NKDAPE is a quiet approach to fragrance designed to unfold slowly, wear closely, and return again and again. Our perfumes are available in refillable formats, a small gesture toward sustainability and the rituals we choose to keep. At the heart of it all is a belief that scent isn’t just worn—it’s lived with.
A fragrance that doesn’t announce itself, but rather appears—like a shadow of warmth caught on the air. Amber Alchemist drapes the skin in a veil of golden spice and soft woods, its heart pulsing gently with rose and lavender, softened into near-translucence. There’s no weight, no density—just the slow, elegant unfolding of warmth: pink pepper flickering at the surface, ambergris and patchouli glowing beneath. It lingers like memory rather than scent—a whispered presence, felt before it’s known. Smooth, eloquent, and magnetic in its restraint.
A radiant burst of yuzu and orange blossom opens Beachbody with the brilliance of sunlight on water. Sage drifts quietly beneath, dry and green, while the salt of the sea clings to warm skin, mingling with the grainy scent of sun-baked sand. The air feels alive with movement—herbal and sunlit, stirred by a coastal wind. There’s a calm clarity to it, like standing at the edge of the ocean with time slowed to a hush. Beachbody doesn’t declare itself; it surrounds you like atmosphere—weightless, windswept, and luminous.
Botanique is a sunlit breeze woven from citrus peel, wild herbs, and waves of salt-kissed air. It opens with the crisp bitterness of bergamot and crushed green leaves—vivid and dry, like the scent of a Mediterranean hillside waking under the morning sun. Eucalyptus and osmanthus bring clarity, softened by a hush of jasmine and marine drift. There’s no drama here—just quiet brightness, green freshness, and a breeze that carries the soul elsewhere. Like walking barefoot through a garden by the sea.
Calypso opens like light through a citrus grove—lemon zest flickering over ginger root and a breath of orange blossom. It carries the stillness of steeped black tea, softened by a drift of warm spice and the mineral clarity of Ambroxan. There’s something almost translucent about it, like the surface of water touched by sun. Not quite aquatic, not quite aromatic, but somewhere in between—cool, fluid, and quietly radiant. A fragrance that moves like melody, unfolding in gentle waves of clarity and warmth.
Carousel drifts like sugared tulle in the breeze—airy, nostalgic, and softly sweet. Bitter almond and vanilla melt together into a delicate marzipan cream, while anise offers a mischievous glint, sharpening the edges just enough to intrigue. A trace of rhubarb and iris adds pastel brightness, giving the scent its spun-sugar clarity. It wears like a powdered confection remembered from childhood—delicate, dreamy, and quietly joyful, as if caught inside a porcelain music box that never stops turning.
Cherise opens like a burst of bright laughter—strawberries soaked in tangerine sparkle over a fizz of prosecco and sweet cherry glaze. But beneath the juicy shimmer, something more grounded emerges: a sheer thread of patchouli, clean and dry, guiding the scent as florals begin to soften its edges. A rose in the distance, violet like velvet, sweetness turning more sophisticated with time. It wears like a celebration just beginning to wind down—syrupy traces of dessert, pink lips on glass, and the shimmer of something mischievous in the air.
Discoteque hums with warmth from the first spray—orange blossom and bourbon vanilla rising in a haze of golden spice. Cinnamon flickers beneath a surface of creamy hazelnut, soft and slow like the glow of late-night amber lights. It feels textured, plush, and just sweet enough, as though sugar had been folded into silk. There’s a rhythmic quality to it: warmth and sweetness moving in sync, a softness that clings like memory. A fragrance that lingers not loudly, but deeply—comfort dressed in velvet.
Gilded Nomad moves like sunlight over skin—smooth, luminous, and gently radiant. A soft citrus glow opens the scent, softened by neroli and coconut cream, as jasmine and violet drift into focus like silk scarves fluttering in warm air. The base is dry and rooted, a quiet hum of vetiver that grounds the brightness without ever dimming it. There’s an effortless elegance here, like the scent of warm skin touched by ocean wind—both worldly and weightless, as if carried across landscapes on a golden breeze.
Happy Hour opens with a crisp shimmer—apple and quince kissed with bergamot, like the first sip of something bright and chilled. Then warmth begins to unfurl: a slow swirl of spiced rum, golden caramel, and the quiet heat of cardamom rising from the glass. It’s a fragrance with contrast—fresh on top, indulgent beneath—settling into a soft, boozy haze with the sweetness of laughter in the air. Smooth, glowing, and just a little intoxicating, it lingers like a shared secret as the light begins to fade.
Honeytrap glows like warm gold poured over skin—honey rich but never heavy, laced with the spice of cinnamon and the softness of lavender in bloom. A flicker of licorice winds through the heart, cool and dark against the warmth, while cashmeran and tonka lend a quiet hum beneath it all. This is not a sugar rush—it’s the sweetness of skin after heat, of warmth lingering on fabric, of something whispered close but never said aloud. Smooth, bold, and irresistibly magnetic, Honeytrap doesn’t shout—it smolders.
In Essence opens with the subtle sting of cardamom and citrus, like a breeze passing through cracked windows on a quiet morning. Then it exhales—powdered iris, ambrette, and dry woods soften into a cloud of warmth, calm, and effortless poise. Sandalwood lingers like skin warmed by the sun, and vetiver hums just below, grounding the lightness without anchoring it. There’s no drama here, only presence: soft, steady, and sure, like the hush of linen, the stillness after exhale, or the first light over a sleeping city.
Indigo unfolds like dusk across the skin—soft, hushed, and quietly magnetic. Fig leads the way, ripe and shadowed, wrapped in a spiced swirl of cardamom and the calm steep of black tea. As it settles, a gentle trace of iris floats to the surface, powder-light and cool, before giving way to creamy sandalwood and the earthbound hum of vetiver. There’s a serenity in its structure, like the still moment before evening deepens, when the air feels heavier, and everything slows. Indigo doesn’t reveal everything at once—it lingers, it considers, and it stays.
Minimalist doesn’t wear like perfume—it wears like skin at rest. A gentle sparkle of pink pepper rises at first, then dissolves into a soft-focus haze of musk, cedar, and powdered iris. There’s a kind of quiet confidence in its restraint—like the feeling of slipping into freshly laundered linen, or the warmth of skin just after the sun. Clean, serene, and close to the body, it lingers not as a statement, but as a signature—something known without needing to be seen.
Soul Tonic opens with a flicker of citrus and cardamom—cool and bright, like morning light over quiet woods. A breath of green tea rises through the heart, softened by jasmine and hedione, unfolding like the scent of skin after water. The impression is crisp and effortless, but not flat—juniper and cypress bring a dry clarity, while a tender warmth builds in the background. There’s movement here, like leaves shifting in light. A scent of inner balance: vibrant, weightless, and quietly grounded.
Vanilla Dunes opens with a shimmer of citrus and a curl of spiced rum, rising like heat from golden sand. Bourbon vanilla flows at its core—rich and round, yet never heavy—tempered by dark cacao and the soft grain of sandalwood. As it settles, amber glows from beneath, casting everything in warm light. There’s a quiet sensuality in its movement, the kind that lingers close to the skin, like the echo of laughter on warm fabric. A fragrance of texture, light, and the comfort of sunlit indulgence.
