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Holy Hell Universal Flowering 2021

7.0 / 10 10 Ratings

A limited perfume by Universal Flowering for women and men, released in 2021. The scent is floral-fruity. It is still in production.
Pronunciation Compare Limited

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Main accords

Floral

Fruity

Synthetic

Earthy

Fragrance Pyramid

Top Notes

Melon

Moroccan neroli

Heart Notes

Suntan lotion Plastic

Plastic

Choya Nakh Violet

Violet

Base Notes

Ambergris

Driftwood

Vetiver

Perfumer & Creative Guidance

Courtney Rafuse Perfume maker

Ratings

Scent

7.010 Ratings

Longevity

6.33 Ratings

Sillage

5.03 Ratings

Bottle

7.34 Ratings

Submitted by TheBladi11, last update on 09/28/2025.

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Reviews

3 in-depth fragrance descriptions

09/29/2025

babepdx
16 Reviews

babepdx

Creative but a Miss For Me

Polarizing scent. I typically love unique, weird, nostalgic scents, but this one was not the vibe. To me, it starts off smelling like Davidoff's Cool Water. The plastic note truly does smell like a beach ball and that's the most intriguing and enjoyable part of this scent! Then comes the choya nakh (toasted sea shells + sandalwood) aaaaand I'm on my way to the sink to scrub my skin.

04/29/2025

6Scent 6Longevity 4Sillage

geminimeanie
7 Reviews

geminimeanie

1

Weird, but oddly appealing

Definitely the strangest scent I've encountered so far. It opens with burning rubber then shifts to hot vinyl, but something about it was menthol-adjacent? I was expecting my skin to go numb where I dabbed it and then my mouth nearly started watering??? It then blooms into a mildly synthetic plastic with a pleasant floral background. Never had a fragrance transform so dramatically. Very intimate and overall I can see it's niche appeal.

04/16/2025

Byrehoe
205 Reviews

Byrehoe

4

plastic static

Melancholy solar musk. Act 1: honeydew balm. Act 2: beach ball static. Act 3: hot sand sugar cookie-ing to oiled skin. The plastic and sunscreen smell true to life, but don’t sleep on the choya nakh (roasted seashell). I first encountered this note in RdF’s Nitesurf Neroli and it’s become a fast favourite – gritty, mineral, toasty. But I don’t get a Malibu Barbie dreamscape from Holy Hell. There’s something sad about this beach day. You’re reading Plath on the beach, uncaring if you burn. You’re watching The Florida Project, alone by the pool. It's the scent of beach rotting: sand, sunscreen, and bare skin baking on an inflatable flamingo. Longevity hangs around a wistful four hours on my skin with light sillage. Siri, play Summertime Sadness again.

Mental Snapshot: Every summer in college I’d weekend at a dear friend’s beach house, on a sleepy stretch of the Ocean City boardwalk. It was an old clapboard beauty, tenderly preserved: chintz wallpaper, Tiffany lamps, clawfoot tub. We cried in the attic bedroom, sunburnt and sticky with funnel cake, when her parents broke they’d put it up for sale.

tl;dr: last day at the beach house