Byredo Animalique: mimosa doused in gasoline

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).

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.