Arabian Oud Ghroob, Woody & Misty Wood

Posted on May 19, 2014 by Kafkaesque

The Saudi-based perfume house of Arabian Oud is one of the most prolific brands in the region, but few of their fragrances are talked about in the West other than the lovely amber oriental, Kalemat. Today, I thought I’d take a look at three of their other creations: the floriental oud perfume oil, Ghroob (sometimes spelled as “Ghoroob“); the dry, spiced, rose-saffron-oud scent called Woody; and the warm, spiced, heavily ambered oud fragrance, Misty Wood.

GHROOB:

Source: Amazon.

Ghroob caught my attention when I was in Paris last year and had the opportunity to visit the Arabian Oud store. The main reason was that I had never before (or since) encountered such a powerful, potent and highly concentrated blast of orange blossom. I have a weakness for the flower, which assailed me right from the start, but Ghroob’s prettiness really lies in its subsequent stages.

Ghroob is not a perfume that you spray but, rather, is a concentrated perfume oil that you dab. Fragrantica says that its perfume pyramid is as follows:

Top notes are agarwood (oud), saffron, cinnamon, orange blossom, thyme and marjoram;
middle notes are bulgarian rose, jasmine, gardenia, palmarosa and geranium;
base notes are sandalwood, white amber, musk and vanilla.

Source: Amazon

However, according to the very kind gentleman at Arabian Oud London, Ahmed Chowdhury, who sent me my sample, Ghroob’s notes are quite different:

Top notes: Oud, Saffron, Cinnamon, Orange blossom
Heart notes: Jasmine, Gardenia, Bulgarian rose
Base notes: Sandalwood, White amber, Cambodian Oud, Musk.

Ghroob opens on my skin with very sweet, syrupy orange blossom that is infused with a black, indolic dirtiness on top and a touch of leatheriness underneath. It feels a little bit smoky, and, for a few minutes, almost verges on the camphorous in the way that very indolic flowers can sometimes be. At the same time, however, there is also a certain piquant greenness underlying Ghroob that feels almost as if the perfume contained a good dose of neroli as well. Neroli is merely another form of orange blossoms, resulting from a different method of distillation, so the overlap is not surprising.

Photo: onewomanshands.blogspot.com

There are other elements woven in as well. The undercurrent of greenness is supplemented by flecks of creamy gardenia that somehow manages to be clean, fresh, indolic, lush, and narcotic, all at the same time. Initially, the note is just a tiny hint in the background, one that is often lost in the sea of extremely intense, highly sweetened orange blossoms, but, as you will see, it becomes much more significant later. The green gardenia is accompanied by the lightest touch of sweet jasmine. The whole thing is lightly dusted with saffron, along with clean musk.

“Fractal Orange Blossoms”
by wolfepaw on Deviantart.com. (Website link embedded within photo.)

It’s a very intense bouquet at first, one that may easily seem screeching if you’re not a fan of Middle Eastern attars or concentrated orange blossoms. The latter are flowers in full bloom, almost verging on over-ripe at times, with an intense, heady voluptuousness. Their initial sweetness could have been toned down for my personal tastes, but I really like how brightness and almost smoky blackness are somehow juxtaposed at the same time. The undercurrent of greenness also helps to keep the orange blossoms wavering just before the border of excessive syrup, without actually falling over it.

Ghroob’s concentrated richness initially feels quite heavy, but the perfume is actually airier and lighter in weight than what you’d expect, at least once the first hour passes. As with many attars, Ghroob doesn’t have monumental projection, no matter how much of an orange blossom, floriental bomb it might be. Initially, 2 small smears create a cloud that hovers about 3 inches above my skin, but the number starts to drop with every passing half-hour.

Poster by Asia Jensen at Barewalls.com.

Ghroob slowly shifts. After 30 minutes, the bitter, neroli-like green note increases, cutting even further through the sweetness, and amplifying both the brightness and the freshness of the orange blossoms. Ghroob is not a photo-realistic orange blossom scent because of the other floral notes, the saffron, and the sweetness, but I find it quite lovely.

What is interesting is the slow movement away from an indolic scent towards one that is greener, fresher, cleaner, and more balanced. At the end of the first hour, the oud rises from the base but it, too, feels quite clean. It smells primarily of a slightly singed, general woodiness, and doesn’t have any of the medicinal, earthy, musky tonalities that agarwood can sometimes manifest.

By the 90-minute mark, soft, slightly creamy warmth begins to coat the orange blossoms, as amber rises from the base. The indolic overtones are now gone, replaced by a surprising greenness, almost like the sap from freshly crushed leaf stems, and an increasingly prominent green gardenia note. Ghroob is now a softer, very fresh blend of orange blossom and gardenia, infused with greenness, woodiness, and a subtle cleanness, all lightly wrapped in a sheer cocoon of abstract amber. It hovers just above the skin, and the sillage stays there for almost 8 more hours to come.

The gardenia and greenness eventually fade away, and the start of the 4th hour heralds a Ghroob that is primarily clean orange blossom with ambered oud and a touch of clean musk. There is a certain synthetic sharpness running through the scent, which doesn’t make me happy but it’s subtle enough that I don’t think a lot of people will notice. Slowly, slowly, other elements appear as well. There is a tiny touch of vanilla that stirs in the base, while a subtle spiciness hovers like a ghost at the edges, almost out of sight. It is suggestive of sweetened cinnamon with a tiny pinch of dry saffron.

Photo: My own.

Ghroob remains largely unchanged throughout its drydown. It’s a blur of sweet, slightly golden, soft orange blossoms and clean, dry oud, with amber, abstract spices, oud, creaminess and an undercurrent of cleanness. In its final moments, almost 15.5 hours from the start, Ghroob is a faint trace of vaguely clean sweetness.

There aren’t really proper blog reviews out there for Ghroob that I could share with you for comparative purposes. However, there are a number of positive comments left about the scent in my prior review of Arabian Oud’s lovely amber scent, Kalemat. The one person who didn’t like it was a chap who hated gardenia, and that seemed to be the dominant flower on his skin, not the orange blossoms.

On Fragrantica, Ghroob has received 4 reviews, and all 4 are positive raves that call it “beautiful,” “gorgeous,” and “wonderful.” Many note that it is not a heavy fragrance at all, though I do not think you should mistake their comments to mean that the scent is light and mild. It is most certainly not. On Amazon — the main place where Ghroob is available in the U.S. and where it retails for $69 — the perfume has five 5-star reviews, all highly positive. Some of the comments:

The most beautiful Oud Oil.. I adore it ! [¶] It’s not heavy or enormous Oud at all, it’s more on the side of (soft spice oriental Oud), the orange blossoms here are so pretty and makes the scent younger & more wearable for all ages, developed with the elegant saffron note.

Deep and complex aroma and very beautiful. Definitely, very beautiful … mysterious. Just one drop lasts the whole day.

Complex and deep, but not overpowering. Little bit strange at the beginning, you just need to wait for a half hour for the beauty to appear. After that soft silage and cloud of delicious smell for all day long.

I purchased this based on one review I read and it exceeded all my expectations. It’s warm, spicy, delicate, breezy and exotic all at the same time. Just a breath of oud and a luscious blend of florals I didn’t even think I’d like. It’s the warmth of it that’s so intoxicating. A little goes a long way. I’ve been wearing this alone and mixed with mukhallats and even western perfume and its always perfection. I work with a pregnant chick who has had terrible bouts of morning sickness and can’t stomach even the scent of soap. She’s been following me around for days telling me how it’s the best stuff she ever smelled and the only thing tht doesn’t make her diZzy. As for longevity, my skin drinks up fragrance but this stuff lingers! My days are 8am til 10pm most days and I still smell it when I come home. People at work commented at how they know I’ve been on the elevator or in a certain hallway. All in a good way bc even though this stuff lasts, it’s not heady or cloying, just regal. I love it and can’t wait for my next bottle! Way to go arabian oud. I have killian oud, Tom ford galore and various others but this is the one I keep turning to. It’s only 25 ml but a little goes a long way and for this price, its a steal. [Emphasis to other names added by me.]

