There is a moment—just before dawn breaks—when the world holds its breath. The Calling lives in that moment: luminous, still, and softly magnetic. It’s an homage to the quietly exquisite Santal Calling by Ex Nihilo, reimagined with a reverence for its serene, skin-close sensuality.

The first impression is a whisper of nutmeg—warm, dry, and dusted like fine powder over cool skin. It’s not loud, but intimate, like a soft murmur in a quiet room. Then, something more tender unfolds: a silky heart of steamed milk and iris, blending the creamy with the ethereal. The milk is not sweet, but warm and enveloping—like hands around a porcelain cup—while iris drapes the senses in violet-grey velvet, delicate yet grounded.

And then comes the heart of it all: sandalwood. But not just any sandalwood—this one is soft, golden, and endless, like sun-warmed skin or the polished grain of sacred wood in a place untouched by time. Musk melts into it like breath, clean and pale, followed by a wisp of vanilla that doesn’t announce itself but lingers, like the memory of a lover’s shirt, worn and wrapped around your frame.

The Calling is less a perfume and more a mood—a veil of calm that clings to you like a second skin. It doesn’t seek attention; it keeps it. Milky, woody, softly spiced, and wholly enveloping, it smells like presence without noise, like elegance without effort, like longing distilled into vapor.

For those who understand that true intimacy is a quiet force, The Calling is your echo.