Noir Patchouli

Cardamom and coriander strike first, their spice hitting like a warm, slightly antiseptic breeze before the patchouli surges forward—dark, almost muddy, with that characteristic camphor edge. The coriander in particular creates an unexpected sharpness, like crushing green seeds between your fingers, preventing any sweetness from taking hold.

Juniper berry emerges with its resinous, gin-botanical quality, adding an aromatic lift whilst the floral notes hover ghostlike in the background—present enough to soften the edges but never fully materialising. The leather begins its slow reveal, not as a separate layer but as if the earth itself is hardening, tanning, transforming into something animal.

Vetiver and moss create a forest floor after rain—damp, organic, slightly bitter—whilst the vanilla and musk form a second skin, warm and quietly animalic. The patchouli has settled into something deeper, less aggressive, its earthiness now mingling with aged leather and the faintest whisper of sweetness, like tobacco-stained wood in an old study.