Black Vines
Fragrance notes
Character
Black Vines opens with a crack of star anise and black licorice, a double hit of that polarizing root beer sweetness that can either thrill or repel. The Canadian fir and ivy arrive quickly to ground the candy-like brightness in something green and almost medicinal, like chewing a stick of licorice while walking through a damp pine forest. As it develops, cinnamon and Peru balsam wrap the anise in a warm, syrupy amber that softens the edges, while fig and vanilla creep in to smooth the rough herbal splinters. The dry down settles into a gentle, powdery vanilla-tonka base dusted with incense, but that licorice ghost lingers stubbornly, refusing to fade completely.
The overall character is a black velvet pouch stuffed with antique cough drops and dried bay leaves: strangely elegant, slightly morbid, and utterly committed to its singular vision. With moderate longevity and a sillage that stays close after the first hour, it feels deliberately intimate rather than loud, more niche than mainstream in its refusal to compromise on that anisic core.
This is a fragrance for autumn and winter nights, best worn by someone who genuinely enjoys black licorice and wants a scent that smells like a quiet, spiced ritual rather than a party. It suits the kind of person who reads by candlelight and collects odd curios. Those who recoil at even a hint of anise should skip it entirely, because there is no escape. The vanilla and fir might suggest broad appeal, but the licorice is the star, and it does not share the stage.
Smells similar
Built from the same materials — ranked by how unusual the shared notes are, not by how many.
