Slumberhouse’s provided description (perfume poetry) describes Sadanne as, “Stained glass syrup, Serenades in damascone minor, Allegory obscured / pastel wound, A slurry of subtlety,” all of which jibes with our impressions of this rose-y beauty created by Josh Lobb. Sadanne drips, a forbidden fruit, pulsing and ripe, hidden in the heart of a fairytale forest. As Sadanne unfolds, so too do the stories it evokes. A child rushing through woods, their imagination lopes beside them; stories scatter, drop and take root behind our young visitor. Another picture: Frozen in the solitude of parapets and glass tombs, women’s love-wishes slip through enchantment-loosed lips, and float free on the wind, missives to a mournful admirer, far, far away. At last glance: An Art Nouveau chapel adorned with the twining figures silent and ethereal, bittersweet moans echoing softly in this forgotten jewel, though no one’s in sight.
Sadanne Slumberhouse is melancholy romance, the kind we dreamt of before we met the pains of adult heartbreak. While suggestions about its contents abound—strawberries straining medicine, roses ripened into wine, resinous ambers and forests combined—I’d suggest the particulars are beside the point. Lose your mind, return to an earlier time. In Sadanne your story is whatever you make it and tragedy and comedy are two sides of the same coin.