Targhee Forest

Woody. Mossy. Amber. The untamed Idaho wilderness dressed in black tie.

At first light, the pines exhale. You can smell it before you see it; resin warmed by the first touch of sun, a sweet, musk-like veil that hangs above the forest floor. The soil is damp, cool, and alive. Sagebrush on the nearby hills releases its silvery, herbal shimmer, carried on the morning air like an old secret.

Step deeper and the air changes. Trees stand in solemn ranks, rooted in lush moss, breathing in time with juniper berry, amber, and a whisper of citrus. This is not the “forest” you find in a standard perfume accord. This is the forest itself, translated into fragrance with the precision of haute parfumerie. The fir balsam had to be bright and sweet, the juniper warm without too much sharpness, the oakmoss velvety and green. When those materials aren’t right, they wait because nothing less will do.

Targhee Forest wears like a classic French masculine. Think 1970s Paris, the elegance of black tie — yet its soul remains raw, green, and untamed. It’s Idaho wilderness in evening wear, at home in a wood-paneled parlor or at a night out at the opera in a bustling metropolis.

I created Targhee Forest because I needed it. As an artisan perfumer and a father of two spirited boys, my days are often confined, my thoughts crowded. Some mornings I leave the studio and drive straight to the Caribou–Targhee National Forest. The silence there is different, it's not an absence of noise but a presence. A primal calm that cuts through life’s static as if it had never begun.

Targhee Forest is that silence, that duality — wildness refined — bottled for the moments when you can’t get away, but wish you could.