Moth

A moth can spend all day camouflaged on tree bark, only to end up as smoke and ash because of a single flame. ZOOLOGIST Moth smells of that fateful flight: dusty flowers, dark spices, honey, and the flame that constantly waits beneath.

Black pepper, cinnamon, clove, cumin, nutmeg, and saffron open the extrait with a dense, almost gothic impact. Lemon is merely a sharp flash through the dark cloud of spices.

Heliotrope, iris, jasmine, mimosa, lily of the valley, and rose then create a large powdery bouquet. Honey clings to the petals and the tiny hairs of imaginary wings, sweet, sticky, and a little stale like a closed room.

Tomoo Inaba traces the story from daytime camouflage to nighttime search for a mate. Moonlight glides over the wings, but the attraction to the flame interrupts instinct in a brief cloud of smoke.

Ambergris, resins, guaiac, nagarmotha, oud, patchouli, and vetiver later provide an earthy, exotically woody depth. Musk softens the dust, while smoke remains a constant warning beneath the honey.

Moth is not a sweet honey perfume nor a romantic floral gothic. It is a honeyed rose dusted with iris powder, cumin, oud, smoke, and the ashes of wings — beauty flying straight towards what will destroy it.