The essence of an untamed spirit. High bush blueberries, wild ivy, Spanish lavender, aged oakmoss, tonka, decaying bark, and forest fungi.
When I’m not taking naps in my overgrown garden, I’m at the farmer’s market selling my homemade marmalade and preserves.
In a vast dust cloud at the center of the Milky Way there is an abundance of ethyl formate, a simple aliphatic ester found in the aroma of rum and raspberries. To these elements, we’ve added notes from astronauts’ descriptions of the smell of their suits when they return from space walks – freshly welded metal, gun powder, seared steak in an iron pan, burnt almond cookies, charcoal, and ozone.
I could be straight edge or I could be someone who keeps a journal detailing all the undocumented research chemicals they’ve tried; both are completely plausible with no in-between.
A very naughty flirtation of black cherries exquisitely bathed in Maraschino liqueur, cherry amber, musky black amber, dark spiced rum, warm nutmeg, and Peru balsam.
You’ve probably read one of the sleazy gas station romance novels I ghostwrite. I smoke from a cigarette holder unironically and I make alcoholism look dangerously sexy. Teenaged boys often make passes at me and sometimes it works.
An olfactory portrait of industrial decay and the fallen gods of age of disruption, innovation, and technological revolution… fire hardened steel, rusted iron, motor oil, wet cement, burnt copper wires, and grey amber.
I make sculptures out of scrap metal and most of my hobbies are labour intensive, which works out quite nicely as I somehow smell even better when I’m sweaty.
A dark and ferociously sexy blend of Black Oud, Black Musk, Labdanum, and spiced Pipe Tobacco blended with a seductive purr of Black Opium.
I’m so hot I can pull off bedhead and badly applied eyeliner. “Damn she is so hot,” you think to yourself, right as I piss myself on our way out of the dive bar. Okay, kinda gross. But whatever, you’re drunk and you can just tell the sex is gonna bomb.
The essence of a deliciously scandalous tea reading. Fine white tea leaves, delicate bone china, a parchment letter from a mysterious stranger, a menage a trois of elegant vanillas, and a piquant pinch of aphrodisiac white pepper.
I have small feet and don’t know how to dress myself because my butler Bartholomew does it for me.
A nostalgia of animal crackers, warm milk, a soft blanket, and luminescent white amber daydreams
I’ve just let a stranger take shelter from the rain in my home. I give them some hot tea and a blanket to warm up under. I’m worried they’re still cold, so I give them a second blanket. Then another. And another. “Thank you, but please stop giving me blankets,” they plead. “Why do you have so many blankets?”
An opulence of cashmere sensuously perfumed with rare Japanese boudoir incenses, luxurious caramel pralines, vanilla orchids, bergamot, orris root, candied lemon peel, and a splash of champagne.
I prefer spending Friday nights alone with a good book and a good wine, but if I’m DTF it’s only with people who are married and weak-willed.
A sparkling brightness of uplifting bergamot tea, lemon balm, gingerflower, lime leaf, fresh hay, a playful splash of champagne, a twist of grapefruit, and spiritually centering white sandalwood.
I look incredibly clean all the time and I always use the server’s name when addressing them. I also leave big tips regardless of how good the service is.
The wild seduction of a full moon night. A luxuriant bed of moss, crushed wet ferns, earthy calamus roots, piquant cedar tips, galbanum, balsam pine, lichen, disturbed autumnal leaves, and aromatic incense woods.
I can identify most plants by their scientific name and I’m completely unfazed about swimming in leech-infested waters. People mistakenly assume I’m a Wiccan but I think it’s a bullshit religion.
Irrational but well rounded. Warm apple pies rising heavenward on effervescent billows of spiced aldehydes.
My pantry is the final resting place of long-expired spices, dusty candles, and handwritten receipts. I spend a lot of time perusing antique shops, and my wardrobe consists of hand-me-downs and things I’ve sewn myself.
An atmospheric brooding of Spanish moss, crumbling stone, old cement, red clay brick, and graveyard dirt.
I keep getting invited to family functions even though I spend half the time sitting on the ground outside, absent-mindedly picking up handfuls of dirt and letting them fall between my fingers.
Light hearted top notes of Key lime and bittersweet chocolate gelato lead to mischievous middle notes of sugar-dusted neroli blossoms, ripe blueberries, warm cardamom, fluffy marshmallows, black tonka, and Indonesian vanilla.
You come into the family-owned bakery where I work and order a lemon poppyseed muffin at my suggestion. You make some awkward small talk and leave, tossing the muffin into the bin outside because you don’t even like muffins. You do this at least 4 more times over the summer break.
