LYNCH AKA SMOKED STYRAX - SPIRITICA

Extrait de Parfum 35%

Dreamed in Hollywood

Top Notes
Saffron
Cloves
Night-blooming jasmine
Cherry pie

Heart Notes
Australian Xanthorrhoea
Latakia tobacco
Oud
Myrrh
Styrax

Base Notes
Dark woody notes
Benzoin
Patchouli
Latakia tobacco
Vanilla with a gourmand accord

LYNCH AKA SMOKED STYRAX

“The owls are not what they seem.”
“I gufi non sono quello che sembrano.”

LYNCH is a mysterious and hypnotic fragrance, an olfactory portal that pays tribute to David Lynch, one of the most important and defining presences in my life.
Not just a filmmaker, but a guiding entity, a parallel consciousness that influenced me with the invisible force of symbol and dream.

This fragrance was created in collaboration between Daniele Muratori Caputo and two great master perfumers: Leonardo Opali and Paolo Cerizza.

The scent opens with dark and alluring notes, like a red curtain slowly parting to reveal another level of reality.
A passage opens through the mists of the Twin Peaks woods. The air is dense, suspended between dream and nightmare.
Time loops, like an old magnetic tape rewinding itself. LYNCH AKA SMOKED STYRAX is a perfume that dwells in the intersections of the unconscious — a noir fragrance that burns slowly, like fire.

The opening notes are a curtain lifting over a table set at the RR Diner: the hypnotic sweetness of cherry pie mixes with the dark depth of woody notes, creating the illusion of homely warmth.
But nothing is as it seems. A whisper of night-blooming jasmine brings us back to reality —
to the scent David himself loved to inhale on spring nights in Hollywood.
Dry, dusty saffron takes us back to the unsettling love scenes in the deserts of Lost Highway.

At the heart, the scent ventures deep into the woods: smoky leather and Latakia tobacco evoke the whisper of wind through the redwoods and the shadows of figures moving among the trees.
A smoked styrax note seeps in like a forewarning, wrapping everything in an enigmatic and unsettling atmosphere.

The base is a distant echo, a whisper from the Black Lodge: dark resins, earthy oud, and night musk leave a dreamy trail —
like a fleeting memory, a fragment of uneasy reality that crumbles upon waking.
A vanilla as dark as a moonless night.