If you love intense orange blossoms and floral orientals, then Ghroob is definitely one for you to try.

WOODY:

Source: Amazon.

Woody is a very traditional Middle Eastern fragrance that is initially centered on the conventional saffron-rose-oud combination before eventually turning into a dry, lightly sweetened, woody fragrance with some ambered warmth.

According to Arabian Oud on its Amazon website, Woody’s notes are simple:

Aged oud, rose, patchouli, dry amber and musk.

Woody opens on my skin with saffron, rose, and oud, infused heavily with very jammy, fruited patchouli. The heavy saffron touch smells fiery, dusty, buttery, and nutty, all at once. By its side is the velvety, rich, blood-red, fruit-chouli rose. Trailing behind, and not quite as dominant, is the oud which smells clean, slightly peppery, and musky. If you want my honest opinion, it smells rather synthetic. On occasion, it also has an odd undertone that smells a little bit sour and stale, thought it is a very minor, mute, and subtle aspect amidst the musky, earthy, and dry tonalities. In fact, the oud often appears in this opening stage as a mere suggestion amidst the velvety syrup, thick roses, and spices.

As a whole, Woody opens as a very spicy, sweet but dry, slightly dusty, somewhat peppered fragrance dominated primarily by a very velvety, syrupy fruitchouli-rose with saffron, then by the oud in second place. I realise that it seems rather like a contradiction to present something as simultaneously very dry but also very syrupy and sweet, but that’s how Woody opens on my skin. The thick saffron-patchouli-rose trio is not only bifurcated by that synthetic oud but, also, by a strong streak of general woody dryness running through the fragrance. Neither one changes Woody’s main focus on the spiced, jammy roses, but the elements are definitely there in the background.

Saffron threads. Photo: Tim Whittaker. Source: gourmet-delights.com

There are other notes lurking about as well. It feels as though a strong heaping of cardamom has also been sprinkled on top of everything. In the base, there is a softly ambered warmth. The latter is never profound enough to turn Woody into a truly ambered scent, though it does try its best a little later on in the perfume’s development. As a whole, Woody is strong in scent but light in weight, and has soft sillage. Three small smears amounting to one good spray yielded a soft, airy cloud that hovered only 2 inches above my skin. That figure dropped even further by the end of the first hour, leaving quite a discreet fragrance.

Slowly, the woody elements grow much stronger and eventually take over the scent. At the end of the 3rd hour, the oud becomes very prominent, while the saffron is now more muted, and the spiciness turns rather amorphous. The jammy, patchouli rose retreats to the sidelines. Woody is primarily a spicy, woody, oud fragrance with abstract spiciness and only a suggestion of rose. It has a subtle streak of smokiness running through the wood on top, and a balsamic, leathery feel to the base below.

Woody continues to turn more abstract. At the start of the 6th hour, it is a dry, slightly smoky, slightly sweet oud fragrance upon a warm, vaguely ambered base. The spices feel generalized and abstract, though hints of the saffron appear on occasion. There is now only a lingering trace of the rose. In contrast, though, Woody’s aromachemical sharpness remains, most noticeably evident in the dryness of the oud.

Photo: my own.

Woody stays largely unchanged for the next few hours. In its final moments, the perfume is a nebulous blur of dry woodiness with a vague suggestion of something sweet and golden mixed in. All in all, Woody lasted just over 10.75 hours on my perfume-consuming skin with 3 small smears.

I’m afraid Woody did nothing for me, but that is primarily for reasons of personal taste. As regular readers know, I’m really not one for rose scents, let alone jammy roses supplemented by fruit-chouli. I’m also really quite tired of the patchouli-rose-saffron-oud combination. So, for those reasons, plus the synthetics, Woody isn’t my personal cup of tea.

However, I know it is one of Arabian Oud’s most popular creations, and the combination it celebrates is a very traditional one — both in the Middle East and in modern Western niche perfumery. Woody is not a bad scent at all, though it obviously cannot replicate the quality level or smoothness of something like Roja Dove‘s Amber Aoud. Then again, it is hundreds of dollars cheaper at roughly $109 for a 100 ml bottle.

Just to be clear, please don’t think I’m saying that the two perfumes are identical. They aren’t, neither in quality nor in terms of their overall progression and their essence. Despite the jammy roses and saffron in its opening, Woody’s main core is centered on dry, sweet woodiness with oud. But I have to say, I did think of the Roja Dove scent on occasion — both when I tested Woody now, and back when I tested both fragrances in Paris last year. Even then, I thought of Amber Oud when sniffing Woody, though the main reason is that they both celebrate a very common theme (saffron-rose-patchouli-oud) with heavy richness.

Source: wallpaper-source.com

Woody has received generally positive comments on Fragrantica. People don’t consider it to be a masterpiece, but, then, it’s much too traditional and simple to be that. Instead, the majority of the reviews consider it to be a solid, lovely rose-oud-woody fragrance that is approachable, easy, and unisex. Some comment on the clean nature of the oud; others note that the sillage is soft while the longevity is good. It’s the same story on Woody’s Amazon page where the perfume has four 5-star reviews, and two 4-star ones.

A few of the Fragrantica assessments:

I’m in love with this oriental luxurious perfume.

An evocation of exuberance.The seductive interplay of two powerful ingredients,one from opulence,the precious oud,and one from beauty,the may rose note releases its majestic seduction.it scent envelop the skin in distinctive notes.WOODY manages to evoke the orient without having too many notes.simply wonderful, beautiful notes,perfectly charismatic,very oriental and classy.

I am a little disappointed. Woody is a nice woody scent (what a surprise 😀 ) but not FB worthy. It is quite expensive, but the sillage and longevity are maximum average, if not below average.

This is powerful fragrance worthy of Tom ford line.
Oud and amber are heavy
Musk in the middle
Excellent sill age
Longevity is better on clothes, but still great on skin
Would give other oud based fragrance makers a run for their money. [Emphasis to brand name added by me.]

Woody costs roughly $109 for a large 100 ml bottle, so its price is quite moderate, in my opinion, and definitely low by the skewed standards of niche perfumery. So, if you’re interested in a Middle Eastern woody fragrance with clean oud and rich roses, then this may be one for you to consider.

MISTY WOOD:

Source: Amazon.

Misty Wood is a much more ambered, warm, golden take on the woody oud genre. According to Arabian Oud London, its perfume pyramid is a very simple one:

Top: oud, amber;
Heart: Musk;
Base: Saffron.

Misty Wood opens on my skin with rich, intense, deep, smooth, red-gold saffron, trailed by oud and amber. There is a definite rose note, even if it is not included in Arabian Oud’s list. In fact, I smell such a distinct rose note that I have to wonder if that list is really complete. On my skin, the flower is initially more like a pale, pink rose than the more traditional, jammy, red version. Eventually, 20 minutes later, it slowly segues into the latter with its velvety richness, but, even then, the rose is never as profound a presence in Misty Wood as it is in Woody. As for the oud, it smells clean, and a little bit synthetic, though again much less so than in Woody.

Painting by EbiEmporium on Redbubble.

Another difference is that Misty Woody is substantially less dry than Woody. There is only a subtle, small streak of lightly peppered dryness here, but it feels almost as if cedar has been used. The real key here is the saffron and amber. One of those notes conveys an earthy muskiness that has almost a meatiness underlying it at times. Lest that comment alarm you, don’t worry, it’s subtle, and feels more like a great depth and chewiness, if that makes any sense. I can’t figure out if the earthy muskiness stems from the amber, or if the saffron is the cause. I suspect the amber is actually ambergris (whether real or otherwise), but, whatever the source, it adds a profound richness and warmth to the overall scent.

What I’m less enthused about is the streak of clean, white musk that underlies Misty Wood. It’s not something that I like in any fragrance, and I can be quite sensitive to the note in high doses. Here, Misty Wood just hovers on the border of headache territory for me, but thankfully never quite tips over. That said, I still am not very keen on the soapy nuance underlying the musk’s cleanness. (Yes, white musk is one of the banes of my perfume existence. I wish the bloody thing would be banned or DIE!)

