Like a Guy Bourdin advertisement for Charles Jourdan, Immacula is a narcotic flirtation with danger. Ionized steam blasts from a steam funnel over freshly paved asphalt, made seismic with zingy pomelo oil and candied ginger. Then an aching, full-bodied tuberose—the so-called ‘harlot’ of perfumery—throngs forth, before blooming into a slig