Antique glass bottles and pears on a worn wooden bench, lit from one side against a near-black wall

Eleven materials · One copper still

Nothing here is named after a feeling.

Eleven raw materials, four compositions, and a number where the name would go. Rested six weeks in the dark — bottled the week you order.

The index

Numbered, never named.

Every composition is filed under the material that carries it, because that is exactly what it is. No pyramid, no season, no limited edition.

Point at a number

Golden tree sap running in long threads down dark rough bark, the resin glowing against the wood

The other six materials are not photographed. They stay in the dark, where they belong.

The compositions

Four compositions, numbered in the order they were first built. Each is filed under the material that leads it, blended from the same eleven, and never reformulated quietly.

Nº IV is not always available. That is not a marketing device.

A row of amber apothecary jars in front of warm out-of-focus candle light

Nº IResin
7 of 11
The first composition, and still the slowest to make — the resin alone waits nine months.
Nº IIWood
5 of 11
Built around fourteen hours of smoke and steam. The quietest bottle in the room.
Nº IIICitrus
6 of 11
Dated on the label and sold young, because peel does not wait for anyone.
Nº IVFlower
8 of 11
Two weeks of harvest a year decide how many bottles there will be. Some years, few.

A single amber glass bottle with a copper atomizer cap standing on stacked stones against a black backdrop

The vessel

Filled the week you order.

No shelf of stock. A composition is built from the eleven materials, rested a full six weeks, then poured against the order. There is a wait — and the wait is the product.

Raw materials: 11
Rest: 6 weeks
Bottled: On order

The bottle on screen is not a photograph. It is glass ray-marched in a fragment shader — and it turns at the pace you read.

A hammered copper still on a brick hearth, its spout over a polished copper bowl, everything glowing amber

The still

One still. One material at a time.

A single copper alembic on the floor above, run one material at a time. A week spent on wood is a week spent on nothing else.

Engraved metal spoons holding resins and ground spice, scattered across near-black scorched wood

The sourcing

Bought from people we can name.

Five of the eleven are distilled on the floor above. The rest arrive as raw material — tears, peel, root — from growers the house has visited, and will name if you ask.

Distilled in house: 5 of 11
Bought as: Raw, never as oil
Origins: Named on request

The wait

Six weeks in the dark.

A blend made this morning smells like its parts. Six weeks later it smells like one thing. The chemistry is unremarkable — the patience is the product.

A golden thread of liquid falling through three suspended spoons against jet black

01
Build
Weighed to the tenth of a gram, against a written formula — never from memory.
02
Rest
Six weeks in the dark at room temperature. Nobody touches it.
03
Filter
Chilled and filtered exactly once. Some colour goes; nothing of the scent does.
04
Fill
Bottled, dated, numbered. The date is on the label — because it matters.

A still-life tableau of pears, figs, pecans, a brass vase and black vessels on a dark cloth

We would rather you bought less of something you were sure about.

You are not required to find one perfume and wear it for a decade. Materials behave differently on different skin and in different weather — a house that tells you otherwise is selling loyalty, not a smell.

ELEVEN — The practice

The visit

Begin with the raw materials.

A first session is the eleven materials, one at a time, in the order they are usually built. Nothing is blended, nothing is sold — most guests leave empty-handed, and that is as it should be.

Session: 45 min
Hours: Wed – Sat · 10:00 – 18:00
Bench: Four seats, by appointment

Request a seat

We answer within one working day.

An engraved copper incense burner releasing one slow ribbon of smoke against an umber-black ground