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

As a whole, Misty Wood’s opening bouquet is a mix of very rich saffron, wood dryness, earthy muskiness, sweetened roses, and clean musk, all wrapped up in a very ambered, warm base.

Slowly, the perfume changes. Roughly 75 minutes into Misty Wood’s evolution, the mysterious rose note weakens, while the amber and earthy muskiness grow in strength. By the end of the 2nd hour, Misty Wood is a spiced amber oud fragrance with sweet, earthy, musky undertones and a whisper of clean musk. The spiciness begins to turn much more abstract now, though lingering traces of actual saffron remain. At the same time, the rose note vanishes completely.

The middle of the 4th hour brings more changes. Suddenly, there is a beautiful wood note that is incredibly creamy and rich. Thanks to the other, accompanying elements, it is spiced, sweet, musky, and a little bit smoky — almost as if it were red-gold Mysore sandalwood. The spiciness no longer smells like saffron, but something that is fully amorphous and generalized. The best part, though is the delicious warmth and ambered goldenness that now dominates the scent. It conjures up images of salty caramel drizzled over creamy, spiced, musky oud wood.

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

Misty Wood remains that way for a few more hours, changing only in its small nuances. On occasion, the oud smells harsher, drier, and more synthetic to my nose, but it is quite subtle. Plus, I’m much more sensitive to synthetics than other people. For the most part, Misty Wood continues to be a spicy, ambered, musky, woody fragrance with an occasional touch of cleanness. In its final moments, the perfume is a mere trace of ambered sweetness with a slightly clean vibe.

All in all, Misty Wood lasted just over 13.75 hours with 3 decent smears, amounting to one big perfume spray. The sillage was initially good, and the perfume wafted about 3 inches above the skin in an airy, but rich, cloud. It took a while for the numbers to drop. About 3.5 hours into its development, Misty Wood hovered half an inch above the skin and remained there until the end of the 7th hour. The perfume felt very sheer and gauzy at that point, but it was still easy to detect if you brought your arm to your nose. As a whole, the perfume has excellent longevity but generally soft sillage. You could definitely wear Misty Wood to most workplaces if you applied only a small quantity.

I couldn’t find any reviews for Misty Wood. There is one comment on the perfume’s Fragrantica listing, but it is a mere question which asks what the perfume smells like. There are no reviews on Misty Wood’s Amazon page, either.

ALL IN ALL:

Orange Blossom. Photo: GardenPictures via Zuoda.net

As a whole, I like Ghroob and Misty Wood. I’m very underwhelmed by Woody, but that is undoubtedly the result of my general issues with roses and jammy, purple patchouli. Misty Wood was quite a surprise to me, as I didn’t expect to enjoy it quite as much as I did. The amber note is truly the best part of the fragrance. I’ve always liked Ghroob, but I definitely think it gets better after the opening 30-minutes or first hour with its very saturated, rather sweet bouquet. Again, I cannot stress enough how intense and concentrated those orange blossoms are initially. One friend of mine who really loves Ghroob called the flowers “screechy” in the first 10 minutes, before they turned “beautiful” and “soft,” so I would advise you to give the scent time to develop.

All three scents are available in America via Arabian Oud’s Amazon site, as you will see in the Details section below. Ghroob is the only one which is an actual perfume oil that you dab on, while the rest are all atomized eau de parfum sprays. Ghroob costs roughly $69 for a 25 ml bottle, but a little goes a long way given its very concentrated nature. The other two scents are 100 ml and retail for $109 and $119, respectively. Shipping is extra, but a lesser combined rate is available if you purchase two products from Arabian Oud.

One small section of Arabian Oud’s Paris boutique. Photo: my own.

For those of you outside the U.S., it’s not quite as easy to obtain the fragrances. If you live in London, Paris, or parts of the Middle East (especially Dubai and Saudi Arabia), there is the option of one of the Arabian Oud boutiques. The company has a U.K. website, though I doubt they ship outside the country. I’m afraid I have no idea about the shipping policies of Arabian Oud’s main, Saudi website. The reputable Kuwaiti retailer, Universal Fragrances, carries a number of Arabian Oud fragrances and ships worldwide for a low price. Unfortunately, they only carry Woody out of the three scents in this review. I’m afraid your best bet will be eBay, as there are quite a few sellers who offer both Arabian Oud products and international shipping, though I haven’t found any who sell Misty Wood at the time of this review.

All in all, if you’re looking to explore Middle Eastern perfumery, you may want to consider some offerings from Arabian Oud. They are solid, traditional fragrances with very clean oud notes, generally good longevity, and great richness for a moderate price.

Disclosure: My samples of Ghroob and Misty Wood were kindly provided by Arabian Oud in London. That did not influence this review. I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own. My sample of Woody was provided as a gift by a reader and friend.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Ghroob is a concentrated perfume oil or attar that is available in a 25 ml dab bottle on Amazon (U.S.) for $69.99. Woody is a sprayable eau de parfum that comes in a 100 ml size and is sold on Amazon for $109.99. Misty Wood is sold on Amazon for $119.99 for a 100 ml spray bottle of eau de parfum. Shipping costs for each one is $16.48, but I know from personal experience that Arabian Oud combines shipment if two items are purchased, with a lesser price for shipping the second item. Another option is to buy Arabian Oud fragrances from Zahras. They have an extensive catalog of the brand’s fragrances, and I believe they also sell samples if you contact them. However, if you’re looking through Zahras’ catalog, please be warned that a good number of their perfume notes and descriptions seem to be incorrect. They frequently don’t match what Arabian Oud lists themselves for the notes. Outside of Zahras, you can turn to some international eBay sellers, especially for smaller sizes of Ghroob. Outside the U.S.: In the U.K., the UK Arabian Oud site has both Ghroob, and Woody currently on sale for £35 each, down from £70. There is no individual page for each, so you’ll have to do a word search by name. (If you go to the website, you may want to immediately mute the volume as the site plays annoyingly repetitive music incredibly loudly.) If you’re located outside of the United States and the U.K., you can also find Arabian Oud on eBay. All the Ghroob entries on eBay are shown here, and run roughly around $99, which is higher than that on Amazon. Under the name Ghoroob, I found a few entries in small decant sizes, including 3 ml for around $30. WOODY: For Woody, I found the perfume sold for $85 from a UAE vendor who ships internationally. One vendor in Saudi Arabia listed as Zahras is currently selling Woody for $99, and also ships worldwide. Another vendor in Kuwait has an eBay store is called Jawimall and carries a few Arabian Oud fragrances, so you are reading this review months from now, you can check to see if he has either Ghroob or Woody in stock. In the Middle East, there is also the original, non-UK Arabian Oud website which sells Ghroob for (Saudi Riyal) 320 SAR which seems to come to a little over $85 at the current currency conversion rates. Woody costs 250 SAR. I believe they ship internationally. Elsewhere, Kuwait’s Universal Perfumes sells a large number of Arabian Oud products, and they ship globally for a very low rate, but they only carry Woody out of the three fragrances in this review. It costs $89.99. MISTY WOOD: Outside the U.S., the perfume is available on the Arabian Oud London website where it is on sale for £60, down from £120. There is no direct link to the perfume’s specific page, so you’ll have to do a manual search as usual. The perfume is also available on the company’s original Saudi website, and an affiliated Saudi site. In the UAE, the perfume is sold at a number of Arabian Oud stores, but also at Souq.com. I couldn’t find any other vendors, I’m afraid, and none on eBay at this time. Samples: The Perfumed Court has a listing for Mukhalat Ghoroob perfume oil, but the notes given are extremely different. Either way, the price starts at $8 for a 1/2 ml vial. Woody is also available, starting at $7.99 for a 1 ml vial. The site does not carry Misty Wood.

Reviews En Bref: Cuir Garamante & Cuir Venenum

Posted on May 18, 2014 by Kafkaesque

I thought I’d take a brief look at MDCI Parfums‘ Cuir Garamante and Parfumerie Generale‘s Cuir Venenum in today’s mini reviews. As always, my Reviews En Bref are for fragrances that — for whatever reason — didn’t seem to warrant one of my more detailed assessments. In the case of both of these perfumes, neither one was actually a “leather” fragrance on my skin, and both were extremely simple scents at their core.

