rex is a gargantuan scent that sinks its teeth into the world of delicate fragrances and rips it wide open. Primitive woods and florals seize you and snatch you away to an ancient era. Smoky, charred wood warns of the danger of smouldering fire, setting your senses on edge, while droplets of metallic rose oxide offer a chilling premonition of blood-lust. The mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex is sometimes menacing, sometimes fascinating, but never, ever ordinary.
Perfumer: Antonio Gardoni Top Notes: Bergamot, Black Pepper, Fir, Laurel Leaf, Neroli, Nutmeg Heart Notes: Champaca, Geranium, Jasmine, Osmanthus, Rose, Ylang Ylang Base Notes: Resins, Cade, Cedar, Civet [synthetic], Frankincense, Leather [synthetic], Patchouli, Sandalwood, Vanilla
As is my wont, I read user reviews across various sites first. These reviews described Horrors. The word "barbecue" was used more than once. But once again, I look at this list of notes and I think, all of this sounds fine. Civet musk can be a little hard to handle; I haven't worn or smelled it much. But I actually like the scent of black pepper, that's fine. "Cade" seems to be smoky distilled juniper tar, and the Parfumo listing replaces the word cade with "Canary Islands juniper." Love a juniper, sounds good. Not sure what "resins" we're talking about, but I enjoy some incense, and "resins" are frequently in that ballpark. Let's give it a whirl.
For some reason, I opened the sample without gloves or even a tissue in my hand, which is what I usually do. I get perfume headaches, after all, and if I get one from just opening a vial, we're putting it back. So I wasn't really ready to wear it, but I was curious. Tyrannosaurus Rex got on my fingertips—
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(Troubled Birds)
—and there was nothing I could do about it.
T-Rex does not wash off. It doesn't. I went back to the notes to figure out why. And also, to figure out HOW it opens with a huge belch of slaughterhouse.
Like, I knew, I KNEW this was going to happen, I keep saying that I did my research and I knew what was going to happen when I put this or that fragrance on and then somehow I'm still left reeling when that's exactly what happens. The first thing—well, let's skip to the second thing right now. The Fragrantica note listing specifies "kyara incense" rather than "resins," and that's a precious Japanese incense that—ohhhh, it's oud. You have to follow this linguistic chain of kyara to aloeswood to agarwood to oud, but that's what it is.
Raw materials such as agarwood are becoming increasingly rare due to the depletion of the wild resource. [...] The highest regarded wood, ranjyatai, dates back to at least the 10th century and is kyara wood from Laos or Vietnam, and was used by emperors and warlords for its fragrance. It is said to contain so much resin that it can be used many times over. (Wikipedia: Incense in Japan)
If patchouli is the funk of kings, oud is the odor of emperors. It's not going to wash off, and perhaps more to the point, it would be an extravagant waste if you tried. Oud is valued in Indian perfumery, but it's particularly loved in Arabian fragrance—and I'm talking about both ancient traditions and modern industries here. It's been getting more popular in European and American fragrance for maybe the 10+ years or so, softened for the Western market as "the new patchouli." If I'd known that T-Rex was going to lead me here, I would have scoped out some oud fragrances and planned a whole deep-dive post; instead, we'll do that sometime in the future. For now, I'm aware that oud is—"polarizing," that's a good word:
Maybe you've had a whiff of some popular fragrances featuring oud, like Tom Ford Oud Wood, Byredo Our Immortel, or Maison Francis Kurkdjian Oud Satin Mood. They're distinctively different compositions that all share telltale qualities that oud offers. For one, they last a long time. Even after an oud fragrance dries down on the skin, you can still detect a trace of it radiating from one's body heat — musky, earthy, woody, and a bit smoky, like an incense. It's difficult to describe, but once you've smelled oud, you can most likely recognize it anywhere. On its own, it's quite polarizing, but when combined with a fragrance's note composition, it can add depth and complexity to any kind of scent. (Allure)
To be blunt about it: what this article dances around is the fact that a lot of people think that some ouds smell "sweaty" or even "fecal." I've personally seen this over and over in English-language user reviews at Fragrantica, Basenotes, that kind of all-encompassing database site. And I think there could be a cultural lack of appreciation at play there; it’s also true that some things just do not work with some people, biochemically, no matter how open-minded they are. I wanted to fistfight some European aldehydes. It happens. It’s also true that oud genuinely contains indole, a chemical that also makes some jasmine, ylang ylang, and gardenia flowers smell unpleasantly animalic or, yes, like shit. (Notice that jasmine and ylang are also in T-Rex.) I've never had a problem smelling white florals as unpleasant—and I’ve had jasmine and gardenia plants in my yard—just strong as fuck. I’ve also been lucky enough that the "urine" note in Mitsouko doesn't come out on me. Maybe, in trying T-Rex, the chemistry odds will actually be in my favor.
