Described as:
A blend of sparkling citrus scents drifting on warm musk.
SMELLS LIKE standing out in front of your house, freezing in your PJs, shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of your home-for-the-holidays family watching your dad prance across the rooftop, an extension chord in each hand, after a full, frustrating day up there spent covering the roof in wires and curse words, because he’s not an electrician, and he’s not an engineer, he’s not even particularly handy, he’s just a family man with an attic full of festive lights and a whole crowd of neighbors and relatives down below cheering him on, and right at the moment where you start to go numb below the knee, your dad plugs the last plug into the last socket and your house stops being a house and becomes a brilliant, blinking miracle at the end of the street and your dad smiles down, brighter than how all that glow LOOKS.