Slow Dance

Slow Dance feels like stumbling into a dimly lit room where resin has been melting for hours, the air thick with something sweet and slightly narcotic. The opoponax launches immediately with its warm, balsamic honey-spice character, but it's the labdanum that gives this fragrance its backbone—a leathery, ambery resinousness that feels almost tactile against the skin. Jérôme Epinette has created something deceptively simple: a scent that smells like intimacy itself, all pressed shirts and body heat, the ghost of violet and geranium floating through like a half-remembered perfume on someone else's collar.

This isn't the clean, soapy geranium of masculine fragrances; it's bruised and slightly medicinal, crushed between the patchouli's earthiness and vanilla's soft blur. The violet adds a powdery, lipstick-like quality without tipping into full retro territory. What makes Slow Dance so compelling is how it wears close—this is a fragrance for people who don't announce their arrival, who let you discover them gradually. It's for those who appreciate the smell of skin more than perfume, who want something that feels like a second layer rather than armour.