And I have to say, as a disclaimer: "kyara incense" isn't the official wording on the Zoologist website; I don’t know where this information came from. But after smelling the perfume—I'm not very experienced with oud, but I'm going to say, it tracks. Especially if your goal is to make a—let's say, "confrontational" fragrance.
But I don't think indolic notes are really the big news in T-Rex. The first thing I got was the rose: "Droplets of metallic rose oxide offer a chilling premonition of blood-lust." Bear in mind that rust is iron oxide; T-Rex gives off a very similarly rusty, blood-coppery note from that rose oxide, rather like raw beef. And I can tell it's truly the oxide note, because I can smell actual rose kind of trailing behind it.
My first thought was, who the fuck has ever used rose oxide in a perfume before? Well, it turns out that it doesn't smell like an rogue episode of Hannibal broke out when it's used in a rose accord or a fruit context:
Rose Oxide is the perfect aroma chemical for [a] vibrating, elegant and pulsating rose scent. It is used in many fragrances and [has a] highly impactful high cis quality, fresh, radiant and powerful. It is ideal for all kinds of compounds, used as an ingredient in cosmetics, personal care products, fragrances, cleaners, detergents, home care, perfumes etc. [...] It also adds to the flavor of select fruits like lychee and Gewürztraminer [a wine grape.] Rose oxide is a flavor rich component and can be seen in some essential oils like the Bulgarian rose oil and in roses. Rose oxide is one of the important fragrance materials in creating rosy notes for perfumes. (essentialoil.in)
(That link includes a lot of actual chemical notation, if you're interested in that. Note: "Cis" in this context refers to the spatial arrangement of atoms, "all on one side," not in an opposing "transverse" setup. Today I learned!)
Along that line, the supplier Pell Wall describes their rose oxide as "Floral-rose, green-geranium, bright-clean, metallic, wet. Diffusive and powerful." You'll notice that geranium is also in T-Rex; I would imagine, to boost the rose note, but also to underline the green notes of laurel and evergreen that create a dark, earthy wilderness under the raw meat aspect. I'm guessing that the juniper tar (an interesting nod to the tar pits people associate, however incorrectly, with dinosaur bones) adds some volcanic smoke, although it doesn't actually blend with the "meat" for me. Animalic civet and indole notes must be what give some flesh to the blood. And then of course, you also have the leathery skin of the dinosaur, combined with that (synthetic) civet musk. I'm not sure if the black pepper functions as the darkness of the forest, the wearer's sensation of encroaching threat, or, uh, seasoning.
So, on my skin, I’m getting both a dark dinosaur habitat sort of foundation, and then also “bloodlust” lurching through, with perhaps also the indolic effluvia associated with an abattoir, and I am using fancy words to dance around how gnarly this is. I do not like the slaughterhouse accord. Somehow, who could have guessed, I do not like it. I don't get much leather in the drydown, but in my experience, my skin just eats leather notes, I never get them. The "habitat" base is not very Me, but I actually do enjoy it a little? I already had essential oils of half the notes; I’m down with a lot of them in theory. It’s mostly the oud, the black pepper, and the juniper tar that lend such a menacing tone, I think. It's kind of stony and green, but a very dark and trampled green; it reassures me that I could try more oud and be okay, probably.
And of course, The Funk of Kings is in there—a patchouli that may be as harsh and peppery as the one I got at the beginning of Coco Mademoiselle. Between the stay-funkt patchouli and the immortal oud, I never had a chance of washing this off. (In fairness to me, I tried it twice and I did ride out the second wear.) If you're going to try this, buckle up and commit to it. Tyrannosaurus Rex is the Fuck Around and Find Out of perfume, and I'm not sure who actually wears it for the sake of wearing it. Maybe that suits an extinct animal, on some level: it's stored in your fragrance collection to be exhibited now and then, a marvel of creation, but not given life very often on the skin. You know what would happen if you did—you saw the end of Jurassic Park, and this perfume did too.
