a world to
return to.
agaiiin makes fragrances you can go back to. not a scent for an occasion — a moment, kept. the doors aren’t open yet.
every fragrance is a compressed environment.
a mood, a time, a place, an element — and the scent that holds them together. we call that a moment.
you won’t pick a fragrance from us so much as a time you’d go back to. the colours are what it looks like; the scent is what it feels like to be there again.
five parts, written down.
here is one moment, a part at a time. watch the orb fill as it’s written.
mood · tender 
01the register you were in. serene, wild, tender, raw.
serenewildwarmstillrawtenderachefierce
time · dawn 
02the light you remember it by. dawn, noon, dusk, midnight.
dawnnoonduskmidnightgloamingfirst light
place · sea 
03where it happened. a shore, a room, a street, a garden.
forestsearoomgardenstreetshoreattic
element · petals 
04what it felt like on the skin. rain, silk, smoke, petals.
rainsmokesilkstonelinenemberpetals
scent · rose 
05the one that holds the other four together. never picked — it follows from them. the thing we bottle.
rose
say it slowly.
the extra i’s are the longing — again, drawn out.
the feeling of wanting to go back. that’s the name.
the order of things
we do things in a particular order. a moment can't be hurried, and neither can this. first we finish what we're making, slowly, properly. then the doors open — and the people waiting here hear first.
sixteen times worth going back to.
the first chapter, before it opens.
no plans 
white sand, a long walk back, sand in every pocket.
no plans 
a small house that glows from the inside once the sky goes blue.
no plans an hour of watching the light break on the water. that was the whole plan.
no plans 
the rocks were warm, the water wasn't. nobody checked the time.
love letters a field, a song nobody remembers and no reason to stop.
love letters 
the road home, the sun in the glass, everything gold for a minute.
love letters the light through the curtain did most of the talking.
love letters two of them, leaving together. you watched until you couldn't.
guilty pleasures 
a field that looked like dessert. you stayed until the light went.
guilty pleasures 
a room full of people singing slightly out of tune. you loved every second.
guilty pleasures 
pink on pink on pink. nobody said no.
guilty pleasures 
pearls on the frosting. a second slice, obviously.
bad decisions 
the toast that started it. nobody remembers what it was for.
bad decisions 
three flames, one story, retold worse each time.
bad decisions 
feet on the dash. the sun going down on the drive back.
bad decisions 
two silhouettes on a roof and a city that didn't need you anywhere.
the doors open soon.
leave an address and we’ll write when they do. nothing before, and nothing you didn’t ask for.