Full-size bottle, $145 retail value
· 40 products left
$100
1.7 oz
Room 1015 - Atramental
Your tattoos tell your story, your dreams and your protests… Your skin is clean, but not blank. Eau de Cologne does not erase black water. In a strum, BERGAMOT succumbs to BLACK PEPPER. CISTUS excites the top notes. CARDAMOM and an AQUEOUS NOTE float away and indelible ink warms the skin with SAFFRON notes that stay. RESINS and SUDERAL bleed over the heart. CASTOREUM structures the skeleton, deeply imprinting it with its animal fascination. A tribal scent, a mental decal. "The idea behind ATRAMENTAL was to create a perfume inspired by the tattoo experience with notes of leather and ink. A fragrance with a raw feel: Castoreum and smoked leather notes that remind the damaged skin, metallic notes as a reference to blood and notes of ink together with fresh and clean bergamot. So addictive…just like tattoos.” Dr. Mike
Vegan
Cruelty free
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Featured notes
Learn more about the top, middle, and bottom notes in this fragrance.
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Fragrance family
Fougere Fresh
The archetype of masculine grooming fragrances - fougere fresh compositions include notes of lavender, geranium, moss, and woods. Scents in this family are both fresh and clean, yet sensual and woody - making them incredibly versatile and ideal for a variety of occasions.
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the scent
The Scentbird community has spoken, and this is how reviewers categorized this scent.
- Strong54%
- Fresh17%
- Warm14%
- Powdery6%
- Sweet4%
- Light2%
About the brand
Explore Room 1015
Stop, rewind. A shiny black stretch limo with tinted windows and gleaming hubcaps pulls up to 8104 Sunset Boulevard. Sepia Polaroid, freeze frame. Time to wind back an old cassette with a pencil to a time when the Continental Hyatt Hotel, aka the “Riot House,” was the place to be.
The 70s was a decade of total delirium for any self-respecting rock group. And L.A. was an inevitable stop on the journey. Between concerts, there were three commandments in the Bible of Rock that all managers had to obey: a crowd of totally hysteric fans in the hotel lobby or, more often, in the darkness of an unmade bed, the tour rider to be followed religiously (24 pages about how to present the yogurt for Metallica) and the art of trashing a hotel room. A place of debauchery and nihilism.
Rumor has it that Holiday Inn rooms had an annoying reputation for being as boring as they were destructive to the soul. When you put wild animals in a cage and keep them in a confined space, it’s no surprise if they end up out of control. After all, they’re born to be wild. So, furniture goes flying, fire extinguishers start spraying, beds break and walls crack. When the California heat wilts the palm trees and burns rubber tires, rock ‘n’ roll turns the volume up to 11. There’s an uncontrollable urge to break everything, to turn everything upside-down.
The Riot House trembled on more than one occasion, but never fell down. In 1972, a TV flew out of Room 1015 and landed 10 floors below in a corner of the parking lot. Keith Richards and Bobby Keys – the Stones’ sax player at the time – didn’t think it worked very well. Q.E.D.
Not to mention the motorcycles in the hallways, the rooftop pool overflowing with bubbles, Jim Morrison dangling from a balcony, the epic battles of Keith Moon from The Who… Or, even more iconic, the Christ-like Robert Plant who took himself for a Golden God above the Sunset Trip with his angel’s hair, Nepalese bracelets and skimpy T-shirt, convinced that he had finally found the Stairway to Heaven.
The electric opiate years. No reason, no faith, no laws and definitely no taboos. Sexual liberation and universal love. But, above all, the metronome of an unprecedented creative explosion. Don’t forget that Lemmy Kilmister wrote the song “Motorhead” on a night off at the Riot House.
Today, Room 1015 remains a place of contemplation. The nostalgia of an era of absolute freedom, where the air still holds the lingering smells of sweat, leather, fur, alcohol, a burned patchouli leaf and an open flight case…
The Eagles sang “Hotel California,” with its supposed satanic undercurrents. There were certainly untamed demons in every hotel room from San Francisco to Las Vegas, from Hollywood to Venice Beach. But Room 1015 clearly outnumbered them all.
