Zoologist Squid - Apothecary Lost in the Ocean

Yet another masterpiece by Zoologist. For me, Squid is an old wooden apothecary chest, perhaps from the Victorian era, that was somehow lost at sea. Inside were medicinal powders, some of them spilled, along with bottles of ink that had broken open. The chest drifted through the ocean for years, soaking up salt water, until one day it finally washed ashore. By then, the wood had become completely saturated with salt, seaweed and little shells clinging to its surface, coral growing around it, tiny crabs crawling between the cracks. And that is almost exactly how this fragrance smells to me. Old tooth powder, medicinal powders, spilled ink, salt-soaked wood and the cold depths of the ocean. There is a strange medicinal sweetness running through it, and somehow it manages to be sweet, bitter, salty, sour and almost umami all at once.

What fascinates me is that, despite all this cold, marine, almost pharmaceutical character, there is something unexpectedly intimate about Squid. Something bodily, boudoir-like, even sexual. It also has this peculiar nervous pulse running underneath everything. Not anxiety, exactly, but a subtle tension that prevents the fragrance from becoming just another beautiful picture of the sea.

It changes remarkably with temperature and humidity, too. In the heat, in cooler weather, in damp air, I seem to discover a slightly different version of it every time. And then there's Nazaré, on the Portuguese Atlantic coast, with its enormous waves. For some reason, Squid always takes me there. Not to a peaceful beach or a pretty seaside holiday, but to that overwhelming mass of cold water, the immense depth beneath it, and the sheer physical power of the ocean. Such a strange, complex and absolutely beautiful fragrance. Beautiful enough that, after trying the sample, I ordered a full bottle.