Anubis
Fragrance notes
Character
Anubis opens with a sharp, dusty slap of saffron and pink lotus, the floral note almost medicinal against a backdrop of scorched myrrh and olibanum. It is immediately heavy, velvety, and unapologetically resinous. The suede note arrives not as soft leather but as a saddle worn thin by centuries of ceremony, stiff with immortelle’s syrupy hay and a whisper of jasmine that never quite blooms. This is not a fragrance that courts you. It sits on the skin like a relic pulled from a tomb, sealed in amber and warm spice, its tobacco undertone more imagined than explicit, a ghost of smoke in the dry down.
The overall character is that of a darkened temple where the only light comes from a single candle burning on a stone altar. It feels entirely natural, dense with resin and herb, and proudly niche. If you want to smell approachable, skip this. It suits the person who dresses for themselves on a cold November evening, the one who finds comfort in ritual rather than applause. Wear it when the sun sets early, to a dim bar or a long walk through wet leaves. Its weaknesses are real: longevity sits around moderate at best, and sillage is close to the skin after the first hour. You will need to reapply or press your nose to your wrist to catch the embers still glowing beneath the ash.
Smells similar
Built from the same materials — ranked by how unusual the shared notes are, not by how many.
