Furred; reciprocated. Dense with rich, dimensionality.
Subsumed; proffering up sun-dipped, velveted flowers; spices, balsams, and a filthily indecorous lick of costus – Fille D’Eve, in vintage extrait, comes as something of an overtly erotic shock in the usually held back politeness of the Nina Ricci pantheon.
Costus, a rudely animal-smelling note in fact of plant origin, is often compared by perfumists to the smell of unwashed hair (a smell I can’t endure personally but can understand the compassionate human magnetism of). As a perfume ingredient, however, it is a note I have sometimes loved very much when used in the warm, subliminal undertones of such sensual scents as pre-reformulation Kouros, Cabochard, Parfum D’Hermes, and perhaps most effectively, Vol De Nuit.
Without this anchoring, lustfully invisible lower layer, the above perfumes seem to fall apart at the seams when you smell the versions that have been ‘cleaned up’: as though the ingredient…
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The Black Narcissus 