Full-size bottle
· 6 products left
$155
3.4 oz
Room 1015 - Blomma Cult
Blomma Cult is a scented sex symbol from the glory days of the Free Love era, with vanilla and cinnamon liberating sweet, demure violets in a sensual revolution. Smooth, silky cashmeran, rough, spiky patchouli and skin-soft musk slyly offer a world of brand-new temptations.
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Featured notes
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Fragrance family
Woody
Rich, textured and warm - these scents evoke assertive sensuality and confidence. Scents in this family are focused around the beautiful harmony between creamy, sensual woods and delicate floral tones, blended with hints of sweetness and amber resin.
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Here's how others described
the scent
the scent
The Scentbird community has spoken, and this is how reviewers categorized this scent.
- Warm36%
- Strong26%
- Powdery18%
- Sweet9%
- Fresh5%
- Light3%
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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348 reviews
Here's what our customers had to say about this product.
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- NGNANCY G.01/09/2024Reviews 9Products received 0The worstBy far the worst smell ever.01
- HVHarley V.11/07/2023Reviews 1Products received 0Not for meSmelled to old lady for me didn’t pick the scent it was just sent sadly a waste for me personally00
- CBCathryn B.10/08/2023Reviews 11Products received 0I’d Drink This Flavor Aid Any Day!I’m not sure if I’d stay in the Blomma Cult all the way until it’s time for purple shrouds and Nike Decades, but I definitely would strongly consider infecting local salad bars with dangerous pathogens for it. If you get those references, you know that what I’m saying is, this is another winner from Room 1015. The spicy cinnamon notes take a while to settle into the florals, but once it’s there it feels like magic. Powdery fragrances usually aren’t complex enough for me, but this is a significant exception: it feels both feral and innocent, and while I’m not sure it really makes me think of the kind of hippies who crowded into the Haight-Ashbury, it does give me a kind of Laurel Canyon, tripping with The Mamas and the Papas kind of vibe. Unfortunately this fragrance doesn’t really last, otherwise it would almost certainly become a staple in my rotation.My ratingsSpicyMysteriousDate NightSummerPowderyEasy-going70
- LWLillian W.10/03/2023Reviews 6Products received 0Amazing scentSmells like a crystal shop. 10/10My ratingsSpicyMysteriousDate NightFallStrongIntense20
- KNKaitlyn N.09/26/2023Reviews 2Products received 0We don't love itA little overpowering. The spicy notes kind of come off a little grandma's closet. It's better after the scent has settled a bit, but we didn't love it.00
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Room 1015
Blomma Cult
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.