That white flowers smell of sex is a given. That they also smell of black rubber and blood and death and mystery continues to surprise. Gross? Yes. Strangely compelling? Again, yes. A thing can't be called a 'guilty pleasure' unless the guilt and the pleasure are democratically distributed.
Syrupy and overpowering, Bottleneck Blues pins me down like an overenthusiastic lover, burying me in the satiny weight of sugar-encrusted petals. This would be divine if not for the furtive odor of unwashed feet that rises from the bed sheet depths. His or mine? I don't know, and I don't care. If there's an olfactory equivalent of 'turning a blind eye', now's the time for it.
Scent Elements: Bergamot, lilac, magnolia, rose, tuberose, jasmine, oakmoss, hay, earth accord, labdanum, woods, vanilla absolute, ambergris, musk, castoreum, tonka