Les Fleurs du Mal was a collection of poems by Charles Beaudelaire filled with a sad and destructive romance. This is like a garden of black flowers on the verge of the first frost kept alive only by a bubble of falsely extended summer. Myrrh rose (not like the common tea rose at all) is leaning up against a bit of ripe apricot. There is a wiff of Possets jasmine to it all and a small amount of black petunia fighting the onrushing North wind. A bit of blue musk makes this all deeper, and a drop of galbanum. This is a slightly animalic blend and very sexy indeed.