Sylvia

Fig opens tart and jammy, its sweetness immediately met by dark cassis that pulls toward wine-stained fruit. As clove arrives, a peppery warmth threads through black tea's brewed, slightly astringent depth—there's something almost medicinal in how these middle notes settle. Sylvia dries to cedarwood's dry, woody spine with vanilla softening at the edges, the spice fading until only warm wood and a whisper of vanilla cream linger on skin.