Veiled in whispers and wrapped in silk, Mysteriousita glides into the world not with volume, but with gravity. It doesn’t shout for attention—it draws it in, like a secret shared across candlelight or the brush of fabric down a moonlit corridor.

Subtly inspired by Matsukita by Clive Christian—a fragrance born in 1892 for a Japanese princess whose grace stunned the opulent halls of Victorian London—Mysteriousita reawakens that legacy with a modern pulse. It is a fragrance for those who are not merely seen, but remembered.

The first impression is like stepping into a hidden courtyard at dawn: green bergamot glistens with dew, its citrusy brightness softened by the pink blush of freshly crushed peppercorns. A dusting of nutmeg lingers in the air—warm, golden, and just spicy enough to stir curiosity. It’s a breeze carrying the scent of forgotten letters and unopened rooms.

As the story unfolds, the heart reveals its quiet drama: smoky mate tea, brewed over embers, mingles with the soft floral drift of imperial Chinese jasmine. The aroma is both earthy and ethereal, as if steam rose through silk screens. Then comes jasmine sambac, lush and creamy like a midnight garden in full bloom—haunting, never cloying. Anchoring it all is guaiac wood, its smoky-woody note grounding the florals with a touch of ceremonial stillness—reminiscent of old libraries and sacred scrolls.

Then, the light fades. The base emerges like the final notes of a distant orchestra—lingering, resonant, unforgettable. Balsam fir seeps in with its green, resinous soul, blending into aged amber—honeyed and warm like light trapped in stone. Whispering musk hovers close to the skin, soft as a second skin or the echo of silk against bare shoulders. It leaves a trail not of perfume, but of presence.

Mysteriousita is not just a fragrance; it is an atmosphere—moody, layered, alive. It honors the Clive Christian original not by replication, but by reinterpretation—inviting a new generation into the dream. It is for those who walk between worlds, who prefer candlelight to spotlight, and who understand that true power often comes dressed in velvet, not armor.

Wear it when you don’t want to be followed—unless by memory.