maybe that's all love is: realness.

heart: as you settle, hyacinth arrives. hyacinth is one of the greenest floral notes; it has a fresh-cut stem sense with a damp earthiness underneath. it smells akin to walking through a flower shop while the buckets are still full of water. it keeps the fragrance from becoming overly "pretty." then an underscore of iris—NOT sugary violet makeup-powder iris—cool, rooty iris. the scent of iris comes from the root of the plant itself, not the flower. felt-like texture and a whisper of gentleness that leans expensive rather than synthetic.

body: an incredible sheer finish. neroli, bright white blossoms with a slight citrus kiss and just enough of a bitter snap to keep it all clean. the ozonic notes sprinkled in would again not smell like the ocean so much as open sky after a tempest: cool, crisp air, clean fabric fluttering on the sill, mist suspended above a lake.

pearl white, pale celadon, dove gray, frosted blue, soft silver. giselle ballet but the akram khan version, botanical conservatories, water gardens, handwritten notes on cotton parchment, the pictures your sister specifically took two years out from being pregnant, swiss-italian border, frosted glass in the foyer of homes, white orchids growing through stone, metalwork, marble under your bare feet, cage crinoline, echo of a voice within a cathedral, eros & psyche.

@leonsbrat ⧽ head: dark chocolate, heart: hibiscus, amber, body: fig nectar, cinnamon, night-blooming jasmine.

anna and i have known each other for so long. she's a slow melt, a warm laugh dripping all over you. i adore her, and her work and her friendship have carried me through so much. the name anna means grace or favor. as a perfume, she'd be as rich and sensual as she is in life.

head: you're a simple open, a mimicry of dark chocolate, but it isn't sugary here. imagine a zest closer to 70–80% cacao: bittersweet, earthy, almost dusty, with a faint roasted quality. you create instant depth without turning the fragrance into a dessert. you never show your full hand all at once.

heart: into the thick of it, we find hibiscus beginning to bloom. hibiscus isn't commonly extracted naturally for perfumery, so we tend to evoke the idea of the flower instead - playing slightly tart, crimson, fruity-floral. juicy red quality, amber wrapping around both notes, smoothing their edges. a modern amber that's resinous and glowing rather than smoky; golden light on dark wood.

body: you come alive here. fig nectar adds soul. i don't want to work with the green, leafy side of fig, but the fruit split open at peak ripeness: milky, honeyed, pulpy & creamy - bridging the chocolate top beautifully because both share a subterranean richness. a touch of cinnamon to introduce warmth without making you a holiday; dry, woody spice, not a cinnamon roll. night-blooming jasmine unfurls to close it all out: indolic, humid, sweltering, giving the fragrance its almost mesmeric quality.

velvet pulled over a lamp, rimmel's lasting finish matte lipstick by kate moss, oxblood, aubergine, espresso, plum, forest green, garnet, antique gold, the renaissance era, ceramic cookware, eating out late in the evening, foxtrot, the exact transition period between autumn and winter, tchaikovsky, gunslinger, westerns, watercolor-inspired video game concepts, a lighter you don't use for anything other than to stimulate the hands, returning to your homeland, the way a sunset can lend a halo to the back of one's head, a secret whispered into a sweat-wet neck, sleeping in fetal position.

@peach4pazzi ⧽ head: pink pepper, heart: wild orchid, whipped cream, body: raspberry bloom.

my playful peach. peach is a movement, a way of life; full body-laugh, a fun flirt, catching your lip between your teeth. bright bright bright georgia peach. best girl in the world.

head: oh, you're a star. bright open with pink pepper, which, despite its name, isn't particularly spicy. it sparkles in a sense, has a rosy, near citrusy effervescence that feels like opening a bottle of prosecco. it gives you energy rather than heat. then your heart appears.

heart: wild orchid, baby - more fantasy than reality in perfumery. unlike the rose or jasmines of the world, orchids don't naturally have one universally recognizable scent, so we use "orchid" to evoke an impression like we do hibiscus: silky-tropical sweetness, creamy creamy creamy - oh, dash of whipped cream to shake the mood. this isn't bakery whipped; imagine something airy: vanilla cream folded until it's almost weightless. sister to mousse than frosting; softens the orchid without burying it.

body: you finish in a wave of raspberry bloom. bloom, not fruit. we're borrowing from both the raspberry and the blossom. juicy pink berries rolling alongside delicate white blossoms. you're sweeter than hibiscus but fresher than jam. we keep you close, fending off any chance of detonating a sugar bomb.

youngest of the family, impulse buys, no calls but no texts - voice memos, frosè, laughing so hard you snort, strawberries at a farmers' market, satin ballet flats tossed on the floor, the first warm saturday ever in april, spring-into-summer, the rosary tree at the loretto chapel in santa fe new mexico, twenty tabs open, living at full speed, lemon meringue pie, sleeping on a hotel balcony, sharp sharp ash-blonde bob, feminine but not juvenile not precious, open palm slap, raspberry pink, warm yellow-ivory, soft coral, black streak.

