A very 1950s scent makes its entrance, incognita and self-confident. What’s more, its thrilling irreverence makes the chest rise – as it catches breath, picks up the scent of danger, the sensual depths: here is where the perfume’s mesh operates. The body lowers its guard, seems to surrender to avoid being ensnared in the intermingled sandalwood, rum, almond and coffee – and a dash of cyanide that, from the thermal waters of Baden-Baden to Kilian, seals a pact with the devil. Death lurking in its ambiguous darknesses, staved off, kept waiting. Captivate, the better to release.