Post by Chairman Meow
By the time I tripped over my signature bottle of Narciso Rodriguez and plummeted headlong down the proverbial rabbit hole, Indult was already an extinct house, and Tihota had already joined the ranks of Bigfoot and Chupacabra in acquiring mythical status. It was blogged about in hushed, reverent tones, but blogged about infrequently (presumably because of said status) and I knew very little about it, aside from it being a Gold Standard Vanilla [Perfume Posse Best of Vanilla List].
Indult Tihota by Francis Kurkdijan 2006
Photo Stolen Fragrantica
Fragrantica gives the following accords in one line:
Indult themselves are no more helpful, their website providing us with the following enigma in Engrish that even Hello Kitty would be huppy with:
“When the skin is « sugar » under the Polynesian sun: it’s an exotic marriage of muscs in fusion and infusion with the sensual vanilla pods”
So when news came of Indult’s resurrection, what choice did I have other than to do the perfumista’s equivalent of pitching a tent and queuing all night for Bieber tickets? I signed up for a split of the first available bottle of Tihota. But before I tell you what Tihota is all about, please indulge me whilst I tell you what it is not:
It is not the sozzled, macerated fruit compote of Guerlain’s Spiritueuse Double Vanille.
It is not the incense smoked, clove studded orange pomander of Mona di Orio’s Vanille.
It is not the Cuban cigar laced with the fresh urine of herbivores, that is Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille.
It is not even the “straight up” vanilla touted by many.
Photo Stolen WikiMedia
Tihota is probably better described as a glamour shot of a vanilla, spray tanned in caramelised sugar and poised in front of a creme anglaise schmeared lens. From here, I wish I could offer you an intimate dissection of its various nuances, to describe, in licentious detail, the story of its top notes unfurling into a heart unfolding into a base, imploding into a crunchy tortilla shell, but it’s a pretty straightforward fragrance. The opening is the crack of the amber carapace of a creme brulee, with the first few seconds dominated a lightly burnt sugar, soon joined by a scrummy, velvety vanilla-flecked custard. And thus it remains, as immutable as an everlasting gobstopper, for hours.
Photo Stolen -Coral- Flickr
I will be the first to admit that I had been expecting a scent that was less literal an interpretation of a desert trolley and something more, shall we say, highbrow. But then I found myself wanting to gnaw at my hand in a slightly troubling, auto-cannibalistic fashion. I noticed that strangers, lips curled asunder, would sniff lustfully in my direction at the shops.
And I noticed that my decant was very quickly running out, and that I was day dreaming of a full bottle.
Have you tried Indult? Old or new? Are you interested?