Description
A dusky, jammy floral with unexpected notes of sweet tobacco, pepper, and smoke. Three varieties of rose and a handmade peony enfleurage become something unrecognizably special against smoky hinoki, resinous elemi, and warm rosewood. Tangy flowers, like overripe fruit and rose preserves, with a dry, woody haze underneath.
How To Use
Apply a small amount on the wrist, behind the ear, or on any pulse point.
Ingredients
Sclerocarya Birrea (Marula) Seed Oil*, Paeonia Lactiflora (Peony Enfleurage) Oil*, Chamaecyparis Obtusa (Hinoki) Wood Oil, Aniba Rosaeodora (Rosewood) Wood Oil, Canarium Luzonicum Gum (Elemi) Oil, Rosa Centifolia Flower Extract, Rosa Bourboniana Flower Extract, Rosa Cymosa Flower Extract. *Organic
Sizing & Info
Approx. 15 ml / 0.5 oz
Store in a dry place away from heat and direct sunlight. As with any of our products, please spot test for adverse reactions before use and discontinue if irritation occurs. Please consult with a physician before using if pregnant or breastfeeding. We recommend using our products within a year of purchase. Opened Slow Beauty products are final sale.
The Bottle
Each silver fumed bottle is a distinctive work of art, hand blown by a master glass artisan in Colorado, and shipped using the ancient method of cork and wax sealing.
Shipping & Returns
Free standard shipping on orders over $150 within the United States. Orders under $150 ship for a flat rate of $10. Expedited options are available, more info here.
Items purchased on kindredblack.com are eligible for return provided that they are returned within 14 days of the ship date and in new, unopened, unused, and undamaged condition. Opened products and custom orders are final sale.
Heures Louche is a dusky, jammy fall floral with unexpected notes of sweet tobacco, pepper, and smoke.
This limited edition perfume is created with the rested oil that is extracted from plump peonies, organically grown on a historic Civil War–era farm in upstate New York. Steeped in the history of the land in which they grow, as well as their own lore as a flower of protection and immortality, the blossoms are hand picked and the oils slowly suffused into fat through an ancient method of perfumery called enfleurage. With time and labor the spirit and scent of the living peony flower is carefully extracted.
Tangy flowers, like overripe fruit and rose preserves, with a dry, woody haze underneath.
The elevator is warm,
though the night air has turned sharply cool.
One foot in front of the other,
fingers tense and curling
into a fist that will announce my arrival
with a rap that is too loud
for the late and languorous hour.
Too many steps, it is an impossibly long way.
The bouquet, so recently firm and fresh,
looks somewhat past its peak,
its perky insistence on summer
turned dark and overripe
by the persistent pressure of a hand
damp with animal anticipation.
Brown tipped petals scatter gently on the floor,
leaving a wake of moonlit pebbles
that will illuminate the way back.
The scent of mild, sweet tobacco emanates from inside,
escaping the undulating folds of heavy drapes
and soft, silken rugs.