Sideris

By the editors · 2 min readSideris opens with a stately procession of resins—frankincense, myrrh, and labdanum—their smoky sweetness tempered by the medicinal edge of saffron. There's nothing discreet here: the incense arrives dense and ceremonial, like walking into an empty church at dusk where the thuribles have just been swung. The warmth is immediate but not cloying, each resin distinct enough to recognize before they blur into a golden haze.

As it settles, a rose emerges through the smoke, not fresh-cut but preserved in amber—petals pressed between pages of an old book. The sandalwood and benzoin in the base add a powdery, vanilla-tinged softness that keeps the composition from turning austere. What remains is both monastic and sensual, bridging the sacred and the profane.

Sideris suits those who want their incense unadorned by citrus or spice distractions. It's contemplative without being melancholy, a study in resins that wears close and lasts through evening prayers or solitary walks.