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Perfume discussion masterpost
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feytouched · 9 months
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scent of the day: snowy owl (zoologist)
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i'm new to zoologist scents, and i have three of them to sample, so i decided to start with the one that looked the most unusual. snowy owl promises to depict its namesake animal's habitat, and it seems to be somewhat divisive for its earthy, 'dirty' profile. i get that; it does smell like revolved soil on a cold day, just above freezing. there is a big blast of calone in the first wafts, though, and calone to me is the quintessential 90s mass-market watery-cucumber scent, which somewhat breaks my suspension of disbelief when it comes to this scent. nevertheless, the bitter greens and mint are doing a lot of heavy lifting to sell the ambiance, and in the end they pull it off.
as the top notes fade, a subtle creaminess comes in: the coconut rounds out the scent, without taking the spotlight for itself. it somehow does not steer this arctic composition even slightly towards tropical territory, but instead provides a counterpoint to the cold green opening. the animalic, hay-like base is evocative and not unpleasant, but it is faint on my skin. herbal, icy, earthy, soft - definitely an experiential scent and an artistic creation. i can picture a nest made of moss amid dirty snow and cold air. whether that's something i'd actually want to smell like, i'm not so sure.
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prince-liest · 3 months
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Me, writing deer!Alastor: Haha, the musk headcanons are a little weird! I mean, each to their own as always, but it's just not my bag! I sure wonder why people like it!
Meanwhile, fragheads on Reddit:
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odoroussavourssweet · 2 months
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Zoologist Squid
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Nose: Celine Barel
Notes: incense, amyl salicylate, pink pepper; ink, sea salt, opoponax; ambergris, benzoin, musk
Is it even possible to construct an aquatic or marine scent that is original (i.e. not Cool Water or Heeley Sel Marin) and, y'know, smells good?
Squid isn't a great perfume, but it's definitely original and doesn't smell bad.
It opens with a very bright, sparkling water-and-tropical-fruit effect, messes around in an unplaceable salty-smoky zone for a few minutes, and finally settles into a durable friendly amber, softly woody and almost cinnamon-spiced, with an aura of suntan lotion (that'll be the salicylate) and a lingering but not overpowering watery-synthetic vibe.
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!
Overall it feels rough and scratchy, in a way that most heavily synthetic scents do; but aquatic perfumes are Hard Mode and i have to give it points for existing at all and not being awful.
If you are on the lookout for the perfect ocean-vibes scent, Squid should be on the to-try list. (I loved the idea of smelling like the sea when I was a kid, but then when I learned about perfume I discovered how impossible it is. You may have to settle for smelling like salt-and-driftwood, or maybe a suntanned orange blossom. Or just accept that Cool Water is the OG and wear that.)
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scented--whispers · 5 months
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Zoologist Part 1: Chipmunk
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Picture a cozy haven high in the treetops, where a whimsical chipmunk dwells in a room adorned with dried leaves, an enchanting tableau of nature's embrace. Soft, cute, and as nutty as the critter's snoot, this fragrance unfolds like a heartwarming story. The little creature, nestled at a wooden table, indulges in fresh hazelnuts, sipping tea that gently warms the air and the surrounding wood.
Chipmunk is a creation of charm and allure, beckons with its lovely, cozy demeanor—a fragrance that delicately balances sweetness and zest, inviting you into its intriguing embrace. This scent, a symphony of notes, gracefully intertwines a fruity melody, a greenish wood accord that exudes likability, an abundance of nuts, and a hint of resin. A seamless harmony skillfully blended to perfection.
This fragrance is a masterpiece of nutty delight and never veers into excessive sweetness or overwhelming gourmand territory. Instead, it delicately balances the elements, creating a scent that is both comforting and subtly playful. An invitation to experience the charm of chipmunk coziness, this fragrance is a must-try, especially for those who appreciate the allure of nutty accords in their olfactory adventures.