MDCI PARFUMS CUIR GARAMANTE:

Source: Luckyscent.

Cuir Garamante is an eau de parfum that was released in 2013. According to Fragrantica, its notes includes:

pink pepper, nutmeg, saffron; rose, cyperus esculentus [cypriol], leather, vanilla, labdanum, incense and sandalwood.

Cuir Garamante is virtually identical to LM Parfums‘ Black Oud on my skin. To be precise, it mimics the first 6 hours of Black Oud in an unswerving line, with only minuscule differences in the amount of saffron and Norlimbanol that show up. In fact, Laurent Mazzone’s fragrance — released a year before — was the first thing that came to my mind when I tested Cuir Garamante, followed by Puredistance‘s 2013 BLACK which is also very similar to the opening phase of Black Oud. All three fragrances begin with an extremely spicy, dark, woody bouquet dominated by saffron, pink peppercorns, rose, syrupy purple fruit-chouli, woody notes, and smokiness. None of them are genuine leather fragrances on my skin, but center instead on an oud-like note, whether from cypriol, Norlimbanol, or some other woody-ambered aromachemical

Photo: My own.

The primary differences between the three fragrances involve the changing role of the rose note, the Norlimbanol, and the drydown. On my skin, Cuir Garamante is a largely linear scent that spends hours wafting a blend of spices, purple patchouli, fruitchouli-rose, oud, and dry, woody-amber, flecked with darkness and the subtle suggestion of some vaguely “leathery” undertone. At times, the latter feels drizzled with honey in a way that’s very appealing, and strongly reminiscent of both Black Oud and LM Parfums’ Hard Leather.

In its middle phase, starting roughly in the middle of the third hour, the Norlimbanol grows stronger, slowly overtaking the very jammy rose. At the same time, the other notes turn more abstract, particularly the saffron and spices. With every passing hour, the scent turns drier and the notes melt into each other. Cuir Garamante slowly turns into a simple woody-amber scent and, in its final moments, is nothing more thana blur of slightly sweet woodiness.

Source: hqwallbase.com

I did side-by-side tests of Cuir Garamante, Black Oud, and Puredistance’s Black, and all three fragrances are incredibly close in their opening stage. Cuir Garamante simply keeps that stage for several hours more than the other two fragrances. I think it has more Norlimbanol or cypriol than Black Oud, but significantly less rose and patchouli than Puredistance’s Black. The latter diverges the most in terms of the drydown, has the longest focus on the fruitchouli-rose note, and is the most aromachemical of the three on my skin. It is also the weakest in terms of projection and longevity. Of the three, Black Oud is the least synthetic, the smoothest, the most “black” in visual nature, and the most refined.

Photo: my own.

Yet, if you ignore the small differences in terms of the secondary notes or tiny fluctuations in the nuances, Cuir Garamante is essentially, by and large, identical to LM Parfums’ Black Oud on my skin. They have the same great longevity (well over 14 hours) and similar sillage, but they differ in terms of price. Black Oud costs $225 or €195 for a 100 ml bottle of what is essentially a pure parfum extrait. Cuir Garamante costs $250 for 75 ml of eau de parfum. (Puredistance Black costs almost $600 for a 100 ml extrait, and is definitely not worth the price, in my opinion.) As noted, I think Black Oud is a smoother, less synthetic, higher quality fragrance. I also think it is much less linear, if you consider the nuances. While all that comes down to a question of personal taste, the bottom line, though, is that there is such a substantial overlap between the fragrances that you only need one of them.

PARFUMERIE GENERALE CUIR VENENUM:

Source: Fragrantica

Cuir Venenum (or “PG03 Cuir Venenum“) is an eau de parfum that was released in 2004. Despite the “leather” part of its title, this is a fragrance that is largely centered around orange blossoms. In fact, Fragrantica categorizes Cuir Venenum as a “floral, woody musk,” which is quite accurate, in my opinion. The site says Cuir Venenum’s notes include:

lemon, orange blossom, coconut, leather, myrrh and musk.

Parfumerie Generale, however, lists only:

Orange Blossom, Leather , Cedar, Musk and Honey

Orange Blossom Syrup.

Cuir Venenum opens on my skin with extremely syrupy, extremely sweet orange blossoms, infused with a plastic vanilla note and such an intensely fruited element that it strongly resembles like fruit-chouli. Clean white musk and a tinge of coconut complete the picture. The whole thing is cloyingly sweet, but also smells like something that you’d find at Bath & Body Works, thanks to the perfume’s soapy, clean streak. None of that is a compliment. At niche prices, one expects a little more than a generic, sweet fruity-floral concoction with screeching orange blossoms, plastic-y undertones, soapy cleanness, and cheap white musk.

On my skin, there is not an iota of actual leather at any point in Cuir Venenum’s lifespan. Not one shred of it. Parfumerie Generale’s website says this about the leather note in the perfume:

Sombre, heady and opulent leather is generally an inevitable component of men’s perfumery. Reinterpreted, modernised – even feminised – it shows a new oriental and erotic facet that gives it depth and mystery.

Concord Grape Jam. Source: Tasty Yummies blog. (Link to website embedded within photo.)

Not on my skin. There is no leather — neither opulent, heady, modernised, feminised, refined, nor any other kind for that matter. Instead, there is what feels like a hell of a lot of purple, grape-y, fruit-chouli molasses that further amplifies the syrupy nature of the orange blossoms. The cause probably stems from the grape aspect of the orange blossoms’ naturally occurring methyl anthranilate, but I wish it had been toned down by several decibels.

Source: fantom-xp.com

The best thing that can be said for Cuir Venenum is that it eventually gets better — though it’s rather a relative matter, if you ask me. At the start of the 4th hour, a soft, golden warmth diffuses its way through the flowers, and softens the orange blossoms. It helps to muffle and tone down the reign of sickly fruitiness, even if it’s just by a hair. It also alleviates some of that revoltingly cheap white musk. I suspect it stems from the myrrh, though I don’t detect either its usual anise-like facets nor its incense, dusty ones. There is a muffled whisper of some vague nuttiness in the background, but it is very muted. What is more noticeable is a growing touch of waxy coconut that slowly starts to rise from the base.

Photo: my own.

In its drydown, Cuir Venenum finally turns creamy, soft, and less sweet. Roughly 6.5 hours into its development, a milky quality appears, thanks to the coconut. There is also a softness that almost feels like some vaguely clean, new suede — but not quite. It lacks the untouched, pristine cleanness or powderiness of some suede scents, many of which are recreated through iris. Here, the note is more akin to a soft, smooth suppleness with a certain creaminess underlying it. The fruited orange blossoms still lie over everything, but they are heavily muffled now and no longer drip with a cloying, almost gourmand sweetness. In its final hours, Cuir Venenum emits a vaguely clean milky softness that is almost suede-like and sprinkled with the mere suggestion of orange blossom.

All in all, Cuir Venenum lasted just a hair over 8.25 hours. The sillage was generally soft, projecting initially about 2 inches above the skin. It felt very gauzy, wispy, and lightweight, despite the gooeyiness of its dripping syrup. Cuir Venenum turned into a skin scent on me by the end of the 3rd hour, which I found to be rather a relief. I didn’t find any of it to be a sophisticated scent of luxurious quality, nor a hugely complex, morphing, twisting one, either.

Source: post-gazette.com

Cuir Venenum has received mixed reviews on Fragrantica, though the majority are negative. Usually, I don’t get into comparative assessments in my Reviews on Bref, but the horror and snark on Cuir Venenum are simply too good to pass up:

Smells bizarrely of rotting garbage, specifically of when people collect soda cans in garbage bags for recycling and you can smell the sugary soda fermenting and rotting. Do smell leather, too. Tried it again. My final verdict: a weathered drunkard sits down on a badly tanned leather sofa that’s been discarded on the sidewalk. He opens his quart of Mad Dog 20/20 and starts guzzling, spilling quite a bit down his front. He then passes out and pisses himself. This stuff smells like his crotch. Truly awful.

