D.S. & Durga
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Hemlock fir erupts with bracing resinous intensity, flanked by lime's acidic brightness and spearmint's peppery snap—it's aggressively herbal, almost medicinal, like walking into a Victorian apothecary mid-fire. Within moments, the smoke accord emerges, transforming the fresh green opening into something distinctly burnt and woody, forestalling any impression of simple citrus freshness.
Lavender absolute and rose attempt emergence, but they arrive already compromised by the pervasive smoke, creating an oddly unsettling floral accord that feels more like dried flowers left near a smouldering fire than a conventional scent composition. Tuberose adds creamy weight underneath, but the fougère structure ensures everything remains tethered to those burnt, resinous woody notes that refuse to recede.
Burnt oil and hay dominate completely, with vanilla emerging as something genuinely strange—charred rather than sweet, almost leathery in its development. The fragrance settles into a smoky, grassy dry wood that becomes increasingly mineralised and austere, ultimately resembling burnt hay and leather more than anything resembling conventional beauty, holding with surprising tenacity despite the noted longevity data.
Burning Barbershop arrives as a deliberate contradiction: the austere ritual of a classical barbershop filtered through acrid smoke. Kavi Moltz has crafted something that feels caught between nostalgia and transgression, where hemlock fir's medicinal pine cuts against bright lime and spearmint with the sharpness of a straight razor. But this isn't a clean shave—the opening announces itself with a crisp, herbal bite that immediately signals something darker is coming.
The heart reveals the tension at the fragrance's core. Lavender absolute and Turkish rose attempt to establish a civilised, almost gentlemanly character, but they're constantly undermined by tuberose's creamy indolence and that persistent smoky undercurrent. The lavender never quite settles into calm; instead, it takes on a slightly acrid quality, as though smoke has infiltrated the grooming ritual itself. There's something faintly unsettling about this juxtaposition—you can practically smell the leather chairs and talc powder, but with the scent of something burning just outside your awareness.
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3.7/5 (211)