Odor 93
Mystic Trilogy
Current 93
Odor 93 is a journey into a fairy-tale world. An emotional dedication to the band Current 93 and its founder, David Tibet. The odorous fairy tale opens its curtain between smoky and spicy notes. The ritual of the tale is celebrated; the fog hides the event from view, enhances our imagination, this dreamlike journey. Our steps become slower and slower and the perfume opens the heart of the fairy tale.
Tale
The olfactory current of Odor 93 floats on the obsessive notes of the Tuberose and Narcissus accord. A fragrant novena in which extras and protagonists participate, dramatic figures in an enchanted forest of Northern Europe. If you close your eyes and listen to your path, you will hear grotesque characters of your imagination and as if by magic, the journey becomes wonder, fairy tale.
Mistical story
The dim lights of dawn ask for space, among the thick branches of the forest, the perfume spreads its roots, a woody, smoky and animal background, wakes us up from the journey. The perfume is a soul that draws our shadow, and the shadow is a grotesque character of our imagination. Each of us, around a fire, has told or listened to fantastic stories, fairy tales and legends; Odor 93 drags you into the heart of that fire, to discover the secret of the quest, the secret of the current.
Odor 93
In walking your path, follow the olfactory current with Will and Love. You will see a way, you will smell a scent.
Musical inspiration: Aleph at Hallucinary Mountain and All the pretty little horses by Current 93
Composition
- Tuberose
- Narcissus
- Guaiac Wood
- Patchouli
- Cumin
Olfactory family: Flowery
Facets: Woody, Spicy, Green
Bottle of perfume
€ 195,00
€ 8,00
Drop by drop, into a river,
Listening inside me, the emptiness,
The immense space from below.
Gather the flower, close your eyes to its feeling,
the essence, the memory, nothing more, now.
That lonely and orderly time has come,
in the black room, in the silence,
Where a white cat lives,
loudly speaking to me.
I close my body in the center of the room,
the white cat listens to my silence.
Aloud it speaks to me.
I looked at the mothers who held my hand during the day, along the riverbank, between the stones and the shallow water at my ankles.
I did not understand their words, for they were dumb, but I could see their mouths moving, sometimes hovering in the void.
Drop by drop, into a river,
Listening inside me, the emptiness,
The immense space from below.
Gather the flower, close your eyes to its feeling,
the essence, the memory, nothing more, now.
That lonely and orderly time has come,
in the black room, in the silence,
Where a white cat lives,
loudly speaking to me.
I close my body in the center of the room,
the white cat listens to my silence.
Aloud it speaks to me.
I looked at the mothers who held my hand during the day, along the riverbank, between the stones and the shallow water at my ankles.
I did not understand their words, for they were dumb, but I could see their mouths moving, sometimes hovering in the void.