Stale malt liquor with addition of one marinated cigarette butt.

Grape snowball syrup squirted into a bowl with huge feet soaking in stanky wine and vinegar, and then placed into leather boots with no socks. Basically, it smells like a clown working in a leather tannery.

All I could smell was… cigarette smoke! No, it wasn’t tobacco; it was pure nicotine! Wearing Cuir Venenum feels like entering cold, empty smoking-room. It feels like standing next to someone who’s been smoking a pack of cigarettes a day for twenty years now and tries to kill their smoky smell with some kind of cheap perfume.

All in all, to me it is a smell of a dark, freshly draught beer with a slight cigarette undertone.

I actually thought that I was testing a mislabeled sample, so different was my perception from the official notes. Top notes of vinyl and acrid grape cough syrup, followed by a whiff of cow dung (possibly the “leather”?), all leading into a persistent candy-sweet-powder drydown of maligned orange blossom. Very synthetic in character. I dislike this on me and would find it abhorrent on a man.

Parmegiano Reggiano cheese. Source: maltatoday.com.mt

For Dr. Ellen Covey of Olympic Orchids perfumery, there was no rotting garbage, cow dung, beer, a man’s crotch, or stale cigarettes, but, instead, “parmesan cheese” mixed with grape candy, leading her to end her review with a question: “what were they thinking?”

One of the most bizarre openings I’ve smelled in a long time. The predominant – no, overpowering – note is artificial grape candy, accompanied by what I will tactfully refer to as parmesan cheese. There’s also a little civet skulking in the background. It’s an odd combination if ever there was one. Since orange blossom is listed in the notes, it’s possible that the accord was hugely overdosed with methyl anthranilate or some similar “grape” aromachemical.

I kept waiting for the grape and “parmesan” notes to make a graceful exit, but they refused. Instead, they just turned the intensity down a notch, or I slowly adapted to them. I could have scrubbed, but my morbid curiosity had kicked in, so I waited to see what else, if anything, this perfume had to deliver. Apparently there was nothing. After a few hours, all that was left was a light, sugary grape scent on my skin along with something vaguely musky.

“Venenum” is a Latin word meaning venom or poison. […] Cuir Venenum goes into the curio cabinet to serve as an example of a perfume that raises the unanswerable question, “What were they thinking?”

As you can see, a lot of people experienced a fragrance that was much worse than the banal, screeching, cheap Bath & Body Works fruity-floral that I encountered. In all fairness, however, there are people on Fragrantica who actually like Cuir Venenum and its orange blossom blast. They are not many, but they do exist. And some people even experience a leather scent, though few of the ones who do actually seem to like it. So, if you’re a huge fan of orange blossoms (and a glutton for punishment), I suppose you should check out Cuir Venenum. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky….

DETAILS:

CUIR GARAMANTE Cost & Availability: Cuir Garamante is an eau de parfum that comes in a 75 ml bottle called a “tasselled” bottle which costs $250 or €215, and a fancier bottle with a bust statue on it in the same 75 ml size for $375. There is also a Discovery Set. You can buy Cuir Garamante from the Parfums MDCI website, which also has an exclusive deal involving their discovery sets. Apparently, if you order either of 2 discovery set (set of 5 or set of 8), that amount is credited towards the purchase of a full bottle. In the U.S.: Cuir Garamante is available at Luckyscent, along with a Discovery Set of 8 different MDCI fragrances in a 12 ml size for $210. Regular sized samples are also available. Osswald also has both versions, but sells the basic bottle for $263, not $250. Outside the U.S.: you can purchase Cuir Garamante from Parfums MDCI, First in Fragrance and other retailers.

CUIR VENENUM Cost & Availability: Cuir Venenum is an eau de parfum that comes in a variety of sizes. Luckyscent sells the 50 ml bottle for $125. You can find the smaller 30 ml size for €62 on PG’s European website, as well as at Osswald NY in the U.S., and many other vendors. Samples of both fragrances are available from a wide variety of sources, including Surrender to Chance.

Reviews En Bref: Tola Misqaal & Masha

Posted on May 3, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Dhaher bin Daher of Tola. Source; Fragrantica.

Tola (sometimes written as “Tola Perfume“) is a new fragrance house from Dubai. It was founded in 2013 by Dhaher bin Dhaher, who is also the nose behind its creations. He is a self-taught perfumer who grew up around perfumes, and whose story is told in a detailed Fragrantica article about the line. The house’s name, “tola,” refers to an ancient Indian measurement unit which predates the metric system.

Tola’s line is centered around The Voyage Collection, which is comprised of six fragrances, each of which is available either in eau de parfum or pure parfum concentration. The fragrances have been available in Europe for a while, but only recently came to Luckyscent and Osswald in America. Today, I’ll look at Misqaal and Masha, both in eau de parfum form.

MISQAAL:

Misqaal. Source: Luckyscent.

The company’s description of Misqaal on various perfume sites reads as follows:

Misqaal eau de parfum is a fragrance for the enigmatic woman…At the crossroads of Europe and Asia, an artisan puts the finishing touches on his masterpiece: a perfume for her royal highness, an enigmatic woman who exudes equal amounts of charm and femininity with just a hint of danger. To retain the scent’s exceptionality, the artisan produces only one Misqaal (an ancient unit of measure reserved for gold and expensive spices), and this becomes the most coveted object in the palace…Misqaal was crafted by modern day artisans to recreate the essence of the fabled princess in this tale from the Orient.

Top notes: pineapple, plum, raspberry, grapefruit, mandarin orange, bergamot, lemon, pink pepper, nutmeg, star anise, coriander, honey and fir;
Middle notes: juniper, cinnamon, wormwood, geranium, heliotrope, lily-of-the-valley, jasmine, rose, orris, french orange flower and orchid;
Base notes: vetiver, sandalwood, patchouli, agarwood (oud), cypriol oil or nagarmotha, incense, labdanum, siam benzoin, tonka bean, vanilla, white musk, castoreum, leather and ambergris.

Source: Wallpaperscraft.com

I’ll be blunt: Misqaal traumatized me. I felt as if I’d been knocked over by a gigantic tank, squashing me under heavy treads of sweetness and fruity excess. I love rich heavy perfumes, but they need a refined touch, not a heavy hand that throws the kitchen sink at you. And, in case the long list of notes did not make it clear, the kitchen sink seems to be very much a part of the Tola DNA.

Misqaal on my skin was primarily a massive, heavy, unchanging, indiscriminate ooze of cloying, fruited sweetness. The first night I tried it, tiny spritzes equal to 2 small sprays from a proper bottle gave me actual stomach-churning nausea. At one point, I even hid my arm under my pillow in order to escape from the scent, hoping desperately that time would ameliorate the situation. Alas, there was no refuge, not for many hours. I was hit by wave after wave of heavy-handed, potent, super-charged excess, pulsating like a weapon at me. Even through the bloody pillow, it seemed. There are no words to describe the degree of my queasiness and dread.

Source: superbwallpapers.com

Misqaal’s opening bouquet assailed me with what seemed to be 40% of that massive note list, all at once, and all at super concentrated levels. In reality, it was primarily just shrill, shrieking orange blossom, sticky orange, heavy honey, and a synthetic, sharp, thin oud. It was hard to distinguish some of Misqaal’s layers because this is not a fragrance with nuance or subtlety. If I focused hard, I could just about pick out tiny hints of lily of the valley, jasmine, rose, raspberry and hints of sandalwood amplified with spices and incense. There was a suggestion of powderiness from tonka and heliotrope, but they were largely overwhelmed by the torrent of honeyed stickiness.

Orange blossoms via the Pattersonfoundation.org.

In any event, the muted, minimal nuances soon disappear, leaving a cloying ball of opaque, dense, painfully sweetened goo centered primarily on orange blossom, honey, orange and that synthetic oud. Misqaal remained that way for hours, turning into a skin scent after 6.5 hours with 3 tiny sprays from my atomizer, and after 4 hours with 2 small spritzes.

