
A sketchy blend of semi-sweet, woody notes, anonymous resins (quite a bit of frankincense and labdanum although not much myrrh), and a massive dollop of what smells like industrial civet. The civet is cranked high and renders the scent awkwardly dry, pushing it into twig-like territories. This isn't a bad move as it underscores the earthy nature of the resins, but it renders the scent more acrid than rich. The standard-fare clatter of cold pine aldehyde is there, but it's tucked away and the civet serves to create a distraction of sorts. While these notes do blend together, I wouldn't say the result is appealing – Myrhhae is quite severe, dry, and dirty at first. Over time, the dryer materials dissipate, but what lingers is a mawkish woody amber that's neither unique nor particularly pleasant. Although myrrh is surprisingly tricky to get right as a featured note in perfume, Myrrhae's problem is that the myrrh isn't featured enough – the scent is more of a wide-sweeping, generalized resin bomb, but it's not a great one at all as it relies too much on predictable incense tricks. Dirty, dry, scratchy, with animalic and mop bucket-esque components, the price is great, but tread with caution if it's myrrh you're after as this smells more like musky floor cleaner than any myrrh I've ever smelled.