Parfums de Nicolaï Amber Oud: Soothing Comfort

Posted on April 3, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: diaryofamadhausfrau.com

Close your eyes, and imagine diving into a pool of lavender ice-cream. As the bracing herbal bouquet swirls in the air, tonka and vanilla coat your body like silk, enveloping you, soothing you. Yet, with every lap you take, the water starts to change its colours. The purple and cream turn to gold, then to bronze, and finally to brown-gold as the lavender gives way first to patchouli, and then to labdanum. Dusted with tonka, your body is coated with a sweet, spicy warmth that always feels expensive. It is the world of Amber Oud from Parfums de Nicolaï, a world that has absolutely nothing to do with oud and everything to do with soothing richness.

I’ve often said that my second favorite category of perfumes are “cozy, comfort” scents, and Amber Oud certainly qualifies. The last 6 weeks have been frustrating and stressful with the website changes, and I’ve repeatedly sought the creamy embrace of Amber Oud. It riveted me from the very first time I tried it, and I say this as someone who absolutely loathes lavender. To the point of a phobia, in fact. But, lavender or not, I think Amber Oud is truly marvelous. For me, it feels like a safety blanket, one that comes close to wiping away my worries, lowering my blood pressure, and comforting me — all with a luxuriousness that feels like the very best of Guerlain. Given that Madame de Nicolaï is a member of that family and is highly influenced by the Guerlain tradition, the similarities in feel are not surprising.

“The Lavender Princess.” Photo: Kirsty Mitchell. Source: http://www.kirstymitchellphotography.com/collection.php?album=5

Nonetheless, let me be clear at the outset about one thing: if Amber Oud is an “oud” fragrance, then I’m Vladimir Putin. If you test the perfume expecting to detect a profound amount of agarwood, you’re going to be sorely disappointed. I have worn Amber Oud a number of times, and not once did I detect even an iota of agarwood. Not once. Cedar and some amorphous, indistinct woodiness, definitely. Actual oud, no.

Amber Oud in its two sizes, 30 ml and 100 ml. Source: Luckyscent.

On her website, Patricia de Nicolaï describes Amber Oud and its notes as follows:

Amber Oud is created thanks to the famous perfumers amber combination, based on vanilla and labdanum. A perfume sublimated by the powerful agarwood note.

Top notes are lavender, thyme, sage and artemisia; middle notes are cinnamon, saffron, agarwood [oud], cedar, patchouli and sandalwood; base notes are vanilla, tonka bean, styrax, musk, castoreum and amber.

As noted above, I couldn’t detect any agarwood in Amber Oud, let alone a “powerful” one. So, a more apt description of the perfume might be that of Luckyscent:

Source: 123rf.com

Amber Oud embodies a golden effervescence, a freshness you wouldn’t expect from its name. Debuting with clean spice notes and a bubbly profile, the scent presents a generous herbal bouquet. Wafts of lavender, thyme, sage, and artemisia provide a stunning balance to the warm and rich notes lying deep within the scent. The warmth of amber, vanilla, and patchouli anchors the scent but doesn’t disrupt its clean and elegant persona. Laced with saffron and a dash of cinnamon, Amber Oud is sure to surprise you with its intriguing blend of grace and mystery.

As you can see, Luckyscent doesn’t mention oud once in their summation of the scent. On the other hand, I disagree with them on a few things: this is not a scent with “mystery,” I don’t think Amber Oud is really “clean” (thank God), and I’m a bit dubious about the “bubbly profile” bit. Yet, Luckyscent comes close in nailing the perfume’s essence. They are especially correct in noting the perfume’s golden touch infused with a generous herbal bouquet, and how patchouli is an anchor.

Source: 550px.com

Amber Oud opens on my skin with a bouquet that is, at once, herbal and sweet. Immediately, you are hit with the lavender which is simultaneously pungent, brisk, dried, sharp, but sweet and creamy. It is thoroughly infused with tonka, then dashes of golden warmth from the amber, and slivers of vanilla mousse.

From afar, it’s nothing but a tableau of lavender and creamy sweetness, but there are other elements woven in as well. There is a tiny touch of greenness from the other herbs, most noticeably sage. A quiet spiciness and very muted, abstract woodiness also linger at the edges. The latter has a dried, peppery, aromatic and sweet quality that clearly stems from the cedar. Lurking far, far in the background, if you really focus, you can pull out the red-gold threads of saffron, mostly from a faintly buttery, spicy undertone. In the same way, you can just barely make out the contours of cinnamon dusted on the vanilla mousse. However, it takes a great deal of concentration to tease out these nuances, for Amber Oud’s opening on my skin is primarily just lavender tonka vanilla.

Photo: Wanna Be A Country Cleaver, Megan Cleaver, via Tastykitchen.com

I normally despise lavender, shivering at its pungent harshness, its cologne-like briskness, its medicinal and soapy facets, but what a lavender it is here. Simply beautiful, and it just gets lovelier with time. The herbaceous quality of the flower loses much of its sharpness after 5 minutes, and turns more into lavender ice cream cocooned in a soft, golden glow. To the extent that there is “amber” in the fragrance, it really translates at this stage as a warm, deep richness upon which is anchored the dominant duo of lavender and tonka.

I find the whole thing utterly addictive, but I’d be the first to say that none of it is complicated, edgy, original, or even particularly oriental in feel. In fact, Amber Oud seems to straddle two categories — the herbal aromatic and the gourmand — without really falling into either one. And, for all that the perfume has sweetness, it never feels really gourmand to me. The tonka is just enough to cut through the lavender’s herbaceousness and stop it from being barber-shop pungent, sharp, or abrasive.

Artist unknown. Source: pinterest via eBay.

There is an incredible smoothness to the blend, and its seamless richness feels very luxurious. Amber Oud really evokes the best of Guerlain, because there is no doubt in my mind that the most expensive, high-quality ingredients have been used. (Minus the nonexistent oud note.) Initially, Amber Oud feels very concentrated and dense in its opening moments, like rich damask silk on the skin. Yet, the richness of the notes belies the perfume’s overall airiness and generally soft sillage. At first, Amber Oud’s projection is quite good. 3 tiny squirts from my wonky decant created a dense cloud of lavender cream that wafted 3 inches above the skin, but the sillage starts to soften and drop after only 20 minutes. By the end of the first hour, the perfume hovers just an inch above the skin.

