One that I loved was, I suppose, technically a duet based on the ingredient description: the late Saturnalia:
Unrestrained revelry, unchained licentiousness! Violet deepened with vetiver.
(Disclaimer: I'm severely hyposmic and synaesthetic, meaning that my perceptions may not reflect common experience.)
Saturnalia may not have bottled Shriekback’s concept of a Roman orgy, but it distilled a wild, dark, and numinous place, most commonly defaulting to brooding rain-damp forest earth: suitable not only for the season implied in its name but for hot weather, as the expression of a cool green vegetal shade (as distinct from an icy air-conditioned cyan.) My periods would bring out a really fascinating effect: the ingredients would separate out into a changeable taffeta of dark funky chthonic olive-green vetiver and sweet girly periwinkle-blue violet: “Some Velvet Morning”(the original song by Lee Greenwood and Nancy Sinatra) in a bottle, or animus and anima fissioned out as in Arthur Machen’s “The Novel of the White Powder.”
no subject
Unrestrained revelry, unchained licentiousness! Violet deepened with vetiver.
(Disclaimer: I'm severely hyposmic and synaesthetic, meaning that my perceptions may not reflect common experience.)
Saturnalia may not have bottled Shriekback’s concept of a Roman orgy,
but it distilled a wild, dark, and numinous place, most commonly defaulting to brooding rain-damp forest earth: suitable not only for the season implied in its name but for hot weather, as the expression of a cool green vegetal shade (as distinct from an icy air-conditioned cyan.) My periods would bring out a really fascinating effect: the ingredients would separate out into a changeable taffeta of dark funky chthonic olive-green vetiver and sweet girly periwinkle-blue violet: “Some Velvet Morning”(the original song by Lee Greenwood and Nancy Sinatra) in a bottle, or animus and anima fissioned out as in Arthur Machen’s “The Novel of the White Powder.”