She Was an Anomaly

Green mandarin zips across your wrist with citric brightness before frankincense's powdery, almost dusty presence materialises immediately alongside it—no gradual reveal, but rather a simultaneous collision. The synthetic elements create an almost aqueous quality, as if the fragrance is contained within some invisible membrane.

The plum emerges with unexpected astringency, pulling against the white blossoms rather than harmonising with them, creating a subtle tension that keeps the composition from settling into simple florality. Powdery notes intensify, wrapping everything in a subtly cosmetic haze that feels both intimate and slightly alienating, like someone wearing makeup as conceptual art rather than adornment.

The musk and sandalwood form a gossamer base that clings determinedly to skin without projecting—the fragrance becomes almost invisible, a trace of woody warmth and pale amber-ish musk that requires the wearer to lean in to detect. It reads finally as contemplative rather than sensual, a whisper that refuses to shout.