Wind Song

By the editors · 2 min readWind Song opens with a peculiar herbal brightness—tarragon's anise-like sharpness cuts through the citrus, lending an almost culinary edge to the neroli and bergamot. It's an unconventional start that quickly softens into something more familiar, as jasmine and ylang-ylang arrive with their heady, indolic sweetness. The rose feels almost incidental here, a supporting player to the lusher white florals.

The base settles into a warm, resinous cocoon of sandalwood and benzoin, with cedar and vetiver providing a subtle woody scaffold. Amber and musk round everything out into that characteristic mid-century softness—powdery without being explicitly talc-like, comforting without being cloying. It's the kind of scent that clings to scarves and wool coats.

Wind Song ultimately reads as a well-mannered floral chypre from an era when perfumes were meant to announce a woman's presence in a room without overwhelming it. The tarragon opening remains its most distinctive feature, a peculiar touch that sets it apart from countless other jasmine-centered fragrances of its time.