The amber rises to the surface at the start of the 4th hour, and the perfume turns more abstract. Misqaal is now an overly sweet, slightly synthetic fruity floral with ambered warmth, sticky honey, and vanilla. There is a custardy richness which becomes more apparent as time passes, but it’s genuinely difficult for me to smell Misqaal up close for too long lest my stomach turn. In its final moments, Misqaal is blur of fruity floral sweetness with vanilla and amber. All in all, it lasted roughly 14 hours.

Misqaal is linear, dense, cloying and heavy-handed, in my opinion. Middle Eastern fragrances are frequently very sweet, but excessive honeyed syrupness is not my only problem with the scent. I find it to lack finesse and elegance. However, people who love gourmand fruity-florals may enjoy it, particularly if they love both sticky oranges and orange blossoms.

MASHA:

Masha. Source: Luckyscent.

The company’s description of Masha on various perfume sites reads as follows:

Masha eau de parfum with its sensual allure, embodies feminine charisma… Complex, worldly intensely feminine. These words form the common thread that binds his poems togerther. She is a complete mystery and yet she dwells within his deepest thoughts. If he could weigh all he knows of her, it would be one Masha; a small unit reserved for measuring the most rare and precious things. Yet he yearns to know more, to know everything. Masha combines warm woody notes with the intriguing allure of chypre and the femininity of luxurious flowers to capture the very essence of the modern woman.

Top notes: peach, pineapple, plum, strawberry, raspberry, apple, grapefruit, orange, lemon, bergamot, lime, pink pepper, black pepper and birch;
Middle notes: artemisia, coffee, cardamom, cinnamon, clove, lily-of-the-valley, rose, orris, jasmine and magnolia;
Base notes: leather, agarwood (oud), vetiver, sandalwood, patchouli, cedar, olibanum, labdanum, civet, castoreum, tonka bean and vanilla.

I found Masha to be a little better than Misqaal, though it’s all relative. At least Masha didn’t push me to hide my arm under a thick pillow at one point. The fact that Masha isn’t loathsomely sweet is primarily the reason why, and not much else.

Source: 123rf.com

Masha presented a different set of difficulties. The perfume has 36 notes, and it felt as though at least 23 of them hit me at once. Oddly, one of the main things I smelled is not actually on the list: immortelle. For whatever reason, some combination of the notes recreated the smell of immortelle, but not its more pleasant aspect. Instead, I was hit with curry, banana leaf, and a touch of maple syrup-like sweetness. It was followed by a synthetic oud, a hefty amount of cardamom, then cloves, patchouli, incense, spices, pepper, abstract mixed fruits, herbal artemisia with a dill-like aroma, roses, hints of plum, vanilla, vetiver, fresh apple, and coffee. No, I’m not joking. Misqaal throws everything at you at once, then follows it up with several plates of food from an Indian restaurant as well.

Source: wallpaperswide.com

I’m a bit of a masochist, so I actually tested Masha twice. Interestingly, at a higher dose, there was a significantly greater amount of apple and coffee. Alas, the banana leaf curry reappeared yet again. This time, however, there were fewer fruits, less cloves, very little patchouli, no dill, no vetiver, and no rose. The primary focus in both versions however is the spices.

Source: atyabtabkha.3a2ilati.com

At the end of 3 hours, Masha consistently turns into a curried immortelle scent infused with synthetic oud, labdanum, amber, and cardamom. The apple and coffee are much more subtle now, thank God. Stirring in the base is a slightly powdered note, and a soft, ambered warmth that increasingly takes on a caramel tonality. I cannot tell you the oddness of smelling like Indian curry with bright green apples, coffee, and caramel. It is only Masha’s vague dryness that prevented my stomach from turning.

Photo: Mike Wepplo at mikewepplo.com

Masha turns into a skin scent on me at the start of the 4th hour with 2 spritzes from my atomizer. It is a blur of spices, curried notes, synthetic oud, amber with caramel tonalities, abstract dry woodiness, and a touch of pepperiness. It takes on a vague aura of clean freshness from the musk, which merely adds to the disconcerting nature of the bouquet.

I’ll be honest, I wasn’t inspired to smell Masha with great frequency and depth. My normal practice is to take stock of a perfume’s development every 30 minutes after the midway point, if not more often. With Masha, not only was I unenthused to do so, but nothing in the first 5 hours gave any indication that the perfume was shifting or changing radically. Whenever I did smell it, Masha continued to be the same linear bouquet with only fluctuating levels of curried tonalities and small shifts in the ambered base.

By the start of the 9th hour, Masha was merely a blur of spiced, ambered woodiness, with dryness, sweetness, and a touch of grainy powderiness. The curried banana leaf-like accord was the most noticeably distinct, individual element, but, eventually, even that faded away. In its final moments, Masha was a whisper of vaguely woody, spiced amber. All in all, it consistently lasted over 12.5 hours.

ALL IN ALL:

For my Reviews en Bref, I don’t give comparative assessments from other bloggers or sites, but I’ll point you to the Fragrantica piece on the Tola line if you’re interested. It has one chap’s short take on each of the fragrances, including Misqaal or Masha.

Needless to say, I was not enthused. My experiences with the two fragrances can essentially be summarized as “traumatizing,” and “not traumatic, but very far from enjoyable.” I can see why someone who loves intensely concentrated, dense, fruity-florals with sweetness might possibly like Misqaal, but Masha is a mish-mash of too many discordant things.

In a way, that almost makes it worse. At least Misqaal can be seen as a rich, dense, honeyed orange blossom scent, even if the richness goes far into “suffocating” and “nausea” territory. Misha, however… Misha leaves me almost at a loss for words in terms of its notes. It is a lack of finesse of a completely different kind. There is almost a giddiness at how the numerous — and frequently discordant — elements are all tossed together, willy nilly, as if to see how many unusual things can be mixed together in one heavily spiced concoction.

I’m quite familiar with Middle Eastern perfumery, and have lived in the region myself in my travels, so that’s not the problem. It’s not as though Middle Eastern perfumery is foreign to me, and I “don’t get it.” No, I simply don’t think that really good Middle Eastern fragrances are such an unrestrained hodge-podge or so wildly unbalanced. In the case of Misha and Misqaal, they may feel rich due to their denseness and heaviness, but their actual bouquet isn’t at all refined. And, for $285 or €225 for a tiny 45 ml bottle, they should be.

I have samples of all six Tola fragrances, but this initial foray hasn’t inspired much confidence in me to pursue them with great urgency. Judging by Fragrantica’s overall Tola page, and looking at the remaining fragrances individually, several seem to be “fruity florals,” which is not exactly my favorite category of fragrances in the world. And they all have a huge laundry list of notes beginning with a lot of fruit, just like Masha and Misqaal. I confess to now feeling great dread at the look of them, whereas once there was enormous excitement at the line. So, if there is one that you’re particularly interested in, let me know and I’ll try to cover it sooner rather than later. Otherwise, it may indeed be “later.”

Disclosure: Perfume sample courtesy of Osswald NY. That did not influence this review. I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Misqaal and Misha are both eau de parfums. They come only in a 45 ml bottle that costs $285, €225, or £198. Extrait versions are available, though not on most Western retail sites. In the U.S.: Tola fragrances are available at Luckyscent and Osswald NY. Luckyscent used to have a sample discovery pack for the full line, but I no longer see it on their website. Outside the U.S.: Currently, the Tola website is under construction, and doesn’t have an e-store. In the U.K, Tola is available at Selfridges. In Paris, you can find the line at Nose. For the rest of Europe, you can turn to First in Fragrance which ships worldwide. In Dubai, Tola is available at Villa 515, Beach Road, or Le Jardin des Parfums, Abu Dhabi Mall. Samples: None of the U.S. sample sites currently carry this fragrance, but Luckyscent and Osswald NYC both sell samples at different prices.

Stéphane Humbert Lucas 777 Soleil de Jeddah

Posted on May 2, 2014 by Kafkaesque

A ball of orange, green and gold, dripping with exotic juices from an orchard before being swathed in Russian leather and amber. Soleil de Jeddah from Stéphane Humbert Lucas often feels as bright as the sun it was named after, but there is a slow eclipse as dark, slightly smoky leather casts its shadow over its bright heart.

