PI

What's genuinely unusual here isn't the pine itself. Pine is everywhere in perfumery, done competently and done badly. What sets PI apart is the mushroom absolute, a material almost nobody uses and almost nobody thinks to source. The mushroom in question shares a mycorrhizal relationship with pine, meaning it grows entangled with the tree's root system underground. Extracting its aromatic essence captures something you literally cannot get from any part of the tree above the soil. That earthy, fungal dampness threading through the resin and needles creates a roundness, a humus quality that pure pine compositions usually lack. It also explains why this isn't a sharp, bracing pine.

The evolution

The first spray hits with the Aleppo pine essential oil, bright and almost mentholated, like crushing fresh needles between your fingers on a cold morning. That brightness is a brief visitor. Within fifteen minutes the resin starts to thicken, pulling the scent toward something warmer and stickier, amber-toned, slightly sweet in the way that tree sap is sweet when the sun hits it. The mushroom absolute arrives next, not as a separate moment but as a deepening, an undertow that drags everything earthward. By the two-hour mark you're firmly in territory that smells less like a Christmas candle and more like the forest floor on an August afternoon: resinous, slightly damp, with that composting richness that makes pine groves feel ancient. The silvestris absolute never fully surrenders. It lingers in the base like a quiet bass note, giving the drydown a smoked, almost leathery quality. Four to six hours on skin, depending on how warm you run. The next morning, trace it on your wrist and you'll find resin and earth, the bright needle character long evaporated.