Amber Oud shifts slowly and incrementally. After 30 minutes, the perfume is noticeably creamier, as the vanilla becomes more prominent. It combines with the tonka to create the silkiest, smoothest crème anglaise sauce into which the fragrant, aromatic lavender has been melted. It’s a sweetly spicy mix, shot through with subtle veins of cedar woodiness.

Source: abm-enterprises.net

At the end of the 1st hour, the perfume begins its shift into the second stage as a patchouli note seeps up from the base, adding an additional element of spicy warmth. Those of you who are phobic about patchouli, don’t worry. This is a really refined, smooth take on the note, thanks to the tonka. The overall effect reminds me of Serge Lutens‘ beautiful bell jar exclusive, Fourreau Noir, the only other lavender fragrance I have ever fallen for. There are differences, however. Amber Oud lacks Fourreau Noir’s dominant tendrils of black smoke; the lavender here is much smoother and softer; and the scent as a whole feels creamier, sweeter, and slightly denser.

By the end of the second hour, the patchouli and amber share center stage with the lavender cream. Amber Oud has lost its purple and vanilla hues, and turned thoroughly golden. The perfume is drier, and less vanillic, but the amber feels quite generalized at this stage, instead of actual labdanum amber with its particular, distinctive character. As a whole, Amber Oud is a warm, spicy sweet, herbal amber with vanilla and patchouli, and the tiniest flecks of cedar. It feels as though it’s about to turn into a skin scent at any moment, but that only occurs just before end of the 3rd hour.

Source: popularscreensavers.com

Amber Oud changes by such tiny degrees that you’re almost surprised when you suddenly realise that you’re wearing a patchouli-amber scent, infused with vanilla, and with only tiny streaks of the most abstract herbal bouquet. The dominant, main lavender ice-cream note of the beginning has largely faded away by the 2.75 hour mark, though you can still smell it in the background. Like fluid, liquid silk, the perfume flows into a new stage where the patchouli is increasingly the driving force behind the amber cloud, followed thereafter by tonka and vanilla. Small slivers of cedar dart about, lending far more dryness to the scent than initially existed, but the oud remains completely nonexistent.

Photo: Werner Kunz at photopoly.net

3.5 hours into its development, Amber Oud is a blur of spicy, sweet patchouli infused with a darker amber that is finally starting to resemble labdanum. The vanilla melts into the base, losing its distinctive edge, while the first whispers of the latter’s honeyed, toffee’d, dark aroma takes its place. The effect is to turn Amber Oud’s visuals from gold flecked with cream, to bronze and brown. From a distance, Amber Oud is not as easy to detect, but, up close you are struck by its cozy warmth, its silky spiciness, and its woody sweetness. Eventually, the labdanum shows its true nature with a darker warmth that turns Amber Oud all brown in hue. The perfume clings to the skin like the thinnest glaze of labdanum and patchouli, dusted over by a fine mist of tonka that feels a little bit powdered at times. In its final moments, Amber Oud is an abstract touch of warm, soft, slightly spicy, slightly woody sweetness.

Source: swirlydoos.com

All in all, Amber Oud lasted just short of 8 hours on my skin, with generally soft sillage after the 2 hour. I loved every bit of it, but particularly the opening 90 minutes with the lavender ice-cream. It felt incredibly soothing, a bouquet that would lull you to sleep in a wave of serenity. I thoroughly appreciated how neither the tonka and vanilla felt like a cloying ball of goo, along with the fact that there was almost no powder throughout Amber Oud’s lifetime. The golden haze of the later stages — with patchouli that is first flecked with vanilla, then with amber, and finally with true labdanum — was wonderful. Everything felt perfectly balanced, seamless, and rich.

Amber Oud is not perfect, however. I wish it had taken longer for the scent to turn sheer in weight and soft in projection, but that is a minor thing. The real issue with Amber Oud may be its price. The Parfums de Nicolaï line has always been very reasonably priced — intentionally so, in fact — but Amber Oud and its sibling, Rose Oud, cost quite a bit more. A tiny 30 ml bottle is priced at $78 or €58, while the large 100 ml/3.3 oz bottle costs $235 or €174. Presumably, the reasoning for putting the new Ouds at a much higher level than the rest of the line is the fact that they contain a “powerful” oud note. However, no-one I know who has tried Amber Oud has found it to be an “oud” fragrance. As you will see in a minute, many Fragrantica commentators can’t detect any oud at all. In short, I feel as though I’m being treated like an idiot when a perfume’s price is yanked up for a note that is basically nonexistent.

Is Amber Oud over-priced at $235 given its safe and largely simplistic nature? I think it’s going to come down to personal tastes. I would have said it was ridiculously priced the first time I smelled it when I detected nothing but lavender-vanilla for the first two hours. Yet, the perfume as a whole is beautiful, feels extremely luxurious, and is something that I feel like reaching for continuously when stressed. So, for me, the price is worth it, but I realise that it is a very subjective, personal calculation which will be different for each person. I would not be remotely surprised if a number of you found Amber Oud to be lovely, but far too simple or basic for $235. (As a side note, I realise that there is a much cheaper option at $78 for 30 ml, but that feels a little high for such a tiny size. Plus, this is a scent that I personally would want to use frequently and to spray with abandon; 30 ml wouldn’t cut it for that purpose.)

Kilian Amber Oud in the refill bottle. Source: Harvey Nichols.

Amber Oud is frequently compared to Kilian‘s Amber Oud, perhaps because the latter also contains virtually no oud. Personally, I don’t think the two perfumes are comparable except in terms of their overall feel. The Kilian fragrance doesn’t have any lavender or patchouli, and I didn’t detect any labdanum, merely a generalized “amber.” The price structure is different as well. Kilian’s Amber costs $185 for a 50 ml refill bottle, so it is much more expensive on a price-per-ml basis. (I’m not even getting into the full $385 cost for the proper, black, 50 ml bottle.)

On Fragrantica, a number of people find the Nicolaï Amber Oud to be much better than the Kilian fragrance, while a few strongly disagree. Personally, I’m not a fan of the very wispy Kilian version, so I’m with the first group. Below are a range of opinions on the Nicolaï scent:

Its a very nice Amber+Oud combination. In comparison with Amber Oud by KILIAN, I have to say that Ms. Nicolai perfume is much better (as smell, longevity, projection & price). I think I made a mistake by buying the small bottle. 2 thumbs up

Similar to Amber Oud by KILIAN, But to me Nicolai is much better. Great scent, happy to have in my collection

I’m a little bit disappointed. You can’t detect the oud, and the amber note is not prominent in the opening nor in the dry down. Also the longevity is a bit poor on my skin. [¶] To me, you can’t even compare this with the Amber Oud of By Kilian! The Kilian version is supreme!! But then, everyone has his own taste. Beside all that, the fragrance has a pleasent smell!

