COLLABORATIVE POST

WE THREE KINGS

STORY:
In an age long before ours, beneath a sky laden with stars, three figures cloaked in the fabric of distant lands embarked on a sacred journey. They were the Magis—Persian priests, scholars of the cosmos, whose hearts pulsed with the wonders of the universe and the warmth of ancient wisdom. Their feet glided over vast, sun-baked deserts, where whispers of the wind carried tales of destiny and revelation.
Each King bore precious gifts, intricately woven into the tapestries of their cultures. Their noble steeds were adorned with gilded trappings that shimmered, reflecting the ethereal glow of celestial bodies guiding their path. The air quivered with anticipation, infused with the spontaneous scent of hope that rose like incense from the earth and mingled with the history of their journey.
As they approached the humble dwelling in Bethlehem, the scent of frankincense wafted through the night, rising in spirals of smoke, a fragrant offering of devotion. In their hands, they clutched sacred vials no less than elixirs—gold that glimmered with the promise of kingship, myrrh that whispered of mortality’s embrace. The rich aroma of aged cedarwood enveloped them, a reminder of sacred temples long revered and the dreams of civilizations lost to time.
Upon entering the modest stable, they found the Child—a beacon of light wrapped in swaddling cloth. The air shimmered with a transcendent fragrance, a melding of their earthly offerings and the divine promise that lay before them. As frankincense danced in the air, the golden strains of liturgy filled the space, echoing off the hay-strewn walls and whispering prayers throughout the holy night. The fragrant clouds lingered, wrapping the infant Jesus in a surreal shroud of devotion.
Labdanum, with its warmth like a mother’s embrace, drifted alongside the scents of mystique and purpose. The Magis bowed low, each heartbeat resonating with the ageless ties they shared with this Child—a unifying spirit transcending boundaries, sacred and profane, East and West.
In that celestial moment, history and myth intertwined—a stillness held in reverence for the journey that had led them here, the crossroad of cultures where incense kissed gold and the essence of the divine lingered in the air.
As the night waned, their gifts exchanged, the Magis departed, leaving behind a lingering imprint, an olfactory tapestry woven from cedar, myrrh, and the sacred utterances of the heavens above. The scent hung in the air, a fragrant testament to the unbreakable ties that bound humanity—a memory of a journey that would echo through time, ever entwined, like the harmonious notes of a timeless hymn.

SUGGESTED NOTES:
Labdanum, Frankincense, Myrrh, Cedar wood, Gold, Persian Rose, Hay and something to round it up

PERFUME NAME
Ghosts of Rebellion

Story: The Fragrant Ghosts of Punk London

As he wandered through the winding alleys of London, enveloped in a grey trench coat, the chill of autumn hung in the air, mingling with the tantalizing aroma of organic decay and damp concrete. The unmistakable scent of rain-soaked asphalt blended with the heavy perfume of sweat and smoke wafting from nearby clubs, beckoning him toward the pulsating heart of the city’s gritty nightlife. The flickering neon lights illuminated the cobblestone path before him, casting ghostly shadows that danced to the beat of muffled music. Each step built a cacophony of sound—shouting voices, shattering glass, and the rhythmic thump of a bassline that seemed to echo the very essence of rebellion. Skulls adorned with vibrant, rebellious graffiti peered out from the walls, their painted grins juxtaposed against the drabness of the urban decay surrounding them. In the distance, the rush of a passing train echoed through the tunnels as the scent of cigarette smoke entwined with the bitter fragrance of spilled ale, enhancing the intoxicating atmosphere. He pressed on, the air thick with the mingling aromas of leather jackets and heavy, oiled machinery, igniting the spirit of the city’s avant-garde denizens. The distinctly carnal smell of leather and perfume lingered, a reminder of nights filled with fleeting encounters and defiant passion.
Suddenly, he found herself at the entrance of an old pub, its once-glorious façade now faded and crumbling, the silence interrupted only by the rustling of leaves and echoes of music trapped between worlds. As he stepped through the threshold, the familiar scent of England enveloped him—a blend of fragrant tea and bitter ale swirling from the dimly-lit windows of the house, the smell of budding snowdrops and daffodils from a nearby patch of grass, symbolizing the everlasting spirit of London, defiant to all the changes. It was a reminder that beneath the layers of history, there lingered the delicate aroma of nostalgia, intertwining past and present, rich with stories waiting to be rediscovered.

NOTES:
Organic decay, damp concrete, sweat, smoke, leather, spilt ale, rustling leaves, tea, daffodils and snowdrops

RESTLESS DREAMS (Inspired by Silent Hill 2)

The town appears before you, surrounded by a thick, oppressive fog and a chill air with a touch of metal. It’s the smell of a town long since forgotten, where time itself feels suspended and nature has started to reclaim what was once human-made.

There’s a distant floral undertone, something soft yet tragic, like wilting flowers in an overgrown graveyard, adding a touch of fleeting beauty amidst the decay – like the memories that never quite fade.

Earthy notes like damp wood and wet concrete approach you, reminding you of the town’s abandoned buildings and unsettling silence. There is a sense of foreboding and unease, like the shadows lurking behind every corner and in your mind. The longing for your lost love creates a melancholic tension, and although there is a feeling of guilt and unease you can not quite place, you embark on the journey of hope from within as you enter the town.

Notes suggestions: Decaying flowers, damp earth, moss, wet concrete, stone, ozone, fog, mist, rust, metal, leather, vanilla, blood, ashes, old paper.

HUBRIS SIDERIS (inspired by Ice Queen!)
As midnight approached, the wizards’ steps became heavier and heavier with anticipation. The way to the peak of the mountain was arduous, icy air laying glittering crystals on their long, white beards.

Blanketed in fresh snow, gleaming under otherwordly, silvery light, the highest point in the kingdom delivered its promise: the whole universe felt tantalizingly close to the tiny spot, like it could touch the old men with long, bedazzled fingers.

The ritual circle was laid down in slow, deliberate gestures, the smoke from the burning incense, a positive omen, was the first to rise up in spirals. Right in the center of the circle, where the sky seemed more reachable than ever, gleaming lilac, hovered the tiny, precious soul of the maiden princess, stolen before her desperate eyes through ancient, dire magic that left her heart and her kingdom trapped in a dark everwinter.

But what was a kingdom, to the universe? What even was a girl to the infinite stars? That night they would finally reach them, breach the veil that separated their tiny, pathetic world from the others. How much iron lay up there in the stars? How much gold, on the distant planets?

OPENING – fresh and ozonic, evoking icy air: violet, pine, mint
HEART – cosmic dust, metallic and mineral: metallic notes like iron and silver, slate, dust, mineral notes, salt
BASE – dark, incensy and resinous, evoking the night ritual: myrrh, olibanum, frankincense, styrax, rose, patchouli