Dear John

Dear John edgy
Bottle of Dear John on piano keys, with reflections.

I tested this one in the store, and loved the cloves–it faded to spiced coffee on the skin after a few hours, but I huffed my wrist all evening–and the next day I went back for a bottle.
Maybe the weather had changed, but the woodsy notes wound up being more than I bargained for, too green, too feral-tree-sprite than the Turkish cafe I thought I was getting.

I gave it my brother, who can pull off forest faun with just a smirk.
It suits him.


I bought this at the LUSH store in Stockholm. Theses guys come from there, too.

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