Byrehoe

My kneejerk expectation based on name was EDM bacchanalia but the scent conjured up more… sultry scientist? Clean, cool, aloof. Powdery in a pleasantly latex glove way, with a chill of aseptic mint. I didn’t catch the carrot in this, which was a shame, as I think I’d have bought it if it was more green leaning. My second favourite of the DvN litter, but I also live in a hospital and love medical menthol scents. Rest assured no eau d’chlorhexidine about Neon Garden, though.

Longevity: ~6h on both fabric and skin

Mental Snapshot: You’ve just won the Nobel Prize. (You have cured Celiac disease). You’re the first person to develop gluten-free gluten. And first to accept their award in Rhianna’s Swarovski gown.

Tl;dr: I think people that have waterfall showerheads smell like this.

A thick, sticky, resinous aroma with veins of smoky evergreen and tendrils of sticky toffee. The darkest, heaviest sibling of the DvN pantheon. There’s something indulgent about this scent; I’d probably enjoy wearing this potion out for cocktails, but wouldn’t want to go the whole day swimming in it. When I run out of this tester I will be sad, but I don’t think I’d use it nearly enough to rationalise a whole bottle.

Longevity: strongest sillage of the lot and admirable endurance (>10h on my skin)

Mental Snapshot: You’re a goddess made flesh; a high priestess being worshipped before a beach bonfire. Your acolytes line the forested bluffs above, singing your name. You’re definitely getting laid tonight.

Tl;dr: if I were a prehistoric wasp, I’d get ensnared in this amber.

This is a steampunk scent. Not steampunk cosplay, either. We’re talking the real deal, debonair-spinster-piloting-a-zeppelin scent. It’s an opulent black rose desiccating inside an eccentric professor’s workshop. On first waft, there’s an indelible rubber note that doesn’t quite evanesce. Beyond that I’m getting oiled suede, polished brass, a little tang of motor oil. Perhaps a ghost of spilt bourbon. This is not a fresh scent. It smells antique, archival, and slightly sweaty. Since zeppelin pilots are a bit unrealistic for a target market, I’ll go with kinky librarians.

Longevity: at least 7 hours with respectful sillage. Less rubbery on fabric than my skin, so I prefer to spritz straight on the ‘fit.

Mental Snapshot: Midway through the Aerial Council’s debutante ball the whole ship lurches. You sprint straight from your waltz to the boilers, slipping your trusty screw-wrench from the laces of your corset. A whole ballroom of gearsmiths and mechaneers and only you, Contessa Zipphora Crane, can hold their drink well enough to recalibrate a luftheryion generator. Not that any of them could do it sober.

tl;dr: industrial rose. ️

Somehow manages to smell both fresh and mature, both fresh-squeezed and faux. The pomelo oil is nearly photorealistic on first spritz, just on the cusp of ripeness, but soon eclipsed by the white noise of manufactured musk and pale florals. However it’s not unpleasant or saccharine, and remains crisp throughout its lifespan. I’m imagining the mist percolating from a Muji oil diffuser through a beauty parlour – one that is surgically clean and untouched since the eighties. It’s a vapourwave scent to me; a liminal citrus.

Longevity: I was getting four hours tops, and a faint four hours at that. It’s a gentle hum that you sometimes have to search for, like pressing your ear to a conch shell.

Mental Snapshot: You’re getting a trim at a nameless salon along the Riviera. The Floridian Riviera. Tufted vinyl recliners, white wicker shelves of sea glass, sun-bleached posters of phantom pageant winners. The nameless coiffeuse is dressed in head-to-toe white linen and gives you exactly what you need, but not what you asked for.

tl;dr: eau de San Junipero

I’m a dessert person, but I find most gourmands sickly sweet. This fragrance was the first to have that bittersweet richness I was yearning for. Nutty, mildly-spiced cocoa. Not saccharine milk chocolate, but more of that expensive semi-sweet chocolate that comes wrapped in wax parchment. It smells expensive. (As it should, if you’re popping three-hundo on a bottle). Warm, enveloping, heady. A dark floral current makes me imagine burgundy, velvet-petaled roses. The chestnut dwells on the skin, even after the cacao and silk has left the party.

Longevity: ~8h, but a silky, dark nuttiness that lingers for over 24h on fabric. (I can't believe I just typed "silky, dark nuttiness").

Mental Snapshot: You’re on your fifth date. It’s at their mum’s sprawling Tudor manor in the countryside. (She’s gone for the weekend). You’re going to get frisky before the fireplace, but you’re still on your best behaviour. The couch you’re cosied up on cost more than your car.

Tl;dr: Michelin-star gourmand.