Tart blueberry and a snap of fresh blackcurrant with powdery purple iris, salty ambergris, tonka bean, young lilacs, white vanilla, and translucent musk
I’m a single mom with mama bear energy and my 2 kids think of me as their best friend because I’m a child at heart.
Sweet, cold scoops of pleasure. Pistachio ice cream, honey ice cream, Madagascar vanilla gelato, and a chilled porcelain bowl.
I own at least one Biologique Recherche product and I’m diligent about applying body lotion. I could be a model but I’d rather be working in my pottery studio or playing acoustic covers of Yé-Yé songs at my local cafe.
Buckwheat honey, dark earth, long tendrils of cauldron smoke reaching up to the sky, damp, decaying leaves, wild chanterelles, blackened lavender stems, dried tea leaves, and wildflowers.
My best friend is a crow and once a week I like to get high off the wild psilocybin mushrooms that I forage myself.
Delicate white peach with our Ultraviolet accord (piquant white tea, tender violets, sweet vanilla, bubble gum, and cotton candy).
I say I’m exuberant but everyone thinks it’s mania. I have no sense of boundaries and often get discounted coffee from the one barista I call “babes.”
Soft vanilla, white amber, white musk, Mysore sandalwood, sweet pumpkin, and a tiny pinch of white pepper.
I’m fostering an abandoned baby squirrel and I somehow look good in my mema’s handmade sweaters. I’m the sort of hobby baker that uses vanilla pods and edible flowers, so all of my neighbours are fat.
Drunken honey, lavender-laced mallow, soft amber, night musk, and hints of strawberry and nectarine.
By day, I sell contemporary art out of an independently-owned gallery. By night, men pay me to wear stilettos and step on their heads.
Rain, woodland strawberries, fresh water, petitgrain, osmanthus, clover, and smooth amber.
I get depressed if I don’t have regular access to a beach or body of water to swim in, and I make a mean margarita.
The scent of rebellious young punks and toothachingly sweet innocence. Bright fluorescent lights, glossy watermelon-flavored lip gloss, a ziplock baggie of fresh, green bud, and sticky vanilla-laced marshmallow treats.
I’m a bad speller, I keep stealing your lighters, and I’ve made out with all your friends, but you keep hanging out with me because I have great weed and I always share.
A silken lunar blend to honor our mother, the moon. Blushing pink cherry blossoms are lightly infused into cold milk with the softest, fluffiest Mexican vanilla, caramelized tonka bean, cane sugar, and a bit of sweet hay.
My skin feels like the cool side of a soft cotton pillow, and you were able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks after resting your face in the crook of my neck. Sex with me might be vanilla but it makes you blurt out “I love you” without thinking.
The essence of an ancient forest imbued with otherworldly secrets. A circular clearing hidden deep in a vast grove of towering conifers, green velvet moss engulfing massive tree trunks, fog hovering over wet ferns, rich, creamy vanilla, and softly aged patchouli.
We just had sex on damp soil in an old forest clearing and now you have the worrying suspicion that you are about to be offered as a sacrifice to Cernunnos.
The monstrously sweet scent of clowns gone wrong. An outlandish, carnivalic mix of white pancake makeup accord, pink cotton candy, and the salty sugariness of warm kettle corn.
Yeah so I became really fascinated with John Wayne Gacy during my stay, and after I got released, mother said that… I could have sworn you were standing closer a moment ago. Oh fiddlesticks, am I imagining things again?
Juicy pink grapefruit shimmies up against a bevy of California citrus fruits, sparkling champagne, and ripe strawberries. The indulgent essence of breakfast with a screen goddess.
You can hear me approaching by the clacking of my bangle bracelets. People remember my hugs and my nieces and nephews love me because I let them eat the sugary cereals for dinner.
Golden amber resin, Siberian fir needle, Arcana’s Holy Terror (burning frankincense, sandalwood, deep myrrh, and dusty beeswax candles), coarse brown bread, and warm fur.
I’ll invite you out to the remote cabin that I built myself, and you’ll accept because you’re not totally sure you’ll come back alive and that kinda turns you on.
Fried ice cream with vanilla-laced caramel sauce, hot popcorn, sugared amber incense, a hint of sweet tobacco, and a drop of red musk
I work at Blockbuster and my hair colour changes every week. I sometimes get in trouble for loaning out bootlegs of weird and obscure foreign films from my personal collection to the customers.
Cannabis, incense, agarwood, dark indonesian patchouli
I do Tarot card readings to help others with their life problems. Personally though, a nice fat bong rip is how I deal with mine.