Nice surprise!!! I was expecting the ordinary but… Wow! Yes yes, it is Much more AMBER LAVENDER than AMBER OUD! But still so lovely! [¶] Smells soft and wonderful on skin… On me lasts 6-8 hours! Good projection too! [¶] Just one advice: if you’re looking for “the most prominent and strongest” Oud (that I particularly dislike)… Go look another place!

This smells incredible. [¶] Very good quality scent and very well blended. [¶] If you like sweet-oriental frags. or amber fragances, you must try this.
Longevity and sillage are both moderate-low.
scent: 9/10
longevity: 6/10
sillage: 5/10
P.D.: The bad thing is the price…..

photo: 123rf.com

On Luckyscent, there are only two reviews, one of which is from a woman who thought the perfume’s herbaceousness rendered Amber Oud more masculine than unisex in nature:

This is not a unisex scent. I bought a sample of this to compare to By Kilian’s Amber Oud, which I really like. As soon as I first put it on, it immediately smelled like a strong men’s cologne. It brings to mind an upscale version of Old Spice, but also with some green notes to it, probably from the sage and thyme. I wouldn’t mind smelling this on a man, though. I passed the sample on to my husband.

The Perfume Shrine talks about both the issue of masculinity and the oud, though they categorize the last situation differently than I do:

Amber Oud by de Nicolai however is oud prowling in kitten’s paws, so delicate and purring you might be mistaken for thinking there is some problem with the labeling. Because Amber Oud is mostly a glorious aromatic amber fragrance with copious helpings of premium grade lavender fanned on resinous, plush notes of velvet. […][¶]

In Patricia de Nicolai’s Amber Oud the blast of lavender at the beginning is the dominant force which takes you by surprise and which might make women think this is more men’s gear than girly girl stuff. But they need not fear. Gents and ladies alike will appreciate the seamless procession into a balsamic smelling nucleus. […] Seekers of oud (lured by the name) might feel cheated and there is no eye-catching innovativeness in the formula itself, but de Nicolai is continuing on a path of wearable, presentable, smooth perfumes that have earned her brand a steady following.

Source: wallpaperweb.org

The Non-Blonde has a similar assessment:

The first thing to notice about Nicolai’s Amber Oud and Rose Oud is that they don’t smell very oudy. […][¶]

Amber Oud doesn’t smell particularly ambery, especially compared to the Oriental fantasy of Kilian’s perfume with the same name. It’s actually a very herbal-aromatic concoction, like a darkened and deepened fougere that still maintains the bones of a great and classic men’s cologne. It took me a couple of testings to really find the oud in this perfume, but it’s there, hiding right behind the spicy front put by saffron and cinnamon. It’s instantly likable, decidedly fresh, and very refined. Amber Oud probably suits and appeals to me more than it does for women. I just wish it wasn’t so safe.

I agree, Amber Oud is very safe, but I didn’t find it to be half as herbal-aromatic as she did. On my skin, that phase was only a small portion of the scent, and always festooned by copious vanilla and tonka to create lavender ice-cream more than a fresh aromatic scent. Plus, the main heart of the Amber Oud was patchouli, followed by a resinous labdanum finish at the end. As for the hiding wood note, I found that it was always cedar, not oud.

Clearly, skin chemistry is going to make a difference in terms of what you experience, and how unisex it may be. Similarly, personal valuation will determine if the end result is too simplistic for the price, or cozy comfort that is well worth it. All I can say is that lovers of lavender, amber, and patchouli, as well as Kilian’s Amber Oud, should really try the Nicolaï version. I absolutely love its serene, soothing warmth and luxurious comfort.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Amber Oud is an eau de parfum that comes in two sizes. There is a tiny 30 ml/1 oz bottle that costs $78 or €58, and there is a large 100 ml/3.3 oz bottle that costs $235 or €174. In the U.S.: Luckyscent sells both sizes of the perfume, and also offers samples. Beautyhabit only carries the small 30 ml size. Same story with Parfum1, but they sell samples for $4. OsswaldNY has some of the Parfums de Nicolai line, but not the two new Oud fragrances. Outside the U.S.: For Canadian readers, the US-based Perfume Shoppe carries the Parfums de Nicolaï line, but I don’t see Amber Oud on their website. In the U.K., Parfums de Nicolaï has a shop in London on Fulham Road. You can check the Store Link below for the exact address. For all European readers, you can order directly from Parfums de Nicolaï which sells Amber Oud for €58 and €178, depending on size. In France, the company has numerous boutiques, especially in Paris. First in Fragrance sells the large 100 ml bottle for €159.66. In the Netherlands, ParfuMaria carries both sizes of Amber Oud, as does Annindriya’s Perfume Lounge. In Spain, the PdN line is sold at Ruiz de Ocenda, but I don’t see the new Ouds listed. In Hungary, I found both sizes of Amber Oud at Neroli. For other locations in France and the address of the London store, you can turn to the Nicolai Store Listing. It doesn’t show any vendors outside France or the UK. I found no stores carrying the line in Asia, the Middle East, or Australia. Samples: Samples of Amber Oud are available from Luckyscent or Parfum1. Surrender to Chance does not carry it at this time.

DSH Perfumes Bodhi Sativa & Vanille Botanique

Posted on March 26, 2014 by Kafkaesque

The wonders of patchouli and balsamic resins are the respective focus of two fragrances from DSH Perfumes. The first is Bodhi Sativa which presents patchouli in all its many facets, while the second is Vanille Botanique which actually focuses on Tolu and Peru balsams to create a dark, smoky, ambered fragrance that is infused with vanilla, then laced with civet for a slight touch of animalic muskiness.

BODHI SATIVA:

10 ml bottle of Bodhi Sativa. Source: DSH website.

The DSH website describes Bodhi Sativa as a “suave and elegant patchouli perfume with a sexy, bohemian twist: a note of cannabis is hidden in the mix.” The fragrance was Ms. Hurwitz’s entry in the “Summer of Patchouli Love 2011” / Peace, Love and Patchouli! project, and she wrote on her blog that she sought to make a summery, lighter patchouli, to the extent that was possible.

