Balsamic notes
Oakmoss
Sandalwood
Vanilla
Vetiver
Fir absolute
Barbarella27
20 Reviews
Translated · Show original
Barbarella27
You don't have to understand life.
You don't have to understand life,
then it will become like a celebration.
And let each day happen to you
like a child, in the continuation of every breeze
allowing itself many blossoms.
To gather and save them,
that doesn't occur to the child.
It quietly releases them from its hair,
where they were so gladly caught,
and holds out its hands
to new ones in its dear young years.
-Rainer Maria Rilke
Forage reminds me of my childhood, and especially of my time as a self-proclaimed young witch. Glittering pebbles (aka cat gold), unusually shaped sticks, colorful leaves, dried flowers and herbs, empty snail shells and seashells, colorful feathers, animal bones and skulls, and everything that crossed my path during my excursions was inspected or (thoughtfully) collected.
Treasures that held a special magic and a sense of reverence.
About the scent:
Forage begins, similar to Cascadia, with a minty-cool coniferous scent. But instead of a camphor-like sharpness, Forage unfolds gently and sweetly, comparable to green mint and licorice.
I imagine a gnarled, ancient tree giant in a colorful autumn garb, in whose dappled shade anise-scented nettles and a velvety moss carpet grow. Mushrooms and lichens sprout around the sturdy trunk, filling the forest air with their nutty and spicy aromas.
The sun is just breaking through the cloud cover, casting golden-yellow light spots on the forest floor strewn with withered leaves, warming the bark of the trees.
The scent of fresh earth and balsamic resins, with nuances of creamy, slightly smoky vanilla, oily musk, and spicy honey wafts through the landscape.
And although I have hung up my witching days, the childlike enthusiasm for the magic around us remains. For the eternal cycle and especially autumn, with its sensuous, kaleidoscopic splendor of gold, yellow, and red tones, the last colorful performance of nature before it once again retreats to rest. A time of gathering strength, slowing down, and transience - with the certainty of a new beginning…
- I think of the old, gnarled tree leaning, and I mean to hear its deep heartbeat.
then it will become like a celebration.
And let each day happen to you
like a child, in the continuation of every breeze
allowing itself many blossoms.
To gather and save them,
that doesn't occur to the child.
It quietly releases them from its hair,
where they were so gladly caught,
and holds out its hands
to new ones in its dear young years.
-Rainer Maria Rilke
Forage reminds me of my childhood, and especially of my time as a self-proclaimed young witch. Glittering pebbles (aka cat gold), unusually shaped sticks, colorful leaves, dried flowers and herbs, empty snail shells and seashells, colorful feathers, animal bones and skulls, and everything that crossed my path during my excursions was inspected or (thoughtfully) collected.
Treasures that held a special magic and a sense of reverence.
About the scent:
Forage begins, similar to Cascadia, with a minty-cool coniferous scent. But instead of a camphor-like sharpness, Forage unfolds gently and sweetly, comparable to green mint and licorice.
I imagine a gnarled, ancient tree giant in a colorful autumn garb, in whose dappled shade anise-scented nettles and a velvety moss carpet grow. Mushrooms and lichens sprout around the sturdy trunk, filling the forest air with their nutty and spicy aromas.
The sun is just breaking through the cloud cover, casting golden-yellow light spots on the forest floor strewn with withered leaves, warming the bark of the trees.
The scent of fresh earth and balsamic resins, with nuances of creamy, slightly smoky vanilla, oily musk, and spicy honey wafts through the landscape.
And although I have hung up my witching days, the childlike enthusiasm for the magic around us remains. For the eternal cycle and especially autumn, with its sensuous, kaleidoscopic splendor of gold, yellow, and red tones, the last colorful performance of nature before it once again retreats to rest. A time of gathering strength, slowing down, and transience - with the certainty of a new beginning…
- I think of the old, gnarled tree leaning, and I mean to hear its deep heartbeat.
Updated on 09/10/2025
Yatagan
Ergoproxy
Mörderbiene
Kovex
ParfumAholic
Fluxit
