Victorian black widow
This fragrance makes an impression. The name, the bottle, the typography—all of it tells you this no perfume for a shrinking violet. Rather, this is a fragrance of a woman on a mission, on the edge, on her sixth husband. She's deadly.
An instant hit of booze and smoke gives way to a musky rose that never ever turns sweet or fruity. Acrid, suffocating, and yet very, very feminine.
Personally, I've dreamed of finding a harsh rose that stays powdery and doesn't give way an ebullient fruitiness. This is that rose. It's a burnt-black rose petal floating in a glass of scotch, neat. Not for the faint of heart.