At the same time, however, Bodhi Sativa is a completely botanical fragrance, a fact which carries a particular significance. You might be wondering, what exactly is a botanical scent, and how does it differ from a regular “natural” fragrance? Well, in a nutshell, it really comes to essential oils in their most concentrated or absolute form. In other words, a 100% botanical fragrance is really like an attar in richness, though not all attars are heavy and dense in nature.

According to my email correspondence with Ms. Hurwitz, the notes in Bodhi Sativa are:

East Indian patchouli, brown oakmoss absolute, hemp, Indian davana, frankincense co2 extract, cassis bud absolute, champaca absolute, osmanthus absolute, beeswax absolute, dalmation sage, green mandarin, jasmine sambac absolute, lemon, grapefruit, centifolia rose absolute, galbanum, rosewood, australian sandalwood, buddhawood, Texas cedar, vanilla absolute, Tolu balsam, and benzoin.

Ms. Hurwitz added that a number of these elements form the “cannabis” accord mentioned on her website. In short, there is no actual marijuana in Bodhi Sativa

Painting by: Dorian Monsalve at dorianscratchart.com

Bodhi Sativa opens on my skin with seemingly every possible facet of patchouli imaginable. It’s a rich, dense, chewy bouquet of booziness, greenness, earthiness with wet, sweet soil, dusted with spices, infused with smoke, and then placed on a bed of ambered sweetness. The intensity of the cognac-like booze fades within minutes, however, leaving a very earthy, sweet aroma. Tiny hints of vanilla simmer underneath while green touches similar to wet leaves are nestled all around. A very brown tonality flitters about, feeling almost like decayed moss and humus, with a touch of sweet peat. At the same time, there is a definite aroma of hemp that smells like sweet hay. The whole thing is flecked by smoke, honey, and green woods.

It’s an extremely complex layering of notes up close, reflecting every single possible nuance of the main ingredient. From afar, however, the main impression is merely of a kaleidoscopic patchouli dominated by earthiness. The latter becomes even more prominent after 5 minutes, particularly once all lingering traces of the cognac fade away. Taking its place is the first suggestion of woodiness, led by the cedar, then the rosewood. I don’t detect any floral notes at all.

Bodhi Sativa is extremely concentrated and rich in feel, but it is also surprisingly airy. The perfume feels soft, and the sillage matches. 3 massive, long smears gives me just 2 inches in initial projection, and it drops down to just above the skin after 10 minutes. However, it remains there for the next two hours, wafting its dense, chewy, gold-brown-green hues. Bodhi Sativa only turns into a skin scent on me after the start of the 3rd hour.

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

The perfume starts to shift and change 20 minutes into its development. At first, it is merely the lightest touch of mint that doesn’t alter Bodhi Sativa’s dominant focus on sweet earthiness. I do like the latter, but I wish there were an edge to the soft mushiness. It’s hard to explain, but Bodhi Sativa feels a little too ambered and earthy at this stage; I think it needs more grit, spice, and smoke. The latter exists, but it’s more akin to the merest suggestion in the background. I realise that sounds nitpicky, but, for a true “patch head,” the differences between various scents can be as important and significant as a Merlot versus an Old Vines Zinfandel. I prefer my patchoulis more like the latter, instead of the former with its mild sweetness.

Source: Stock image. footage.shutterstock.com

At the 30 minute mark, Bodhi Sativa turns quite green. The camphor blooms, added a needed sharpness and edge to the sweet, earthy, ambered mushiness. Yet, Bodhi Sativa is not a true headshop scent. It’s more akin to a mix of Les Nereides Patchouli Antique mixed with Reminiscence’s Elixir de Patchouli, with a tiny side of Serge Lutens‘ Borneo 1834 (minus its strong chocolate note). Around the same time, the orange pokes up its head for the first time, but it disappears quickly, retreats to the sidelines, and only re-emerges on occasion later down the road. There are still no florals on my skin, but there is a growing whiff of the “cannabis” accord that adds a tobacco-like undercurrent to the increasingly green patchouli.

Bodhi Sativa is a largely linear scent that only changes by small degrees on my skin. As a whole, it is a blend of earthy, camphorous, sweet, and ambered patchouli with hints of cannabis, smoke, and tobacco. The main change over time is that the scent grows muskier, drier, and browner. The ambered sweetness slowly diffuses amidst the camphorous greenness, the impression of “cannabis”-like tobacco grows stronger, and the perfume takes on a slightly animalic edge. I’m assuming the latter stems from the cassis buds. The note is not feral, and it’s definitely not urinous; instead, it is more like an occasional glimmer of sharp muskiness.

Source: layoutsparks.com

Much more important than all of this is the tolu balsam in the base which fully infuses the patchouli after 4 hours. The resin is one of my favorites, but not here. There is something about the note on my skin that comes across as dirty, and it happened with Vanille Botanique as well. It’s hard to explain, but the tolu balsam has a very odd combination of brown muskiness, smokiness, staleness, and mustiness. It doesn’t feel like a well-rounded, warm, treacly resinousness, but a dank, leathery dirtiness with sharp smoke and stale, earthy brownness.

The note becomes a constant companion to the patchouli, almost seeming to dominate it at times, and transforms Bodhi Sativa into something that feels very much like an all-natural scent. The best way I can explain it is that Bodhi Sativa doesn’t feel like more than the more refined perfume perfumes in Ms. Hurwitz’s line. It’s hard to fault Bodhi Sativa for being exactly what it is, so I know it’s my personal issue, but I’m simply not keen on the end result. The mix of slightly camphorous patchouli with brown, musky dirtiness lasts for hours on my skin, thanks to the botanical concentration. All in all, Bodhi Sativa endured for just short of 13.5 hours, though the perfume was difficult to detect without hard sniffing right on the skin after the start of the 6th hour. It was around that same time that Bodhi Sativa also turned more sheer, feeling like an intimate coating of brownness.

Amongst the various reviews for Bodhi Sativa is one from the blog Perfume-Smelling’ Things. The site was one of the judges in a large perfume competition focused on all-natural patchouli fragrances from 13 different perfumers. I believe this is the “Summer of Love” patchouli project for which Bodhi Sativa was originally created. Donna ranked it in fourth place, writing:

It is a very serene, calming scent, minty “tea with milk” on me with a slightly sweetened gourmand aura to start, and later the tea subsides as the fragrance gets richer and warmer without becoming overly sweet or strong, and it’s as elegant as a polished stone. I enjoyed this fragrance very much and Dawn’s expert hand is apparent in the balanced execution. In fact it was this subtlety and smoothness that caused it to not quite make the cut since I felt that I wanted to choose a fragrance that had a strong patchouli character yet be something I could really like, and the project is all about patchouli. It’s a beautiful fragrance and I would definitely wear it, but for me it just did not have that standout patchouli zing I was looking for in the winning composition.

