Inspiration

A perfumed translation of Pushkin's tragic masterpiece, where the scent of imperial St. Petersburg's ballrooms collides with the bitter desperation of a gambler's final hand. This fragrance captures the novel's duality - the powdered elegance of 19th century aristocracy masking feverish obsession, like a silk glove concealing trembling fingers.


Scent Profile

The opening plays its winning card with bergamot's golden aristocracy, Sicilian lemon's sharp wit, and Bulgarian rose's romantic flourish - the perfect façade. The heart reveals the stakes: iris powder falls like scattered playing cards, incense swirls like gambling den smoke, coriander adds spicy tension, nutmeg whispers intoxication, and cedarwood stands rigid as a Winter Palace guard. The base deals the final hand - musk's animalic sweat, vanilla's false comfort, sandalwood's fading nobility, and patchouli's fungal decay - the scent of ruin masked by perfume.