Balsamic notes
Oakmoss
Sandalwood
Vanilla
Vetiver
Fir absolute08/30/2025
Barbarella27
15 Reviews
Translated
Show original
Barbarella27
You don't have to understand life.
You don't have to understand life,
then it will be like a party.
And let every day happen to you
just as a child in the continuation of each labor
lets itself be given many blossoms.
To gather them up and save them,
does not occur to the child.
It releases them quietly from the hair,
in which they were so gladly trapped,
and holds out his hands to the dear young years
his hands after new ones.
-Rainer Maria Rilke
Foriage reminds me of my time as a (self-proclaimed) young witch. A time when glittering pebbles (aka fool's gold), unusually shaped sticks, colorful leaves, dried flowers, bark, empty snail shells, colorful feathers, animal bones and skulls, etc. had a very special magic.
Like Cascadia, the fragrance begins with a cool, minty coniferous scent. But instead of a camphor-like sharpness, Forage unfolds mildly and sweetly, comparable to spearmint.
I imagine a gnarled, ancient giant tree with a velvety carpet of moss growing in its shade. Mushrooms and lichen 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 dots of light on the forest floor strewn with withered leaves and warming the bark of the trees.
The scent of fresh earth and balsamic resins, with nuances of creamy, slightly smoky vanilla and oily musk, drizzled with spicy honey, wafts through the autumn forest.
I lean against the old tree and think I can hear its heartbeat.
then it will be like a party.
And let every day happen to you
just as a child in the continuation of each labor
lets itself be given many blossoms.
To gather them up and save them,
does not occur to the child.
It releases them quietly from the hair,
in which they were so gladly trapped,
and holds out his hands to the dear young years
his hands after new ones.
-Rainer Maria Rilke
Foriage reminds me of my time as a (self-proclaimed) young witch. A time when glittering pebbles (aka fool's gold), unusually shaped sticks, colorful leaves, dried flowers, bark, empty snail shells, colorful feathers, animal bones and skulls, etc. had a very special magic.
Like Cascadia, the fragrance begins with a cool, minty coniferous scent. But instead of a camphor-like sharpness, Forage unfolds mildly and sweetly, comparable to spearmint.
I imagine a gnarled, ancient giant tree with a velvety carpet of moss growing in its shade. Mushrooms and lichen 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 dots of light on the forest floor strewn with withered leaves and warming the bark of the trees.
The scent of fresh earth and balsamic resins, with nuances of creamy, slightly smoky vanilla and oily musk, drizzled with spicy honey, wafts through the autumn forest.
I lean against the old tree and think I can hear its heartbeat.