Source: rgbstock.com

The Scent Hive blog was another one of the judges in the competition, and chose Bodhi Sativa as one of the three favorites out of the entries in a blind test. The post reads, in part:

man, if you love the kind vintage patchouli, Bodhi Sativa is speaking your language. For me it doesn’t conjure up smoke filled VW buses, but its leathery and slightly animalic aspect combined with a rich and minty aged patchouli certainly alludes to the herbal smoke. I love that Bodhi Sativa is an unabashedly patchouli fragrance. It begins and ends with the tenacious essence, but because it is harmonized with some fruity-floral nuances- I’m guessing osmanthus and rose otto- it’s never one-dimensional and wears nicely as a summer scent.

For March at The Perfume Posse, patchouli isn’t her favorite note, but she also enjoyed Bodhi Sativa, writing:

This one smells the most like “classical” perfumery to me, with a heavy overlay of patch. It’s definitely a patch-oriented fragrance without being at all hippie-ish. The woods and incense really shine through, and that rosey-vanilla makes it warm and rich rather than floral. While I wouldn’t exactly call it light, and I definitely wouldn’t have busted it out in our August heatwave, it’s a fragrance I’d turn to in the winter months when I’m craving an “old lady” scent (high praise from me) with both heat and an edge to it.

Source: all4myspace.com

There is only one review for Bodhi Sativa on Fragrantica. There, “Leathermountain” writes:

Before looking at the notes, I smelled chocolate ink. Once I saw the notes, I could smell both of them quite potently. Later, it was back to chocolate ink. Very close to the skin, and delightful!

As noted above, I’m not as enthused as the other commentators. My reaction surprised me as I enjoyed the opening minutes of Bodhi Sativa, and quite expected to love the rest. Still, if you’re a hardcore patch head like me, you may want to check out Bodhi Sativa. It has an old-school style that you may enjoy.

VANILLE BOTANIQUE:

Vanille Botanique is quite a different take on vanilla. In fact, you might argue that it’s really not a “vanilla” scent at all. Instead, the primary focus is on dark Tolu and Peru balsams which flow through the scent with the thickness and turgidness of the Amazon river. Vanilla brackets the river on either side, but the main focus is always on those very smoky, treacly, almost leathered resins. Ms. Hurwitz has said that she is not a huge fan of traditional vanilla fragrances and, here, she’s twisted the genre on its head to create a more grown-up interpretation of the note.

Photo: Christopher Martin. Source: christophermartinphotography.com

Vanille Botanique is also a 100% completely botanical fragrance which the DSH website describes as follows:

Vanille Botanique is a luscious, balsamic vanilla in the classical style. A soft jasmine heart and bergamot top note balance and round out the bouquet. Such deliciousness!

1 dram mini bottle of DSH perfume. Source: DSH Perfumes website.

According to Ms. Hurwitz and Fragrantica, the notes in Vanille Botanique include:

Top: bergamot, rosewood, mandarin, lemon;

Heart: grandiforum jasmine, Turkish rose otto, beeswax absolute, butter co2 extract;

Base: Vanilla absolute, Tahitian vanilla, Siam benzoin, Tolu balsam, Peru balsam, tonka bean absolute, civet, and labdanum.

Source: seriouseats.com

Vanille Botanique opens on my skin with lemon and bergamot in a flood of syrupy resins, infused with brown sugar, an almost boozy Bourbon-like vanilla, and a touch of regular, custardy vanilla. On the one hand, Vanille Botanique feels like caramelized creme brulée but, on the other, it is pure resin. The latter smells simultaneously like sweetened smoke, sticky treacle, leathered darkness, and a touch of cinnamon. Within minutes, the lemon grows stronger, pirouetting around the vanilla and transforming the caramel into lemon curd topped by a brown sugar crust that is singed and dark.

Lemon curd. Photo: The NUmmy Little Blog at thenummylittleblog.blogspot.com

The vanilla seems to melt more and more into the river of treacly resins. The almost boozy undertone fades after 5 minutes, replaced by the subtle suggestion of something lightly floral. It’s all very rich, dense, and sweet. Yes, it’s even syrupy, but it’s resin syrup — dominated by almost leathery, smoky, darkness – not vanilla syrup. The lemon curd is a lovely accompaniment, and is joined by bergamot to add a touch of fragrant freshness that reminds me of the Earl Grey aroma in another DSH perfume. Soft, sweet, aromatic rosewood lurks about in the distant background as well.

Vanille Botanique is very dense in feel and extremely strong at first, but it’s quite light in weight. For all that the visuals are opaque, the perfume itself is not. Its sillage is soft on my skin, as are all the DSH fragrances. Vanille Botanique wafts 1-2 inches at first, drops at the end of the first hour to hover an inch above the skin, then turns into a skin scent at the start of the 3rd hour.

The perfume starts to turn smokier and darker 30 minutes into its development. There is a leathered subset to the resins in the same way that there is in original, vintage Shalimar, which has one or both of the balsams in question. Vanilla feels less and less of a focal point, though you can see it peeking out from behind the veil. It’s a dry vanilla, like the kind in Mona di Orio‘s Vanille, but without the latter’s heavy butteriness. After an hour, the lemon curd fades away, Vanille Botanique turns softer, and a touch of tonka appears, reflecting its cinnamon and slightly powdered facets. It’s a mere blip on my skin, however, and doesn’t last long. The jasmine never appears at all.

Source: darkroom.baltimoresun.com

Vanille Botanique shifts slightly at the start of the 4th hour. The perfume turns drier, and even darker. There is a definite leathery undertone to Vanille Botanique now, but it also has a dirty quality that I don’t particularly enjoy. One reason is the civet which becomes quite noticeable at this point. The other is the undertone to the tolu balsam that I alluded to earlier in my discussion of Bodhi Sativa. The two together combine into an aroma that feels almost like raw tobacco juice, infused with civet and with that dirty, musky tolu. It’s far from my personal cup of tea, which is unfortunate as that dark, earthy, brown dirtiness becomes a fundamental aspect of the dominant balsams on my skin. Custardy vanilla? No longer. No real vanilla of any kind on my skin, actually.