@azzified ⧽ head: tuberose, heart: lily-of-the-valley, coconut milk, body: snow, turkish red rose.

so helpful all the time, but also such a soft, centered energy. perfect balance with a wide fun streak. a secret of a woman you have to get past to find the treasure. perfect & so integral; i miss you the minute you're gone.

head: tuberose is a note with the reputation of being loud and almost narcotic, but in the right composition it's unbelievably slick. it's just gorgeous, and it smells like a garden sitting warm in the incessant beat of the august afternoon sun. you're succulent, buttery, and just a little dangerous. we don't push.

heart: unexpected. lily-of-the-valley cutting through all that richness. it's one of the freshest white florals in perfumery: green, crystalline, almost bell-like. i'm biased because it's one of my favorites. we introduce cool air into you, breaking through what could have become an overwhelmingly opulent scent. then coconut milk seeds through. we don't want toasted coconut, or that sunscreen scream. we want milk; such an important distinction. you smell smooth, almost steamed, with a subtle lactonic simmer that clings to the tuberose like a lover gone fearful. velvet push, careful of going sharp.

body: you give us snow. obviously snow doesn't have a smell, but it's often interpreted as chilled musk, transparent aldehydes, airy blonde wood, mineral notes; the sensation of cold rather than a literal scent. the snow keeps all other notes suspended in thin air. finally, turkish red rose blooms - deep, jammy, crimson rose with a kick of spice and honey crush. a single red flower growing out of an otherwise white landscape; you've learned to endure, return.

tibetan mountains, ghost stories, the blinding effect of moonlight against a blizzard or turning on your highbeams during snowfall, warm milk before bed, sleeping through a storm, contradictory, hard line, deeply romantic, greenhouse in winter, cashmere sweater, antique fireplace, lace curtains, the brand doen, victorian flatware, four-poster bed of dark wood, winter wedding, mother of pearl, old botanical illustrations, art deco, the year before the 1920s exploded into depression, stark white, circus life, dogwood pink, sage, midnight blue, baby blue, violet, lilac, scarlet, dipsomaniac, blue hour.

@wecrytogether ⧽ head: oud, heart: tiare, tonka bean, body: black rose, cashmere.

i once told niyah she is a forest fire in the best way: destructive only to what can't last, clearing space for something truer, more aligned to her. a phoenix, too, rising again and again. so clever it catches me off guard. she takes life by the throat and insists on living it, even when it resists, even when it pushes back. still true. i love you, glad i get to.

head: an oud welcome (another hard favorite), but don't think aggressively medicinal or barnyard. a smooth sweep, wood polished over time, slightly smoky, with hints of leather and resin. you're immediately grounding.

heart: a surprise, but never a second thought. tiaré: solar, buttery, usually conjures beaches and monoi oil. but she's sitting next to oud and they hold hands and she's losing her vacation feel. instead, she becomes exotic in the oldest sense of the word: lush, plush, soporific. tonka bean, vanilla's middle sibling. almond, hay, tobacco, caramel, and warm spice woven together. comfort without ever becoming commodified. softens all else, gives a skin-like warmth.

body: a conceptual black rose; dark dried petals, faintly fruity, faintly spicy, essence of wine. cashmere isn't really a smell, but a texture. here we often mean it as tepid musk, summer woods, and an enveloping suede finish.

billie holiday, nina simone, dark cherry wood cabinets, the artist-muse relationship of liv ullmann and ingmar bergman, persona (1966), authentic persian rugs, brass lamps, thick knitwear, cotton sheets, boutique hotels, paris in early-middle october/late november, fingerprints smeared over aureate heirlooms, california traffic, "i'll call you back", nothing feels too precious to use, iberian lynx, wolves' eyes like silver dollars in the dark, border between nightmare and dream, the crackle of a record player, tattoo on the inner wrists, "it didn't really hurt all that much" (liar), espresso brown, deep deep mahogany, amethyst, slate blue, yale blue, raven black.

@azzibueckers5 ⧽ head: raspberry, licorice, heart: vanilla, labdanum, body: violet, blackberry.

my ella, sweet ella. "other" (germanic), "goddess" (hebrew), and "torch" (english/greek). you're so enigmatic; always in and out in the best way. no pressure, but self-assured. something ephemeral, but the touch lasts, the memory of you never fades. brilliant.

head: raspberry, but darker. crushed raspberries staining fingertips, rather than fresh berries in a market basket. tart at first taste, then rich, intoxicating. beside it is licorice, a change in personality. licorice in fragrance has anise facets: cool, herbal, sweet, faintly medicinal, and a little mysterious. it makes people tilt their heads because they can't quite place you. together, they're addictive. dulcet, obscure. you're addictive, a lempicka painting.

heart: vanilla pulls you out, takes your hand. you're no cupcake vanilla, but clotted, glossy vanilla. we want to indulge, want to eat you right up. sanding the licorice bite without erasing it. labdanum follows; masterstroke. labdanum cousin to amber, sun-baked, leather lip under the jaw, dried fruit, and honey. a "shadow", incredible depth.

body: you're a violet close. shy of powdery/waxy lipstick, shy of candied; after rain. a little green, a little melancholic. tender exhale into something mellow, quiet. blackberry burst before the fade.

the dark of the theater as the curtain has yet to rise - light behind it, fresh ink, stained glass, the inside of a jewelry box, twilight, vanilla and apple tea in a mug with a chip on the handle, purple bruise blooming on the skin (love bite), smoke of a candle after the blowout, dry humor, books stacked on the floor, marginalia, ribbon bookmark, silver rings, black cherry (color), smoke plum, lavender, ash grey, azure, aqua, indigo, kiss on the forehead, never let you go.