Smoked vanilla, cacao absolute, Stay-Puft marshmallows, graham crackers.
I lick melted chocolate off of my fingers and rub the remainder onto my shirt. There is a crust of dried chocolate on the corner of my mouth and I have a tummyache.
Rain-soaked granite, mountain air, petrichor, creeping ivy, damp earth.
I don’t know what soap is but I still smell amazing and have perfect skin.
Ripe, fleshy cherries, slivered almonds, a bite of blood orange, and a fine chianti.
My red lipstick does not budge and my smile melts even the coldest hearts. I know everyone at the cocktail bar on a first-name basis, and I’ll probably be putting a ball gag on someone later tonight.
Chimney smoke, freshly fallen snow, and the cool, dry, musky scent of a cat just in from a long winter stroll.
I’m probably the only person you know who actually brews tea using the optimal temperatures and steeping times, and it pays off because that is some damn good tea.
Silver amber, fur, lunar musk.
You’re at a house party and I look stone-cold sober even though you’ve seen me sipping on whisky all night. We start chatting but you get flustered by my intense eye contact and have to excuse yourself. When you finally work up the nerve to speak to me again, I’m nowhere to be found, and no one else at the party seems to know my name.
Steamed milk, lavender buds, honeyed apricots, chamomile tea, honey, white amber.
I can give the best scalp massages you’ve ever experienced and spoon you into a coma.
An atmospheric, conceptual blend of skunky, weedy, dried bud notes, dirt, flannel shirt pocket lint, a faint hint of berries, fir, and apple (munchies and misdemeanors not included)
I’ve got the highest grade in English class even though I regularly show up late and high. And no, it’s not because I aggressively flirt with the teacher.
Pink bubblegum, vanilla bean pod, light musk.
I wear babydoll dresses and carry extra tampons in my bunny backpack for women in need when I’m out clubbing or raving–which I can somehow afford to do often despite not having a job.
Leather straps, metal chains, wooden paddles, earthen floor.
I have a massive collection of old manuscripts, knives, and taxidermy animals that I’d love to show off, if only people weren’t so afraid of me.
Smoke, motor oil, low-octane gasoline.
You’re almost certain you’re not the first woman I’ve taken into the back of this vintage Jaguar I’m restoring, but you’re going to brag about the whole experience to your friends anyway.
Lascivious crimson musk, crumpled velvet, leather, amberspice accord, animalic accord, suede, over-ripe figs, rum, raspberry, cognac, smeared red lipstick, tobacco, silken underpinnings, florid skin, cocaine accord, smoke.
If your cunnilingus game is weak I’ll definitely talk about it in my next standup comedy set.
Lavender, vanilla, spectral musks, vetiver, tonka, jasmine, tea leaves, oakmoss.
I’ve got 6 grandchildren and a prescription for medical marijuana.
Raw denim, crushed tobacco and fresh wet paint. Top notes of vintage cherry blossom, kerosene and sparkling pink lemonade.
I’ve tried every recreational and non-recreational drug you could possibly read about on erowid. People are drawn to my charisma and eclectic personality, though I make them slightly nervous due to a rumour that I’ve stabbed someone before, and they could totally see me doing something like that.
Delicate strawberry blossoms, sour lemon candy, strawberry sugar and frosted daiquiri
My hero is Martha Stewart and no one organizes group brunches like I do. My guest bedroom is probably more luxurious than your master bedroom.
Sweet black cherry, lapsang souchong, a still warm hearth, Peru Balsam, Cherry cognac, powdered tonka bean.
I have public fights with my on-again-off-again boyfriend who looks like Peter Steele, and I had to dip into the funds from my child modelling days to fix my 1993 Honda Civic which broke down for the 2nd time this week on my way to band practice.
A quicksilver mirror reflects plumes of opium smoke surrounding sugared pears, a goblet of emerald-green absinthe and black silk.
I’ve got a $200 haircut and can be seen reading either The Anarchist Cookbook or The Satanic Bible during downtime at my corporate job.
Bright green ice cream baked inside marshmallow meringue (usually found during summer months in cafe midi).
I’m broke and torn between expanding my Funko Pop collection and renewing my Crunchyroll subscription. My CPTSD and anxiety disorder manifest as a bubbly personality and only my bullet journal knows the pain I’m in.
Stolen peaches, yellow marshmallow, chopped cedar, blackberry aftershave and cigar smoke
I have a large collection of novelty ties, and when I’m at the bar I can be seen sipping a fruity cocktail and smoking from a pipe.