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thethingything · 1 year
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we got more perfume samples and we're so unbelievably close to writing an unhinged Fragrantica review about one of them.
it's called The Ghost In The Shell by Etat Libre d'Orange, and I don't really know what we expected when we read the description but it's giving "guy on a beach caked in suncream and sweating profusely" kinda vibes. somehow it's not exactly unpleasant, but that's mostly because we're having such a hard time identifying what's going on with it that I don't trust it not to do what Moth by Zoologist did and suddenly become one of my favourites somehow.
that being said, we sprayed it less than half an hour ago so it might not smell like that after a while. who knows
edit: I figured out that it's really strongly reminding me of a kind of generic soapy smell. there's something slightly milky and a hint of fruit but it's not a sweet smell necesarily? a lot of the reviews seem to describe it as citrusy but I'm not getting that so it might just be that it smells weird on us?
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elfgarlic · 2 years
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i know tyrannosaurus rex is a very polarising scent, and i'm on the loving it side. it really does smell like its official description, a smouldering fire in a rich and somewhat swampy prehistoric landscape. frankly, i find it sexy. if a hot butch wore this i'd be all over them. it's strong, unique, and not suitable for every occasion, but great if you want to make a bold inpressiom
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ekwallace · 2 days
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It's getting warm here again and I'm newly re-obsessed with Zoologist's Bee. It smells sooooooo good in this almost tactile way. I just want to mush my face into it!
From the website:
Top Notes: Orange, Ginger Syrup, Royal Jelly Accord Heart Notes: Broom, Heliotrope, Mimosa, Orange Flower Base Notes: Benzoin, Labdanum, Musks, Sandalwood, Tonka, Vanilla
My skin chemistry does something terrible to aldehydes (Chanel No. 5 just turns into soap on me, sadly), but luckily it plays very nicely with gourmands and musky, gothy, weirdo scents, which are what I like best anyway. Bee is honey-sweet but also kinda dirty/earthy. I love it so much!
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javierfashionbazar · 28 days
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Si Quieres OLER a PLUMAS DULCES Este Es TU Perfume SNOWY OWL Zoologist
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moratoirenoir · 6 months
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cleolinda · 1 year
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Honey in perfume, feat. Bee (Zoologist, 2019)
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(Picture from the Zoologist website, obviously, and not my magical cottagecore abode)
I am a big fan of (wearing very small amounts of) sweet gourmand fragrances, including sugar and honey notes. “Notes,” of course—nowadays, it’s not the real thing. While I have seen at least one or two indie companies touting actual honey in their honey perfumes, for the most part, it's an aromachemical: phenylacetic acid, derived from beeswax and generally combined with other notes to create an accord. This Fragrantica article tells you everything you could ever want to know about the chemistry of honey perfumes, including:
"Honey absolute" is generally beeswax absolute (technically not even an absolute), which has "a relatively mild scent, reminiscent of hay and tonka beans with waxy and honey undertones."
"Phenylacetic acid itself, in high concentrations, has a sickeningly sweet smell, really reminiscent of honey, with sour, powdery and floral nuances. In its composition, the nuances of tobacco and chocolate are clearly distinguishable – one, without imagination, can also describe them as a strong animalistic urinal smell, vaguely reminiscent of civet."
If you saw barrels with a bee symbol in Breaking Bad: that's the stuff. It is, in fact, used to make meth.
Other notes/aromachemicals used in various honey bases (abridged): vanillin, heliotropin, coumarin (often tonka bean), violet (ionones), hyacinth (phenylacetaldehyde), rose and wax (geranyl acetate), and a note only found in citrus blossom honey: methyl anthranilate.
In the "mellis" base: "benzyl salicylate (balsamic, herbaceous) and eugenol (cloves), [...] patchouli, hydroxycitronellal (lily of the valley), woody notes, spices, and coumarin." This is a foundation used in many of the classic older fragrances like Youth Dew (which my grandmother used to wear), Opium, and L'Air du Temps.
