Space Fluid Moon Coat

An old leather coat keeps the record of whoever wears it.

It builds up in layers, holding the places, the people, the passion and whatever went into the pockets. One pocket has marzipan in it. The other has a bottle of wine.

The oldest layer belongs to the ferment of the nineties. Smoke hangs in a rock club. There is roasted coffee and cognac, a first love, skin touched with osmanthus, and dawn by the river under the lindens. There is the city by moonlight, a musty café, caramel and the dust backstage at a theatre, then dry suede against the damp of the river.

The punk now runs a global company, and otherness has ripened into strength. Raw patchouli has been polished into the elegance of ambrette. Petitgrain is fresh and neroli smooth, and a magnolia blooms in a wild garden grown over with moss. Sometimes the time comes to change the coat. The old ideals keep shining through, like the moon through the dark of night. Suede, amber, moss.

Space Fluid is the work of Marketa Maf, a writer and visual artist based in Prague and New York whose two award-winning books carry physics and biology into fiction. Self-taught and trained in London and Grasse, Maf carries every release from idea to formula to a hand-filled bottle, and the fragrances are blended by hand in Prague.

The house reaches for scents daily life has lost: hay, clay, rain, horse fur, fresh flour, apple cellars. Precious absolutes such as archival sandalwood and wild jungle oud are chosen over synthetic substitutes, and the alcohol is food grade. Each release is written as a story of time and memory.