Dead of Night Set

Cool mint up top. Something darker below.

A one-two of spearmint and peppermint hits first, clean and bracing, the kind that snaps you awake. Buried underneath, notes of raw cacao, deep and a little bitter, the layer that gives this bar its weight.

Long hours, quiet crowd. Nobody out here complains.

People won't know why they're drifting your way.

Up top it's bright, with sharp citron and dark berries, tart at the edge. Underneath is where the trouble starts: jasmine and gardenia melt into musk and sandalwood, the part nobody walks away from.

You'll have the room. They won't know they gave it up.

Something just moved in the trees. Probably nothing.

This is the part of the night the daylight crowd never sees, where earthy patchouli and cedarwood rise up from the forest floor, dark and restless. A thread of sweet orange cuts through the shadow, the one warm light in all that darkness.

Stay out past the witching hour. You might like what finds you.