The original East eau de parfum was a magnificent silk shawl from China, tenderly lifted from the wooden crate in which it had journeyed, richly scented with cedarwood and the patchouli leaves with which it had been packed to protect it from moths and other insects on the long sea voyage. The silken fragrance was sheer, feminine, slinky.
Over time, when wearing East I wanted more cedarwood, more of the mysterious wooden chest in which the shawl had traveled, and I yearned for the dry, raspy rustiness of the patchouli leaves, and the quintessential incense of the East, sweet, creamy sandalwood, lifting human spirits and dreams from the earth, transforming consciousness from ordinariness into deeply sublime states of stillness.
East is now much woodier, a more robust floriental with hints of ginger lily and jasmine sambac framed by several varieties of cedarwood (Moroccan, Atlas and Virginian), aged premium Sumatran patchouli and Mysore sandalwood. Far more unisex, longer-lasting and more grounded.