Fast 'n' Bulbous Extrait de Parfum
Fast 'n' Bulbous is a glorious, unhinged collision of the feral and the sweet, a fragrance that lurches and lopes like some laughing beast through swamp and circus alike. Inspired by the joyous, broken genius of Trout Mask Replica, it is a living thing—angular, sweaty, floral, musky, swinging between beauty and grotesquerie without warning.
It opens in a burst of green and bright noise: Pine resin crackles against the waxy, powdered glow of Iris Palladia and the sudden, yelping sweetness of Jasmine Grandiflorum. Mimosa flashes yellow and sly, a strange, sunny grin behind it all. It's brightness with something wrong at the edges—sunlight fractured through crooked glass.
Almost immediately, cumin and civet crash through, sharp and intimate, a wild animal smell beneath fine fabrics. The musk is raw, undeniable, clinging to the skin with the stubborn, joyful insistence of life itself. Vanilla absolute tries to tame it, but only half-succeeds, making the sweat smell sweeter rather than cleaner.
Peru balsam, patchouli, and costus slither in next, thick and resinous, dragging the heart of the fragrance downward into darker, stickier depths. Costus, in particular, hums with a dirty humanness—hair, skin, the memory of bodies moving fast and strange.
Golden ambergris, Mysore sandalwood, and ambrette seed float like spectral echoes through the chaos, lending a softness that never quite settles, a golden mist around the madness. Russian leather and amyris smolder quietly at the base, dark, cracked, and worn, like the scuffed floor of an endless, stumbling dance.
Fast 'n' Bulbous is a swaggering, sweating, luminous cacophony—a fragrance that doesn't walk so much as stagger and croon and shriek its way into the world. It’s ugly and it’s beautiful, and it sticks to your skin like a ghost that laughs when you try to name it.
Fast 'n' Bulbous is a glorious, unhinged collision of the feral and the sweet, a fragrance that lurches and lopes like some laughing beast through swamp and circus alike. Inspired by the joyous, broken genius of Trout Mask Replica, it is a living thing—angular, sweaty, floral, musky, swinging between beauty and grotesquerie without warning.
It opens in a burst of green and bright noise: Pine resin crackles against the waxy, powdered glow of Iris Palladia and the sudden, yelping sweetness of Jasmine Grandiflorum. Mimosa flashes yellow and sly, a strange, sunny grin behind it all. It's brightness with something wrong at the edges—sunlight fractured through crooked glass.
Almost immediately, cumin and civet crash through, sharp and intimate, a wild animal smell beneath fine fabrics. The musk is raw, undeniable, clinging to the skin with the stubborn, joyful insistence of life itself. Vanilla absolute tries to tame it, but only half-succeeds, making the sweat smell sweeter rather than cleaner.
Peru balsam, patchouli, and costus slither in next, thick and resinous, dragging the heart of the fragrance downward into darker, stickier depths. Costus, in particular, hums with a dirty humanness—hair, skin, the memory of bodies moving fast and strange.
Golden ambergris, Mysore sandalwood, and ambrette seed float like spectral echoes through the chaos, lending a softness that never quite settles, a golden mist around the madness. Russian leather and amyris smolder quietly at the base, dark, cracked, and worn, like the scuffed floor of an endless, stumbling dance.
Fast 'n' Bulbous is a swaggering, sweating, luminous cacophony—a fragrance that doesn't walk so much as stagger and croon and shriek its way into the world. It’s ugly and it’s beautiful, and it sticks to your skin like a ghost that laughs when you try to name it.