"It is also startling, a result of the oddness that comes as much from what you are not smelling — the absence of the ubiquitous synthetic musk Galaxolide, for example — as what you are. Nor does the perfume smell like guaiac wood, at least not patently. It smells like the sweet sunlight-filled citric burst you get from gashing the peel of an exquisitely fresh orange with your thumbnail mixed with the scent of warm hay (very fresh, with no trace of dust) and a clear mint-like freshness that manages not to have the slightest trace of literal “mint.” Its sweet comes without sugar. It is so straightforward that it smells mysterious, and it is so simple, so nakedly, lucidly pure that it smells naïve. This is something else. One feels about this perfume as one would a tiny blossom, impossibly lovely, ridiculously fragile, evanescent. If you appreciate the Keatsian paradox and find beauty in the ephemeral, you will find in Guaiac one of the most exquisitely lovely perfumes you have ever smelled." Chandler Burr, perfume critic, New York Times

frankincense, guaiac wood, pink grapefruit, rosa damascena