Source: dianafabrics.com

Vanille Botanique soon turns into a blur of dark sweetness dominated by the tolu balsam’s leathered, musky, rather dirty facets. At the start of the 6th hour, the perfume feels like it’s almost all gone from my skin except for a pungent, resinous, half-sweetened smokiness, but Vanille Botanique clings on tenacious. For hours. And hours. Finally, 12.5 hours from the start, the fragrance dies away, smelling resinous to the very end.

My experience is quite different than that discussed in The Perfume Magazine‘s feature on Vanille Botanique. The very detailed review reads, in part:

Although there is citrus in the top notes, Vanille Botanique is introduced as a basalmic vanilla fragrance from the get-go. Red mandarin is the most apparent of the citrus essences, but not in a zesty or sparkling manner. Rather, it lends a light dimension to Vanille Botanique, alluding to the fact that this fragrance never becomes weighty or thick. Having said that, Vanille Botanique is most substantial in the opening which is redolent of an aged rum that has been distilled in wooden casks.

Vanilla courses through the boozy liquid but like Casmir and Spiritueuse Double Vanille it’s seamlessly blended so while there are caramel tones and hints of brown sugar, it is absent of a foody quality or saccharine sweetness. A peppery, nutmeg-like spiciness also helps temper the vanilla and move forward with the buoyant theme.

While it’s important to state what Vanille Botanique is, it might be even more important to mention what it is not. There’s no smoke, or incense, and yes there are woods and resins in the notes, but it is not a woody fragrance per se. By contrast, it is evocative of balsams that have infused the perfume as a whole[.]

Dark, sticky vanilla inside the pod. Photo: Vanillareview.com

The lovely Victoria at EauMG loves Vanille Botanique, calling it one of the most indulgent, decadent fragrances she’s experienced in the genre. Her review read, in part:

DSH Perfumes Vanille Botanique is the most decadent vanilla themed perfume that has ever touched my skin. It’s so rich and luxurious that I almost feel guilty wearing it because it’s one of the most self-indulgent, lavish perfumes ever created. And that’s why I love it.

Vanille Botanique smells so good the opening is a rich vanilla complimented by old-fashioned mosses and a hint of retro florals. But, trust me, this is all about the vanilla. The vanilla in this is sweet, balsamic, rich and palatial. There is a faint hint of citrus. The citrus isn’t fresh or glimmering. It’s more like an essential oil smothered by the balsamic richness of the vanilla bean. There is more to this fragrance than just vanilla, I can pick up on that. BUT I mainly get a rich, balsamic vanilla that is thick like syrup but not overly sweet. Actually, it reminds me of tolu balsam. So there is a hint of “amber” and benzoin in this balsamic glazed tobacco-like vanilla. It’s a linear scent like Guerlain Tonka Impériale. I don’t care if it’s linear because I smell good for 15+ hours wearing this lavish perfume. […][¶]

Give Vanille Botanique a try if you like rich, dense vanilla fragrances that do not smell like baked goods or synthetic. Give it a try if you like rich gourmands like Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, L’Artisan Parfumeur Vanille Absolument, Guerlain Spiritueuse Double Vanille and/or other gourmands by DSH Perfumes. This scent is a unisex vanilla like the ones I listed above. This is not a “light” vanilla, it’s super dense so keep that in mind. This isn’t sheer; it’s syrupy. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

Source: sharefaith.com

On Fragrantica, there are two reviews. The first talks about the labdanum aspect of Vanille Botanique, as well as the civet. Like Victoria at EauMG, “Sherapop” also finds a stylistic resemblance to L’Artisan‘s Vanille Absoluement, writing, in part:

DSH Vanille Botanique is a vanilla perfume for grown-ups. No sugar festival here whatsoever. Instead the scent is rather woody and oriental and barely sweet at all.

The labdanum is quite marked and there is some darkness imparted it appears by … civet! Well, this does not smell very animalic to me (maybe just a touch…), but it does smell very well blended and unisex. I find this just as well-blended as my favorite vanilla perfume, L’Artisan Parfumeur Vanille Absolument. This creation by DSH is akin to its savory analogue. [¶] Everything works together harmoniously in this composition, which I find to be a gorgeous wintertime perfume. [Emphasis to name added by me.]

The second review, however, is significant because it comes from someone who didn’t think the perfume lived up to the “vanilla” in its name and was a little disappointed:

The name…well a bit misleading. I would put vanilla way down towards the bottom of the list. This is all about the benzoin, labdanum & honey & a really unusual scent to me (maybe the civet). Oh, and I smell the rosewood, which I like. This is warm and honeyed but I’m not really sensing any florals. This is a very interesting perfume and I like that it is a bit different but unfortunately not what I was looking for.

I think her comment is extremely important because it highlights that Vanille Botanique is far from the conventional sort of vanilla fragrance. I disagree with a lot of the talk of vanilla in the other reviews because I think very dark balsams are the focal point of the scent. Ms. Hurwitz said as much to CaFleureBon, writing “I just love a good balsamic vanilla that is not really sweet but very, very rich and smooth.” I would add “very dark,” “musky,” and “smoky” to that list of adjectives as well.

In short, if you’re expecting a traditional, hyper-sweet, vanilla-centric scent, Vanille Botanique may disappoint you. This is not like some Victoria Secret or Mugler-style vanilla. It is a very dark, resinous interpretation of the genre that may be best suited to those who love amber and Tolu balsam in all its facets, including dark leatheriness and a treacly smokiness. Ideally, you should also enjoy a touch of muskiness as well. If drier vanillas on a deep, ambered base are your cup of tea, give Vanille Botanique a sniff.

Disclosure: Perfume samples were courtesy of DSH Perfumes. That did not impact this review, I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Bodhi Sativa and Vanille Botanique are offered in a variety of different concentrations and sizes. I tested the Eau de Parfum version of both. The two fragrances are available on the DSH Perfumes’ website. Bodhi Sativa is offered in: a 1 dram or 3.7 ml miniature-sized flask of Eau de Cologne for $18; a 10 ml EDC for $33; and a 1 oz/30 ml water-based concentrated spray for $58. The Pure Parfum Extrait version in an 5 ml antique bottle costs $105. Samples of the EDP are available at $5 for a 1/2 ml vial. Accompanying body lotions and creams are available as well. For Vanille Botanique, the pricing is as follows: 1 dram or 3.7 ml mini of EDP for $27; a 10 ml decant of EDP for $58.50; and a 1 oz bottle of water-based concentrated spray for $58. There are a ton of matching organic body creams, gels and massage lotions. In general, all orders over $10 will receive free samples of fragrances, with the number depending on the amount of your order. If you are outside the U.S., international shipping is available if you contact DSH Fragrances. As a side note, Vanille Botanique is also offered on Indiescents in the 30 ml EDP size for $135. Samples: in addition to the samples available on DSH perfumes, Surrender to Chance offers Bodhi Sativa starting at $3.99 for a 1/2 ml vial of EDP. Vanille Botanique is not available.