If you're interested in the chemistry, take a look at the article—the parts I'm quoting are only to get across the palette of scent possible in a honey fragrance. Guerlain creative director Sylvaine Delacourte also reels off an exhaustive list of honey notes in perfumery. I'll quote four of them:
Miel de Provence (Firmenich base): "tobacco, aniseed, honey, curry, immortelle, coumarin, hay"
Beeswax Absolute: "quite buttery, very honey-like, broom-like"
Phenyl acetic acid: "honeyed, fruity, dirty, a little blackcurrant"
Tabac Turc Absolut: "honey, animal, leather"
Dance break for further reading:
Fragrantica: Beeswax in Perfumes
Perfume Society: "We love what the nose Christine Nagel has to say about this ingredient: 'Honey has two facets – half devil, half angel. In Ambrée structures, it has a sweet, comforting effect, taking you back to childhood. But a small touch in a feminine structure can be extremely sexy…'"
Bois de Jasmin: Sweet Honey Water: Perfume Recipe from the 17th Century
Also at Fragrantica: Best in Show: Honey Fragrances (2020). Now, if I had a money tree, I would probably go straight for samples of Back to Black (Kilian), Scandal (Jean Paul Gaultier), Poison (Dior), Chergui and Miel de Bois (Serge Lutens), L'Instant de Guerlain, and Honey and the Moon (TokyoMilk). The sample I actually ordered was what I felt must be The Honey Scent of All Time:
Bee (Zoologist, 2019)
I had actually never tried a Zoologist fragrance before this; they're famous for animal-themed scents that range from the imaginative to the, uh, challenging. (And the infamous.) Here's the official description:
Like the frantic hustle of the bee through a maze of multi-faceted scents, Zoologist Bee delivers a surreal experience. The rich aroma of honey captivates, while alluring florals, royal jelly, animalic beeswax and regal incense unite to create a buzz, offering excitement, and the sweet rewards of life.
Perfumer: Cristiano Canali Top Notes: Orange, Ginger Syrup, Royal Jelly Accord Heart Notes: Broom, Heliotrope, Mimosa, Orange Flower Base Notes: Benzoin, Labdanum, Musks [synthetic], Sandalwood, Tonka, Vanilla
Now, glance back up at all the background business we just went through: heliotropin, coumarin (tonka), citrus that could include methyl anthranilate. Sylvaine Delacourte invokes mimosa and broom in her full list of notes—
But then: royal jelly apparently has a cheesy, condensed milk scent; she also mentions that beeswax absolute can read as "buttery." For that matter, her mention of a "butyric" honey aromachemical is a bit alarming: it's the "rancid butter, parmesan cheese, and vomit" note that makes Hershey's chocolate so objectionable to people who didn't grow up with it. Like, it's all here if you google know what you're looking at. It's all fun and games until the bee cheese comes out.
And then, labdanum, as you might remember, is the key ingredient in amber accords, where it's often blended with benzoin and vanilla, so we're going to get a warm, resinous, highly projective effect as well. I love amber, but I have to apply it exceptionally sparingly: it's LOUD.
What I'm getting at is, once you look more closely at the notes and the chemistry: I am not surprised that some wearers report a claustrophobic feeling like their head is stuck in a beehive. If your skin chemistry emphasizes the floral notes, it's said that you'll feel like you're right there soaring with the bees among the wildflowers; if you amp the cheesy, waxy, or A M B E R notes, well. There's nothing I can do to save you now. Remember Tabac Turc Absolut ("honey, animal, leather") up there? Or that phenylacetic resemblance to civet? Zoologist is famous for (surprise!) their intensely animalic fragrances. We don’t know exactly what Cristiano Canali used, but we sure do know what’s possible. You are IN that hive with the bees. Hope you brought some pollen as a hostess gift.
I always apply, like, three entire molecules of perfume when I first try something, so I was fine. On me, Bee has a creamy-yet-powdery "texture"—not dairy, not "old lady" powder; something almost tactile. The honey itself is primarily what I smell, and it’s "high" in my nose; I think I would have preferred a deeper note, like the dark clover honey I use in my tea, but it's nice. I don't specifically smell any ginger or florals—maybe a little citrus. Nothing cheesy or objectionable, barely waxy, just a general sense of hive. But Bee does seem—alive. It seems to move in the air around my wrist.
And it persists for hours, despite how little I wore (three different occasions), especially since my skin does amplify amber notes. If you find yourself in trouble, it is not going to wash off. DO NOT SPRAY BEE ALL OVER YOURSELF. DO NOT. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR CHOICES. I really enjoy honey fragrances and this one in particular, but—you have been warned.
Addendum: It was extra fun to edit this out on the deck under a cherry laurel with about 7-8 bumblebees circling overhead. They were chill.
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Zoologist Moth
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Zoologist Moth
Nose: Tomoo Inaba
notes: notes: saffron, clove, black pepper, cumin, cinnamon, nutmeg, lemon; heliotrope, mimosa, iris, rose, jasmine, lily of the valley; honey, smoke, oud, resins, musk, guaiac, ambergris, cypriol, patchouli, vetiver
Moth comes at you fast.
it goes on alarmingly honey-sweet, but it’s quickly dampened by a pleasant smoky-woody dry note.
