Opus XVI – Timber
Fragrance notes
Character
The opening hits like a cold axe into resinous wood: cypress and juniper slice through with piercing green sharpness, while pink pepper and cardamom add a fizzy, almost dusty warmth. The cocoa note is subtle, more a textured bitterness than sweetness, and it lingers as the heart unfolds with frankincense’s smoky church incense over fir’s crisp pine and a whisper of herbal lavender. On the drydown, the wood pile deepens: sandalwood’s creamy milkiness, palo santo’s sacred citrus-tinged resin, cedar’s pencil shavings, and a vanilla-softened patchouli that keeps things from turning austere. This is a scent that feels less like a forest and more like a single, ancient tree that has witnessed centuries of rain and frost. It is natural and quietly niche, never synthetic or loud, which explains the modest sillage and longevity numbers. You will need to lean in to catch it after a few hours. This fragrance suits someone who values texture over projection, a contemplative soul who wants their scent to be a private cocoon rather than a declaration. Skip it if you expect compliments from across the room or crave bubblegum sweetness. Wear it on a brisk autumn afternoon walk or a winter evening by the fire. It belongs to you, not the room. 🪵
Smells similar
Built from the same materials — ranked by how unusual the shared notes are, not by how many.