Nasomatto Duro

Posted on March 18, 2014 by Kafkaesque

“Fire Storm” by Marina Petro. Source: marinapetro.blogspot.com

Honeyed leather, spices and patchouli, dusted with cocoa, then infused with dark woods, tobacco, and a touch of smoke on a resinous amber base flecked by vanilla. That is one side to Nasomatto‘s Duro. The other might be the aroma-chemical bomb that is woven through every fiber of this perfume. Duro is one of those scents where I really wish I couldn’t detect a drop of aromachemicals a mile away, because I think I might like it otherwise. Unfortunately, Duro has such an enormous quantity of occasionally sharp, abrasive synthetics that it would probably drown a hound dog. And I’m not the only one who struggled with this issue.

Duro via Luckyscent

Duro is an extrait de parfum created by the Dutch niche house, Nasomatto, a brand which is best known for their cult masculine favorite, Black Afgano. It’s not easy to find details on Duro, when it was launched, or what precisely is in it. On its website, the company provides no notes, and simply says that Duro is intended to “enhance all the manifestations of male power.” I find that to be an asinine, obnoxious, and immature comment on a variety of levels. Plus, someone better not tell the legion of women who wear patchouli or spiced wood fragrances that they are somehow swinging a male organ, because that is the olfactory essence of Duro and that is also one of the implications of the company’s chest-thumping statement.

Source: imgfave.com. Artist or creator unknown.

Since there are no official notes for Duro, most sites simply list “leather, woods and spice,” as Luckyscent does. However, First in Fragrance always seems to have a company’s press release copy for a fragrance, and it provides the following description and olfactory notes for Duro:

Duro – The essence of male attraction
This composition concentrates the erotic essence of mythical masculinity and sexual attraction in itself.
Duro – A fragrance that directly and unequivocally shows the way with its overwhelming fragrance of sensuality.

Top Note: Agarwood (Oud)
Heart Note: Woods, Spices
Base Note: Leather, Resins

Leather tannery in Bangladesh. Source: ecouterre.com

Duro opens on my skin with a blast of animalic, slightly urinous leather slathered in honey. It is followed by spices and several, different, sharp aromachemicals. There is a chemical oud that smells a touch antiseptic, then something vaguely ambered (Ambermax? Ambroxan?) which has a rubbing alcohol twang. Putting aside the large quantities of those two extremely sharp notes, the rest of Duro’s opening bouquet is lovely. The animalic note isn’t fecal nor reminiscent of a barnyard. It’s musky and a wee bit urinous, though in an extremely subtle way. As a whole, the honeyed leather feels a little raw, uncured, and butch, but in the pretty way of LM Parfums‘ Hard Leather.

The spices are interesting. I tested Duro twice and, the second time, there was merely a generalized “spice” accord. However, during my first test, the bouquet felt quite multi-faceted, even if the spices were so fused together that they weren’t always easy to pull apart. As best as I could tell, there seemed to be the lightest touch of saffron, cloves, and black pepper, followed by a much more significant tonality of red chili pepper. The latter felt like another aromachemical in the sharpness of its fiery bite, but it was an nice counterbalance to the honeyed leather. I think I detected ginger as well — candied, dusty, and freshly pungent — but it was very muted.

During that first test, Duro began manifesting a dusty sweetness and an increasing touch of creamy woods less than 15 minutes into the perfume’s development. The woods felt almost as if some Mysore substitute had been used, supplemented by the spices. The note had a distinct gingerbread undertone that some sandalwood fragrances can have, even through artificial means. One example would be Chanel‘s Bois des Iles which is Chanel’s successful homage to Mysore, despite never actually containing any of the rare wood. Here, Duro briefly reflected the same sweet, spicy, gingerbread characteristics, but it was very short-lived and generally overpowered by that very synthetic oud aromachemical.

Source: 123rf.com

The second time I tested Duro, I didn’t experience either the wide range of individual, clearly distinct spices nor the quasi-sandalwood impression. Instead, the main note apart from the honeyed leather and the fake oud was patchouli. Lovely, true, original patchouli with all its spicy, red-gold-brown, slightly smoky, sweet facets. It was a touch earthy, but never dusty. It also occasionally showed a glimmer of the note’s green, camphorous side, though that sharpness may again have been the various aromachemicals wafting all around.

I’ll be honest, at times, it was extremely hard for me to detect the subtle nuances of Duro because they felt hidden behind an advancing phalanx of aromachemicals that acted as a wall or barricade at the very top of Duro’s pyramids. The first time was really difficult indeed, and I almost scrubbed Duro, especially as it gave me a profound headache whenever I smelled the perfume up close. I was relieved that Duro was better the second time around when worn on a different arm, but it’s only a question of degree. That said, I fully concede that my nose is much more sensitive to aromachemicals than the average person, and some of you may have no problems at all. (Then again, judging by the comments on Fragrantica, perhaps you might….)

Duro continues to shift as time passes. First, there is the arrival of a tobacco note. It’s dry, sweet, a little bit smoky, and, once in a while, has a tinge of an ashtray-like note on my skin. After 20 minutes, there is also the first whiff of labdanum. It feels a little synthetic and reminds me of the note in Black Afgano because it has the same cherry cola or root beer nuance. It is accompanied by a slightly plummy undertone as well, almost as if the patchouli were manifesting its purple, jammy, dark molasses facet.

Mark Rothko, #20 or “Black,brown on maroon.” Source: artsearch.nga.gov.au

The more significant change always occurs about 40 minutes into Duro’s development, when the leather loses its honeyed touch and sinks fully into the base. There, it remains as a constant undercurrent to the scent, waxing and waning in terms of its prominence. In one of my tests, Duro at this stage had shifted to a very oud-y, aromachemical woody fragrance with dark, fruited patchouli, a touch of chili pepper pimento, hints of gingerbread spices, and a rootbeer-like sweetness over a thin leather base. In the other, Duro was a brown (not fruited) patchouli scent with earthiness, sweetened tobacco, spices, abstract woodiness, aromachemical oud, amber, and spices on a leathered foundation.

