The scent opens with a burst of oriental sweetness, liquorice root tea, but still expresses itself very dryly. Think panela sweetened sugar syrup, that has half dried onto a cedar palette. It is surrounded by salt which has taken the water of the syrup and made it more chalk like. There is not much that is overly resinous about it. The musk sits behind the wood. A light old formulation of English Fern stirs on the side of a paddock 500m away and is carried through somehow on a breeze to the mens tea room of this scent. There are peach coloured roses to the side, falling off the bush that also nest under the trees/woods. The pepper is very powdery and aged, finely ground white pepper with cinnamon of the same age in there too. Pepper takes over and a handful is thrown over the mound lightly coating it. Small patches of thin moss spring up, cousins of the fern. The softness from the Australian sandalwood, which compared to Indian sandalwood, is much more rounded at the ends and lends the scent a certain femininity that is balanced by the pinch of old, polite incense.
Maybe I will wear this scent when I retire and are in the reading room.
The smell makes me think of the museum cottages here in Australia that recreate colonial domestic scenes with old washing apparatuses, combs, mirrors, worn but pleasant things. The wood lacquered again and looking worn still. A suspended patina. It's polite with a bit of brightness, it's character is playful but in a methodic way: an uncle's tried and tested joke, there is nostalgia in the feel of it.