Dirty Milk

Dirty Milk starts with a splash of creamy milk and gooey caramel, cut through by a flash
of black pepper. Sharp, hot, and just enough to make it dangerous. It’s the spark, the heat
before the dirtiness. Then it softens: buttery iris blends into warm akigalawood, like skin
meeting skin. The dry-down is slow and thick, with vanilla and musk sinking into the body
like cream left on warm skin. Rich, sweet, and just on the edge of decadence. Still sweet. Still dirty. Right on the edge.