Stéphane Humbert Lucas. Source: SHL 777 Facebook page.

Soleil de Jeddah is a 2013 parfum extrait from Stéphane Humbert Lucas 777 (hereinafter just referred to as “SHL 777” or “777“). All the fragrances are created by Monsieur Lucas, who used to be the in-house perfumer for SoOud and Nez à Nez. Up to now, the 777 line was exclusive to Europe, Russia, and Middle Eastern, but there is good news. The complete SHL 777 line should be coming to America in a few days, including the stunning amber monster, O Hira, that was previously contractually limited to Harrods and to Printemps, and the 2013 iris-amber-heliotrope Khol de Bahrein.

The new 2014 releases should also be available, such as the highly original cherry-latex-almond-cedar-oud Qom Chilom, the immortelle gourmand, Une Nuit à Doha, and the Cambodian oud, smoke and leather, Oud 777. The scents will be exclusive to Luckyscent and Osswald NYC. I have samples of the line, thanks to the generosity and kindness of Monsieur Lucas, and Soleil de Jeddah is the last in my series. (Rose de Petra was accidentally omitted from my package.)

As a side note, it is Monsieur Lucas who takes all the photos of the perfume bottles that I have shown in this series, and I think the one for Soleil de Jeddah may be one of the prettiest images that I’ve seen for a fragrance in a long time.

Source: SHL 777 Facebook page.

Soleil de Jeddah is a pure parfum with 24% perfume concentration that is described in the press materials provided to me as follows:

Source: Stéphane Humbert Lucas.

Bakelite of pulverized amber.
A fragrance both dignified and aphrodisiac.
Solar fragrance, luminous, bright, respectful reference to the holy city.

Lemon – Roman Chamomile – Osmanthus
Iris Root – Amber – Earthy Notes
Iris Butter – Russian Leather – Vanilla from Madagascar.

Regular readers will know by now that, as with other SHL 777 fragrances, the official list is merely a nutshell synopsis. I’ll spare you the details of my now routine (and very comedic) email exchanges with Monsieur Lucas, where I tell him all the other things I smell in the perfume and ask what is missing from his official list. Suffice it say, he is a very kind and patient man, and we’ve had a good laugh about my OCD obsession with details.

Mimosa. Source: Fragrantica

The actual note list for Soleil de Jeddah is incredibly long. These are just the main elements:

Osmanthus, Roman chamomile, Acacia mimosa (Fleur de Cassie), genet (Broom), lemon, mandarin, Sicilian bergamot, iris butter, iris concrete, jasmine, carnation, Indian patchouli, Russian leather (Isobutyl quinoleine and birch wood), oakmoss, civet, musk, styrax, labdanum amber, benzoin, and Madagascar vanilla.

Photo: House of Herrera, Caroline Herrera. Source: popsugar.com.au

Monsieur Lucas described Soleil de Jeddah to me as a perfume with a powerful citrus opening, followed by a strong floral heart, above a persistent, dark, intensely leathered base that is imbued with mousse de chene or oakmoss. He visualises it as a perfume that a woman would wear to a ball, with a long, flowing gown whose open back exposes sensual skin, all worn with a “panoply of jewels” and furs. I can see his vision and understand it, but, for me, Soleil de Jeddah is more akin to a glowing ball of yellow and orange centered on a massively concentrated citric and fruity heart, above a leathered base flecked with animalic civet.

Apricot. Source: forwallpaper.com

Soleil de Jeddah opens on my skin with juicy apricots that are tangy with jamminess, followed by very tart, sour, zesty lemon, then iris, more iris, a light dusting of iris powder, chamomile, and an odd woodiness. There are leather nuances and a touch of smokiness, but the overall impression is of brightness. (I wrote in my notes, “bright, bright, BRIGHT!”)

Osmanthus often smells of apricots, with a leathery undertone, but flower in Soleil de Jeddah is highly imbued with other fruits as well. The result is a mixed osmanthus note with a concentrated feel that I’ve never experienced before. It reminds me of Black Gemstone‘s dense, tangy lemon curd, only here, the citrus is accompanied by equally concentrated apricots and oranges as well. Just as in Black Gemstone, the fruits in Soleil de Jeddah have been heavily amplified by a jammy, purple patchouli, but the main sensation is of tartness, not syrupy sweetness. It is a saturated explosion of tangy zestiness that is fresh, crisp, heavy, sweet, and sour, all at once.

Green mango via alegriphotos.com

It also strongly reminded me of something else, and, for the longest time, I couldn’t place it. Initially, the overall effect made me think a little of a tart Jolly Rancher candy infused strongly with iris and a touch of chamomile. But that wasn’t really it. There was more going on. Then it came to me: the green tartness resembled a kiwi and pineapple mix, with perhaps a tiny touch of cassis or black currant. At least, the first time around. On two subsequent tests, the zingy, tart, tangy fruitiness consistently smelled like green mangoes. It is exactly like the very concentrated, potent, heady mix in Neela Vermeire‘s bright mango floriental, Bombay Bling. I tried them side-by-side at one point, and yes, I am wafting green mangoes. I cannot explain it at all.

Photo: My own.

In all my tests, however, the multi-faceted fruit accord is always cocooned in iris above a slightly leather base. The iris smells wet, rooty, woody, cool, and lightly powdered all at once. The leather base is dark, thick, and, initially, lightly smoked, with flecks of a dry woodiness that reminds me of tree bark.

Many fragrances attempt to recreate the impression of “leather” through other notes. As the Perfume Shrine explains, “[r]endering a leather note in perfumery is a challenge for the perfumer[,]” and that what is “actually used” to create that olfactory impression are vegetal or synthetic ingredients which can include birch tar, juniper cade, and quinoline. The Perfume Shrine adds:

isobutyl quinoline … possesses a fiercely potent odour profile described as earthy, rooty, and nutty, echoing certain facets of oakmoss and vetiver and blending very well with both. Isobutyl quinoline also has ambery, woody, tobacco-like undertones: a really rich aromachemical!

Source: quattraenergy.com

While some of that description applies to what I smell in Soleil de Jeddah, my nose seems to read the leather more as “birch tar,” probably because that is how I am used to “Russian leather” being replicated. The note here is very similar to the leather in Caron‘s Tabac Blond and Chanel‘s Cuir de Russie, but Monsieur Lucas said only a little birch was used in the fragrance and that the main elements in the base are smoky styrax resin and isobutyl quinoline. Still, on my skin, there was a definite streak of woodiness in one of my tests of Soleil de Jeddah that I interpreted as “birch” bark shavings.

Source: creativity103.com

It’s an unusual combination when taken as a whole. The iris with the tart, tangy fruits and chamomile stands out as it is, but I have to admit that the “birch” wood totally threw me the first time around. Its dry woodiness and smokiness feels a bit strange in conjunction with apricot-kiwi-pineapple (or mango). And, yet, somehow it works. On some levels, Soleil de Jeddah reminded me of a super concentrated, heavy, more powerful cousin to Creed‘s cult hit, Aventus. The fruits are completely different, but the tangy, juicy, citric, lightly smoked feel underscored by birch leather is the same. Soleil de Jeddah is more dense and complex though, with constant streaks of chamomile and iris.

Photo: My own.

Those last two notes are soon overshadowed as the leathered base grows smokier and more powerful. The iris consistently fades on my skin after 20 minutes, and is never replaced by the other floral notes on the list. Carnation? Not on me. Jasmine? Non plus. Mimosa? Only occasionally, in the background, and in the most muted way imaginable. For the most part, Soleil de Jeddah’s main bouquet on my skin is consistently some fluctuating mix of apricots, oranges, lemon curd, green mango/kiwi/pineapple, chamomile, and jammy patchouli, all over the smoky leather base made up of styrax, birch, and isobutyl quinoline.

