No. 23 fragrance notes
- Smoke, anise, black pepper, tobacco, Sitka spruce
Latest Reviews of No. 23
I wander through the mist of a darkening harbor, listening to the soft urgency of the gray sea, admiring the warm glowing the emanates from windows on cottages. The smell of cold smoke, smoldering herbs, mingling with brine of ocean water and the detritus along the docks, makes me think of the animistic representation of nature, where all elements embody a spirit, minerals shine with their own souls, and the atmosphere is as alive as anything with a heartbeat. There is a darkness that is profound—it at first may feel bleak, but its starkness is an outer layer that, once penetrated, gives the fruit of truth. Sometimes when we are alone, all is quiet, and there is little that can barge into our peace, the answers present themselves.
No. 23 evokes many things that have brought me joy: salted licorice (the kind with ammonium chloride); spruce tips tea; balsam fir incense cones; squishing vermillion red yew berries; the aroma of freshly laid tar asphalt; allowing just a little of the biting cold inside through a cracked window, to smell and taste it; rain water meeting dry ash. It is a retreat for my mind, escorting me to my imagination, allowing me to consider a place entirely tailored for me, every corner, every sound, and every smell. This harbor, a refuge by a warm fire, allowing me to let go of all my ego's concerns. A restful time to put thoughts into words, take uninterrupted naps, listen to the sea, and let go of any pressure to feel purposeful. What a conduit for letting go. Ahh, the grit of it all, and how magical it smells.
No. 23 evokes many things that have brought me joy: salted licorice (the kind with ammonium chloride); spruce tips tea; balsam fir incense cones; squishing vermillion red yew berries; the aroma of freshly laid tar asphalt; allowing just a little of the biting cold inside through a cracked window, to smell and taste it; rain water meeting dry ash. It is a retreat for my mind, escorting me to my imagination, allowing me to consider a place entirely tailored for me, every corner, every sound, and every smell. This harbor, a refuge by a warm fire, allowing me to let go of all my ego's concerns. A restful time to put thoughts into words, take uninterrupted naps, listen to the sea, and let go of any pressure to feel purposeful. What a conduit for letting go. Ahh, the grit of it all, and how magical it smells.
