"I didn't kill because I was angry with them, not because I hated them - I killed because I wanted to keep them with me.”
Between 1978 and 1991, Jeffrey Dahmer murdered seventeen men.
He lured them with gentleness, drugged them, took their lives, then preserved them. Some he drew, others he photographed. He tried to keep them forever.
Jeffrey is the second chapter of Spiritica's Crime Collection. It is the smell of a damaged mind cracking apart, a world where reality and hallucination coexist. The extrait begins with accords of iced beer and poppers — cold, almost clinical. The heart opens like a wound that breathes: dirty carpet, carnation, coagulated blood, sweat, a sharp blade. The base is the sweetest confession: melted plastic, damp cellar, amber, vetiver. The cap’s flocked and laser-engraved finish reproduces the carpet of the killer’s apartment.
Jeffrey is a fragrance that grips the skin like a memory unwilling to die.
"I didn't kill because I was angry with them, not because I hated them - I killed because I wanted to keep them with me.”
Between 1978 and 1991, Jeffrey Dahmer murdered seventeen men.
He lured them with gentleness, drugged them, took their lives, then preserved them. Some he drew, others he photographed. He tried to keep them forever.
Jeffrey is the second chapter of Spiritica's Crime Collection. It is the smell of a damaged mind cracking apart, a world where reality and hallucination coexist. The extrait begins with accords of iced beer and poppers — cold, almost clinical. The heart opens like a wound that breathes: dirty carpet, carnation, coagulated blood, sweat, a sharp blade. The base is the sweetest confession: melted plastic, damp cellar, amber, vetiver. The cap’s flocked and laser-engraved finish reproduces the carpet of the killer’s apartment.
Jeffrey is a fragrance that grips the skin like a memory unwilling to die.