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

It’s an intensely concentrated, deep, strong mix but there is a surprising weightlessness to it. Despite the richness of its notes, Soleil de Jeddah doesn’t feel opaque or dense, and the sillage is generally average on my skin. 2 large spritzes from my atomizer, amounting to one good spray from a proper bottle, gave me a soft cloud with 3 inches in projection at first. Using 3 spritzes expanded the radius by another inch. Yet, in both cases, the sillage dropped at the start of the 2nd hour, and Soleil de Jeddah lay 1-2 inches above the skin. It turned into a skin scent roughly 4.75 hours in, which is much less time than some of the other SHL 777 fragrances that I’ve tried. Still, for those first few hours, Soleil de Jeddah has good sillage, and feels particularly strong up close due to the saturated, rich nature of the notes.

In all my tests, Soleil de Jeddah starts to transition into its second phase at the end of the 3rd hour. A powdery vanilla arrives to diffuse both the smokiness of the styrax resin in the base and the tartness of the fruits up top. It casts a thin blanket over the notes, softening them through the lens of a dry vanilla. As in a few of the SHL 777 fragrances, the note is not so much powdered or sweet as grainy and sandy; it’s almost more textural at times than actual vanilla, if that makes any sense. Soleil de Jeddah is still sharp and rich up close, but it lacks the same degree of concentrated, thick juiciness in its fruits, and the woodiness has disappeared.

Source: thewallpaperr.blogspot.com

The leather remains, however. In the majority of my tests, the apricot-orange-mango accord takes a step back, letting the smoky Russian leather and vanilla slowly take over center stage. Tiny flickers of chamomile continue to lurk about, while the amber begins to stirs in the base. It doesn’t smell like ambergris (which is what First in Fragrance mistakenly lists it as), nor like labdanum. Rather, it is merely a soft, golden haze which adds warmth to the scent. The jammy, purple patchouli occasionally appears in its own right as an individually distinct note next to the apricot-orange-lemon-mango accord, but, generally, it melts into the fruits. Once in a blue moon, I think I may smell a brief pinch of mimosa in the powderiness, but it is probably the power of suggestion.

At the end of the 7th hour, Soleil de Jeddah is a blur of black Russian leather and abstract, tart fruits, all lightly powdered with vanilla and cocooned in a soft, golden warmth. There is a civet-like sharpness to the scent, along with a lingering touch of sweetness that made me wonder if there was honey in Soleil de Jeddah. Monsieur Lucas says there isn’t, but the sweetness has a definite animalic sharpness that seems to go beyond mere civet on my skin. Whatever the source of the note, Soleil de Jeddah’s leather has a touch of skanky dirtiness underlying it.

Photo: My own.

The leather eventually fades away, and Soleil de Jeddah’s final drydown on my skin consists of tart fruitiness with vanilla and civet. There are touches of jammy patchouli which occasionally pop up, but very little remains of the birch, isobutyl quinoline, or woodiness. There is no powder, and Soleil de Jeddah isn’t even really ambered any more, either.

In its final moments, the perfume is a mere blur of dry, semi-tart fruitiness with a touch of vanilla and some lingering sharpness from the civet. All in all, Soleil de Jeddah consistently lasted over 10 hours on my skin. With 2 spritzes, I thought it was about to die at the end of the 9th hour, but the perfume lingered on tenaciously for a total of 10.75 hours. With 3 spritzes, Soleil de Jeddah lasted just under 12 hours, really more like 11.75.

Painting by Moon Beom via lostateminor.com

I could not find any comparative reviews to show you how others see the scent. On Fragrantica, where Soleil de Jeddah is categorized as a “leather,” the perfume’s entry page has no comments at this time. However, one of my readers, “Lady Jane Grey,” owns the scent and shared her experiences in the comment section of another one of my SHL 777 reviews. There, she wrote about how Soleil de Jeddah was 2 perfumes in 1 on her skin, changing its character from one occasion to the next:

Jeddah smells differently worn on the same spot (left wrist) – when I tested at Harrods (mid afternoon) it was fruity and bright and happy, a spring scent entirely with a golden agarwood note in the back. Spritzed in the evening on the same spot the oud has that medical note, which in fact I quite like, because I find it calming. The scent is sweet and creamy..

Soleil de Jeddah has no oud, so I suspect the isobutyl quinoline and birch may be responsible for the woodiness that she is detecting.

Source: hdwalls.info

For another blogger, the charming Christos of Memory of Scent, a brief test of Soleil de Jeddah in Switzerland’s Theodora Parfumery was all about the bright fruits. His short synopsis reads:

777 Stéphane Hubert Lucas Soleil de Jeddah: high end, high price, Middle East oriented house. This however, 3 hours after being sparyed on a blotter, feels like it is dripping fruity juices, in the best possible way, coming from someone who doesn’t like fruity fragrances. And all this with a touch of leather and ambergris! Very interesting!

I don’t generally like fruity fragrances, either, but I share his view that Soleil de Jeddah is a very interesting take on it, thanks to the smoky Russian leather and the other accords.

While Soleil de Jeddah’s strong backbone of fruitiness isn’t my personal style, I think the perfume will be a hit for those who are looking for a more adult, polished, original take on fruity fragrances. Those who adore very bright, tangy, sunny orientals like Bombay Bling will enjoy the similar vibe here, while the inclusion of smoky leather, animalic civet, and soft ambered warmth should reassure those who aren’t into “fruit cocktails,” as one friend of mine calls the category. And, who knows, you may even be lucky enough to experience the plethora of floral elements included in the scent, though they never really appeared on my skin. Finally, if you’re a fan of Aventus‘ mix of tangy-sweet fruits with birch leather, you may very much enjoy the richer, more concentrated SHL 777 take on the theme, especially if the Creed perfume doesn’t last on your skin.

Soleil de Jeddah is priced in the middle of the SHL 777 range. In Europe, it costs €235 for a 50 ml bottle of pure parfum that has 24% concentration. I don’t have the official American pricing rate, but I believe Osswald will sell it for $309. So, it’s not at the high-end represented by the magnificent monster amber, O Hira, but it’s also not at the “cheap” level of the lovely iris-amber-heliotrope, Khol de Bahrein, or the gourmand immortelle-marmalade-tobacco, Une Nuit à Doha.

In short, if you’re looking for a leather fragrance with a twist, or if you enjoy bright, tangy fruits whose rich juices feel as though they’re dripping off the vine onto your skin, give Soleil de Jeddah a sniff.

Disclosure: Perfume sample courtesy of Stéphane Humbert Lucas. That did not influence this review. I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Soleil de Jeddah is an Extrait or pure parfum that is only available in a 50 ml bottle and costs €235. The 777 line will be at Luckyscent and Osswald NYC at the start of May. [Update 5/2 — Osswald now has the full 777 line. They sell Soleil de Jeddah for $309.] Outside the U.S.: Currently, the SHL 777 website is under construction, and doesn’t have an e-store. The best online resource is First in Fragrance which just received the complete SHL 777 line, including the new 2014 releases. It offers a sample of Soleil de Jeddah for €14, but is currently out of stock of the full bottles. In London, you can find the entire collection at Harrod’s Black Room, while in Paris, they are exclusive to Printemps under the name 777. Zurich’s Osswald also carries the line, they don’t have an e-store any more. The Swiss perfumery, Theodora, also has SHL 777, but no e-store. In Cannes, France, the store Taizo is said to carry the 777 line, but I didn’t see the perfumes on their website the last time I checked. In the Middle East, Souq.com has about 6 of the earlier fragrances which it sells for AED 1,500. In the UAE, the SHL 777 line is available at Harvey Nichols and at Bloomingdales in the Dubai Mall. In Russia, SHL 777 is sold at Lenoma. Ukraine’s Sana Hunt Luxury store also carries the line, but they don’t have an e-store. Samples: None of the U.S. sample sites currently carry this fragrance, so Luckyscent and Osswald NYC will be your best option once the SHL 777 line is released. Osswald has changed its Sample Program such that individual pricing now depends on the cost of the particular perfume in question. They range from $3 a vial, up to $9 a vial for fragrances that cost over $300. The program is limited to U.S. customers and has free shipping, but there is also a 3-sample minimum, I believe. If you have questions, you can call Osswald at (212) 625-3111 to enquire further.