A fruity floral drowned in a cloud of fluffy musk, but listen for the approaching night through the stained-glass sunset hues of mandarin, warmed by the cinnamon roundness of myrrh, drunk on the dusk-blooming, indolic jasmine. A slight camphorated hint betrays a traipsing tuberose tossing her green flash. Chinese osmanthus, with its juicy apricot sweetness, its texture of ecru, is offset by the clove-y warmth of carnation and the milky lushness of almonds. A touch of lily adds obscurity, melding into the woody, creamy sandalwood base drowned in honey. Innocent? By deception only, as carnal whispers beckon towards the lure of dust, then darkness.