Nishane
Nishane
11.2k votes
Best for
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Saffron's leathery, almost ferric quality crashes into mandarin's fizzing sweetness within seconds, creating a peculiar tension between spice market and citrus grove. Neroli adds its slightly soapy, petitgrain-tinged brightness, but the saffron dominates, coating everything in that distinctive red-gold haze that feels vaguely medicinal yet utterly compelling.
Mimosa unfurls with its characteristic green-honey strangeness, meeting violet's iris-powder softness in a haze of talc and lipstick that somehow reads as elegant rather than grandmotherly. Orange blossom and ylang ylang weave underneath, adding a creamy, almost narcotic floral density that pushes the composition firmly into gourmand territory without tipping into sweetshop vulgarity.
What remains is pure textural pleasure—tonka and vanilla create a soft, almondy sweetness that's been tempered by vetiver's earthy-woody bitterness and sandalwood's creamy restraint. The musk is skin-close now, that just-showered warmth amplified rather than masked, with the faintest ghostly echo of powdered florals hovering at the edges like a memory you can't quite place.
Hundred Silent Ways drapes itself across the skin like crushed velvet soaked in almond milk and dusted with saffron. Chris Maurice has orchestrated a tightrope walk between opulence and intimacy here—the opening's tangerine-stained neroli collides with earthy-metallic saffron in a way that feels simultaneously baroque and restrained. What follows is where things get interesting: mimosa's cucumber-green honeyedness mingles with violet's lipstick-powder softness, whilst ylang ylang adds a custard-like depth that prevents the florals from floating away into abstraction. This isn't sharp white flowers screaming for attention; it's muted pastels rendered in oil paint rather than watercolour.
The base is where Hundred Silent Ways reveals its true nature as a skin musk disguised as a floral. Tonka and vanilla create that almost edible quality—think frangipane rather than birthday cake—whilst vetiver provides just enough woody dryness to keep the sweetness from cloying. Sandalwood adds a subtle creaminess that wraps around the musks like cashmere. The overall effect is plush, cocooning, unmistakably expensive-smelling without being loud about it.
Add fragrances to your collection and unlock your personalised scent DNA, note map, and shareable identity card.
4.1/5 (38.0k)