Satan

That it my Master pleased to show to me The creature who once had the beauteous semblance, He from before me moved and made me stop, Saying: “Behold Dis, and behold the place Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself.” How frozen I became and powerless then, Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not, Because all language would be insufficient. I did not die, and I alive remained not; Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit, What I became, being of both deprived. The Emperor of the kingdom dolorous From his mid-breast forth issued from the ice;

The coldness which defines the center of hell and in which Satan is trapped. You might get the idea that the coldness radiates from him and his pitilessness. When Fabienne composed this perfume, she wrote in the margins of her notes “The tears of the damned, bottled”. It is cold stuff. The coldest strongest clear musk and heavy oakmoss for black depth, with a sharp fern, and white oude. Classic, dry, sharp, strong, and attention-grabbing. Sexy as, well, hell!