Learn moreThe 70s was a decade of total delirium for any self-respecting rock group. And L.A. was an inevitable stop on the journey. Between concerts, there were three commandments in the Bible of Rock that all managers had to obey: a crowd of totally hysteric fans in the hotel lobby or, more often, in the darkness of an unmade bed, the tour rider to be followed religiously (24 pages about how to present the yogurt for Metallica) and the art of trashing a hotel room. A place of debauchery and nihilism.
Rumor has it that Holiday Inn rooms had an annoying reputation for being as boring as they were destructive to the soul. When you put wild animals in a cage and keep them in a confined space, it’s no surprise if they end up out of control. After all, they’re born to be wild. So, furniture goes flying, fire extinguishers start spraying, beds break and walls crack. When the California heat wilts the palm trees and burns rubber tires, rock ‘n’ roll turns the volume up to 11. There’s an uncontrollable urge to break everything, to turn everything upside-down.
The Riot House trembled on more than one occasion, but never fell down. In 1972, a TV flew out of Room 1015 and landed 10 floors below in a corner of the parking lot. Keith Richards and Bobby Keys – the Stones’ sax player at the time – didn’t think it worked very well. Q.E.D.
Not to mention the motorcycles in the hallways, the rooftop pool overflowing with bubbles, Jim Morrison dangling from a balcony, the epic battles of Keith Moon from The Who… Or, even more iconic, the Christ-like Robert Plant who took himself for a Golden God above the Sunset Trip with his angel’s hair, Nepalese bracelets and skimpy T-shirt, convinced that he had finally found the Stairway to Heaven.
The electric opiate years. No reason, no faith, no laws and definitely no taboos. Sexual liberation and universal love. But, above all, the metronome of an unprecedented creative explosion. Don’t forget that Lemmy Kilmister wrote the song “Motorhead” on a night off at the Riot House.
Today, Room 1015 remains a place of contemplation. The nostalgia of an era of absolute freedom, where the air still holds the lingering smells of sweat, leather, fur, alcohol, a burned patchouli leaf and an open flight case…
The Eagles sang “Hotel California,” with its supposed satanic undercurrents. There were certainly untamed demons in every hotel room from San Francisco to Las Vegas, from Hollywood to Venice Beach. But Room 1015 clearly outnumbered them all.
Fragrances from Room 1015
In good company
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Defer to the crowd
200 reviews
Here's what our customers had to say about this product.
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- BSBRANDON S.12/21/2024Reviews 1Products received 0Its a No for me.Definitely didn’t like this one.00
- LOLena O.12/18/2024Reviews 3Products received 0UghI hated it. The lemon in it ruined in my opinion.My ratingsCitrusyCleanEverydayFallSweetEasy-going00
- KSKERRIE S.12/15/2024Reviews 10Products received 0Do not like itLoud and very musky!00
- MJMichael J.11/24/2024Reviews 7Products received 0Sharp and refinedThis scent is sharp and striking, a refined scent that has just a little hint of fruit. I can't well explain how I feel about this, but I do very much like it.My ratingsSpicyClassicDate NightFallIntense00
- JBJuda B.11/22/2024Reviews 5Products received 0Too strong, not the scent I'm looking for.Not sure how to phrase it, but this a scent that won't leave my nostrils, I end up able to taste it for hours.My ratingsSpicyDate NightSpringIntense00
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Room 1015
Atramental
scent world
featuring: Michael Partouche
Michael went from being a pharmacist by trade to being a
rocker by trade. He says the guitar was his salvation. At a
certain point he leaned into fragrance as a medium for
olfactive counterculture, a bridge between chemistry and art.
rocker by trade. He says the guitar was his salvation. At a
certain point he leaned into fragrance as a medium for
olfactive counterculture, a bridge between chemistry and art.