Pulp

What makes Pulp distinctive isn't complexity, it's conviction. The top accord of blackcurrant and cardamom creates an immediate tartness that reads almost aggressive. But the sweetness underneath isn't decorative. Fig and red apple arrive thick, fleshy, close to the skin. There's no gradual transition here, everything arrives at once, then settles together. The base of cedar and praline provides the counterweight: dry, warm, grounding. Without it, Pulp would be overwhelming. With it, the fruitiness becomes something more controlled, still bold, but with somewhere to land.

The evolution

The opening announces tart blackcurrant and cardamom with an intensity that hits immediately. Bergamot adds a cool edge, but make no mistake, this is a fruit-forward assault. Thirty minutes in, the sweetness deepens as fig takes over, red apple arriving thick and juicy. The tartness doesn't disappear, it settles, finding balance beneath the fruit. The heart introduces Tiaré flower, a creamy floral that adds depth without softening the composition. It feels natural, like fruit that's been sitting in the sun too long. The drydown is where cedar arrives, finally giving the fruit somewhere quiet to rest. Peach blossom lingers, praline adds a whisper of sweetness, and the whole thing settles close to the skin for hours, a quiet warmth that doesn't announce itself but doesn't fully disappear. On fabric, the praline can outlast the skin performance by half a day.