No. 23
Fragrance notes
Character
No. 23 opens with a slap of black pepper and birch tar that smells less like a campfire and more like the charred skeleton of one, the embers still hissing under a sudden rain. That marine tang is no breezy suntan lotion it feels like cold seaweed wrapped around a pier piling, and the licorice note emerges not as candy but as a sharp, herbal root dragged through wet earth. The whole thing develops into a smoky, animalic leather softened by a faint patchouli amber base that never quite turns sweet. This is the scent of walking into an Icelandic fishing shack after a storm, where drying tobacco blends with drying fish and the wood has been stained black by decades of salt and tar.
Longevity sits around three hours and sillage is a whispered confession, both of which feel deliberate. This fragrance is a personal talisman, not a broadcast. It suits someone who wants to smell like they have just returned from a foggy coast, not someone chasing compliments in a crowded elevator. Skip it if you prefer transparent florals or sweet gourmands, you will find no handholding here. Wear it for a cold autumn walk, a wet winter evening, or to remind yourself that northern beauty is often harsh. A single question lingers: is this a fragrance or a memory of a place that never quite leaves your skin?
Smells similar
Built from the same materials — ranked by how unusual the shared notes are, not by how many.