A tender, fluffy, pale-yellow mimosa floral aura keeps peeking out around the edges and gradually comes to the forefront; now Moth is a mimosa scent backstopped by potent honey and smoky dusty woods.
Then the florals fade and we’re back to honey and dry smoky woods, yellow and black. It’s an intense combination, but I find it balanced and not quite as overwhelming as it sounds; it’s a bit powdery, which softens the effect.
Moth isn’t the rugged desert fantasy that would be, say, Andy Tauer’s take on honey and charred woods; it’s a softer, more antique-attic vibe.
And then —in less than two hours — it changes again! now it’s a comforting cloak of spices and dusty, powdery woods, in shades of muted brown. This phase is my favorite, and the most truly moth-like. It’s a subdued personal aura of soft dry warmth, like a brown cashmere wrap dress.
Moth’s drydown is not too far from the powdery-cinnamon-incense drydown of Fate Woman after their respective opening fireworks have subsided.
Definitely a grown woman’s scent; the “powdery” smell of heliotrope tends to code as feminine, and when you combine powdery softness with warm dark spices and woods the effect is rather maternal…but also plausibly seductive in a Mrs. Robinson kind of way. A MILFy moth.
Moth is an impressive achievement — a high-concept creative idea (inspired by a moth drawn to a candle flame) that also pulls together into something that simply smells good.
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scented--whispers · 5 months
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Zoologist Part 3: Bee
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Embarking on the fragrant voyage of this elixir was akin to stepping into an artist's canvas, a masterpiece meticulously painted with strokes of olfactory brilliance. The opening act, an instant immersion into the photorealistic world of honey and beeswax, resonated with a spellbinding enchantment. A jar of honey materialized with each spritz, rendering the experience akin to a bewitching act of alchemy rather than a mere perfume application.
As the aromatic tale unfolded, an hour on the skin ushered in the emergence of subtle bitterness, reminiscent of propolis, offering a soothing illusion—perhaps a placebo, yet comforting. Concurrently, beeswax asserted its presence, not as an extract but as an intrinsic part of the composition, amplifying the fragrance's already potent allure. The evolving symphony continued to captivate, weaving an intricate narrative of balsamic notes, delicate florals, and the subtle dance of resins and incense.
Around the fifth and sixth hours, the fragrance gracefully descended upon a soft base of sandalwood, vanilla, and tonka beans. A lingering ode to the preceding olfactory journey, the beeswax remained steadfast—a testament to the enduring artistry behind the perfume.
The unyielding intensity of the honey is too much for my personal taste. Despite this, the profound appreciation for the next-level artistry invested in this fragrance prevails. Each whiff encapsulates the dedication and mastery of the perfumer, creating an immersive experience that transcends the boundaries of conventional perfumery. It is an adventure adventure, even though not tailored to my individual preferences, is an homage to the creative genius behind the bottle—a work of art in its own right.
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pocketvenuslux · 1 year
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Zoologist is a Canadian house that has always intrigued me but I never came across a fragrance that I wanted to wear repeatedly except maybe the discontinued Bat. But recently, I’ve been returning to the strangely comforting, vegetative Sloth by self-taught nose, Prin Lomros.
Far from your typical sharp and crystalline greens, Sloth is both cool and warm. Violent leaf gives Sloth its green and damp aquatic chill while oakmoss deepens and shades in the base. However, its combination of spices, especially cumin mingling with flaxen camomile and hay notes, pushes the scent’s darkness into a textured, loamy territory that evokes the kind of warmth that comes from decomposing organic plant material. This makes for a compelling contrast where the touches of cool greens end up having a calming quality rather than a more aggressive or angular verdancy. As the scent dries down, the textured feel softens with a gentle sweetness, lush florals and vanilla. Overall, it’s an incredibly grounding fragrance.
Like other more conceptual Zoologists, I can’t imagine wearing Sloth out or what kind of outfit I would pair this with. As I write this post, I’m wearing a deep orange-red terracotta bodysuit with slouchy leg warmers and plan to spend some time reading indoors wrapped in a blanket, drinking tea and eating dark chocolate as the Canadian winter rages on outside. And right now, I can’t think of a better fragrance to wear with this than Sloth.
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