At first, it has a strong smell of gasoline, in which flower petals are drowning in thick, oily-inky shades. With every breath, I sense pungent, slightly wine-like fumes of fuel spilled at a gas station, as well as the exhaust of loudly puffing SUVs. The mimosa here has heavy leathery overtones with powdery, honeyed, and damp-green accents; the violet lies in the same olfactory spectrum, almost indistinguishable from the mimosa — dense, crumpled, hostile, with tannic, cheesy, manure-animalic notes (as if Love In Black was ruined with an overdose of mushroomy, dirty oud). In the background, there’s an unpleasant hum, reminiscent of both a stuck vinyl record and the metallic screech of an electric guitar through an amplifier. The harmonics of the fragrance are so fast and loud they seem almost herbal. It immediately brings to mind the fiercely hissing cypress in Gucci Guilty Absolute, as well as the dark accord of rotting fur in another Byredo creation, M/Mink.

As it dries down, Animalique becomes softer and more approachable, as if the rough pilling has been scraped off a saddle, leaving it smooth with a matte, tea-like hue. The mimosa takes on golden, sunset shades of apricot, oak, and carrot seed, blending into tart, rooty, woody notes. The violet stops vibrating like a taut string and settles under a warm blanket of soft, airy powder. Animalique borrows the dry, earthy elements of Modest Mimosa and mixes them with the sharp woody-floral accords of Une Fleur de Cassie, coating everything in an oud-like gasoline, covering it with cotton flakes, and dusting it with cosmetic powder. A vintage aura contrasts here with unpleasant hints of bad breath and horse sweat. It’s definitely not a fragrance for me — but I’m sure it will find its admirers.