The Scent
A field in August, two hours after the mowing — when the air is still thick with what has just been lost.
Foin Coupé opens green and almost wet: bruised stems, the sweetness of sap drying in the sun. It is not pretty in the floral sense. It is the smell of work finished, of a barn door left open.
Underneath, vetiver holds the earth in place. Oakmoss gives it the cool of shade you walk into without thinking. Coumarin — the warm breath of cured hay itself — settles last, and stays close to the skin until evening.
It does not announce. It lingers, the way a place you once stood in does.
- Head
- Cut Stem, Green Sap
- Heart
- Hay, Coumarin, Clary Sage
- Base
- Vetiver, Oakmoss, Cedar
- Family
- Aromatic Fougère
- Lasting
- Seven to nine hours
The Object
Hand-blown, never twice the same.
Each flacon is shaped by hand in a small workshop in Nový Bor, a glass town in northern Bohemia where the kilns have not gone cold in three centuries. Slight variation in the wall — a faint wave in the glass — is left as it is. The collar is solid brass, raw, meant to dull with handling. The bottle is refillable, the carton uncoated and recyclable. Nothing on it is printed that does not need to be.
The Pressing
Three pressings. Three hundred bottles each. Numbered by hand. When they are gone, they are gone.