The Unicorn Spell by Isabelle Doyen for Lez Nez

slugs back a shot of vodka, no, gin, and licks his lips. The green bean tells the bartender to send a drink to the end of the bar for a creamy iris root. The green bean sidles up to the iris and he shivers at her frosty demeanor. At first, she's cold as the grave. But a few sips and card tricks later, the green bean and the iris root are intertwined in a lovelock spurting candy coated velvet violets.
The Unicorn Spell
The Unicorn Spell is one of the strangest perfumes I have ever smelled. Stranger still, this magical beast is the work of Isabelle Doyen, the talented nose behind a host of patently pretty Annick Goutal perfumes. I have long admired Doyen's work at Annick Goutal. None of what I have enjoyed with Songes and Mandragore could have prepared me for the three creations for Les Nez: The Unicorn Spell, Let Me Play the Lion, and L'Antimatiere. All three are utterly unconventional.

The Unicorn Spell jolted me out of my olfactory torpor. At first, I found it disturbing the way the scent of frosted leaves smelled of decay, difficult like a green bean or a green bell pepper. Yet, The Unicorn Spell etched itself on my brain with its uniqueness. Repeated tests unfurled a frozen autumnal berry tartness and a distinct scent of upturned roots. Snow glistened on the scent's surface as it melted on my skin. The green notes are not fresh but both cold and dark, like leaves that have suffered an early frost. A hint of cream and powder in the body allows the scent to settle into the sweet floral warmth of violets that inevitably fades into a haunting breath of a half forgotten daydream. The scent is magical, but like a unicorn it can't be held in captivity for long. The more I wear The Unicorn Spell the more curious I become to unravel its mystery.

The Unicorn Spell is available on Les Nez website.

Image Credit: Two fragments of a lost tapestry from the Unicorn Tapestries, ca. 1495–1505 from The Metropolitan Museum of Art