Expert reviewed
Dorian's Spleen is the olfactory portrait of a man frozen in eternity. Nothing moves him any more: not pleasure, not vice, not even drunkenness. His boredom is a slow poison, nourished by long nights, repeated gestures and absent thoughts. Beneath the elegance of a dandy, it is a soul without landmarks, undisciplined and empty, wandering in a luxury that has become automatic. This fragrance is the trace left by this drift: dark, refined, irreversible.
From the very first whiff, the whisky imposes itself with its raw dryness. Then the deep, bitter heart blends black coffee, burnt caramel and intense chocolate. In the background, the vanilla thickens, the guaiac wood gives off a muted smoke, and the whole slowly slips into a narcotic, almost lucid abandon.
