For days, I've struggled to pinpoint what exactly about Slumberhouse Vikt keeps me dipping into my rapidly diminishing supply of same. Not the oud, which for all its disturbing splendor proved to be the standard article. Not the laurel, though I love it in abundance (unlike my husband, who decries my tendency to lard a pot of chili with practically a whole tree's worth of bay leaves). Only today did I find myself wondering which of my coworkers would accidentally leave an apple to rot in their desk drawer... merely to realize that the sweet, yeasty scent of fermenting Malus domestica came from my own wrists.
Having long been a cidermaker, I confess to a fondness for the intoxicating pong peculiar to this hobby, though I remain unsure that anyone else finds it (or its fruits, so to speak) quite to their taste. I can't get enough... as the dwindling level of perfume in my sample vial of Vikt proves. That it's backed by an unworthy synthetic wood base remains moot. I love this stuff. It's Rume after aging ten years in a cellar. I feel unashamed to drain it to the very dregs.
Scent Elements: Oud, styrax, Madagascar laurel