No more love

Under the moon’s pale glow she dances alone. Silk sleeves drift like whispers, her eyes downcast yet burning with secrets. This is no performance for joy or for love. It is an elegy carved in motion, a ritual to bury tenderness that once lived in her heart. She is the masked dancer, the veiled soul of No More Love.

The fragrance opens with the sharp heat of cumin and caraway, like the restless breath of a body in motion. Blue chamomile cools the fire, a moonlit veil that softens her anguish. Yet she smiles, though the smile tells nothing of her heart. For her mask is not carved of gold or lacquer, but of cosmetics: lipstick the color of wounds, powders fine as dust. Behind them, no one knows what she mourns, what she fears, or what she hides.

In the heart blooms a garland of intoxicating flowers. Jasmine sambac and tuberose sway with narcotic sweetness, while orange blossom recalls innocence long lost. Champaca and frangipani shimmer fragile and exotic, as though each petal clings desperately to the memory of a vanished embrace. Beauty here is not a gift, but a cover. When the mask of flowers grows heavy, who can see the grief beneath?

The base lingers like an empty dressing room after the applause has faded. Lipstick and cosmetic powder trace the illusion of her presence, a face perfected yet untouchable. Musk hums steady, the rhythm of a body that moves though the spirit longs for rest.

But then, in the wings, shadows stir. Little Batzy and See-Ew step forward, their laughter breaking through the silence. Batzy with his playful fangs and tomato-stained grin, See-Ew with her sly sparkle that hides no sadness now. They take her hands and lead her away from the stage, away from the heavy mask of powder and petals.

Together they wander into the neon carnival of Spooky Punk, where shadows dance with light and sorrow melts into mischief. The air crackles with irreverent joy, a world of fangs and glitter, secrets and laughter. Here her smile is no longer painted, but real.

No More Love becomes not a farewell, but a beginning. A fragrance that moves from solitude into camaraderie, from veiled sorrow into strange delight. To wear it is to walk beside her, Batzy, and See-Ew into the wild night, where masks are cast aside and every heartbeat is part of the music of freedom.

Top : Cumin, Caraway, Blue Chamomile
Middle : Jasmine Sambac, Tuberose, Orange Blossom, Champaca, Frangipani
Base : Lipstick Accord, Cosmetic Powder Accord, Musk