Duro is a very concentrated fragrance in its overall bouquet, much as you’d expect from a pure parfum extrait. It is, however, much airier and softer than the notes would have you realise. There is a lightness to the scent, and the sillage is only moderate at first, before dropping to hover just an inch, at best, above my skin at the end of the 1st hour. It remains there for another hour, before turning into a skin scent. Yet, Duro’s overall bouquet remains largely unchanged as a whole.

In fact, Duro is an extremely linear scent, though I always say that there is nothing wrong with linearity if you love the notes in question. The individual elements fluctuate in terms of their prominence or order, but Duro itself doesn’t change for a few hours. For the most part, it merely turns more resinous, ambered, and golden in feel.

“Novemthree” by Olaf Marshall. Source: vitaignescorpuslignum.blogspot.com

The biggest change occurs at the start of the 4th hour when new notes arrive on scene. There is, without any doubt in my mind, vetiver in Duro and I noticed it on both occasions when I wore the scent. There is also cedar. None of this is particularly surprising, as both elements are common companions to patchouli in European fragrances. Here, the vetiver is somewhat smoky and dark. In one test, Duro turned primarily into a vetiver-patchouli fragrance at the start of the 6th hour, lying atop a very arid aromachemical, ambered base that was resinous and a little plummy. The perfume felt simultaneously woody, sharp, smoky, and slightly leathered.

Source: Colourbox.com

It was a very different story the second time around when I tried Duro on my other arm. In that case, the patchouli remained as the dominant note from the end of the 2nd hour onwards, not the smoky vetiver. Duro was a blend of earthy patchouli with abstract spices and a hint of tobacco, lightly flecked by vetiver and cedar atop a warmly resinous amber base with a leather undercurrent. The scent was sweet, spicy, warm, a touch smoky, and very golden in feel. It became even better around the middle of the 3rd hour when the patchouli started wafting a cocoa powder heart. Vanilla started to stir in the base, adding to the prettiness. By the start of the 5th hour, Duro was patchouli, cocoa, amber, vanilla and aromachemicals, lightly flecked by vetiver and with a hint of cedar, atop a resinous, slightly leathered base.

Source: wallpapers.free-review.net

In both versions, the long, final drydown phase of Duro was largely the same: woody sweetness dominated by patchouli and abstract ambered warmth. There were differences in terms of how distinct or clear the individual notes might be, but as a whole Duro simply turned into some variation of a patchouli woody scent with different forms of sweetness (amber resins, vanilla, or both). The woods became increasingly amorphous, the leather largely faded away on my skin, and the spices melted into the patchouli which, in turn, became more fuzzy, warm, sweet, and vanillic. It was pretty, and lasted for ages. As a whole, Duro lasted just short of 8.75 hours in one test, and just over 9.75 in the other. The sillage was always soft after 90 minutes, and it generally turned into a skin scent after about 2.5 hours with 3 very large smears (or the equivalent of 2 small sprays from a bottle).

Source: androidcentral.com

On Fragrantica, reviews for Duro are mixed, with some people calling it a woody, resinous “masterpiece,” while others find it nice but far from unique, and a handful note Duro’s very chemical nature. A good number of people seem to have encountered the same sillage and softness issues that I did, as they had difficulty detecting Duro after a few hours. Here are a selection of the negative or conflicted reviews for the scent, many of which echo a common theme:

megachemical blast of wood…lasts nothing… the hole in your wallet will last longer!

Very synthetic smell. Didn’t project at all. Longevity was maybe 6 hours. I really can’t stand that sharp, medicinal, chemical oud scent you get from fake agarwood. I wore it a few times but it was no better than Montale [….]

Smells like vix rub … woody musky like a incense burning on wood in a hindu temple not something i would wear … drydown is a little better but all i can smell is that wood note

Duro, like the name suggests, is extremely hard on the nose. At least for the first hour or two it smells like a medicinal syrup with heavy woods. However, the dry down is fairly pleasant.

Oo no, I really don’t like this one, very strong and heavy woods of the bitter type. Also detect strange medicinal notes [….] Definitely prefer B Afgano.

I bought this bottle Dec 2012, at first i felt it was too medicinal, the oud and spice really strong, almost felt like i was in the operating room, but after several months i began to love the scent,,you have to get used to it, its a strong masculine spicey, leathery, oudy bomb!!

This is unique, bold, very strong, but sadly utterly unenjoyable to my nose. I smell some of the same dark (opaque!) resin notes in Duro as I do in Slumberhouse’s Norne… But with an additional cherry cough syrup accord layered on top.

A solid woody spicy and completely masculine fragrance which is very simple but well-made at the same time. [¶] The opening is a heavy and dark combination of smoky woods, some spices and a little bit of sweetness completely in the background. [¶] The smoky woody/leathery smell remind me of the smell of oud and there are noticeable amount of spices and some sweetness beside it. [¶] In the mid you have exactly the same smell which only gets smokier and woodier. [¶] Smell very masculine and bitter smoky woody, but smell very familiar too! nothing new or unique about it.

Source: alexlesterspersonalblog.blogspot.com

Others, however, adore what they think is the super-sized masculinity and testosterone of the scent:

A fantastic masculine perfume. Women scare of it I think! […][¶] Shortly a perfume not for human maybe, gorillas deserve it. You either hate it or love it and there’s nothing in between. This is one of the manliest fragrances I’ve ever smelt. Seems is made out of pure testosterone. [¶] For men who drink beer at morning and work with axe.

This is the most explosively masculine perfume I’ve ever smelled!! You couldn’t stop this from projecting if you held it at gunpoint and threatened it’s bottle. [¶][…] This perfume says: “WOOD, SPICE, LEATHER…B@TCH!!!! I’M A MAN!!!”

DURO!!!! [¶] The HARD ON of male perfumery! […][¶] If you like wood up the wazzoo this is the fragrance for you! [¶] Loud woodiness of dank strong Oud and a harder denser wood combined with it. [¶] Then there’s the spice it’s hard but not in a cooking spice type of way or even a hot chili kind of way, it’s dry woody spice…almost like the natural spicey scent that would come from a piece of exotic wood. [¶] This fragrance for me is absolutely everything I look for in a masculine powerhouse. The spice perfectly tones down the unpleasant quality oud can have. You know? that bit when it takes a nosedive after the initial almost sweet strange amber quality. [¶] Anyway…the price of this juice is high, extortionately high some might say but I still felt Duro was a worthy purchase because of how bold and strong this juice is. [¶] Longevity and projection are massive as you’d expect from extrait de parfum. [¶] It’s not especially unique smelling this one but what can I say? It has a certain appeal & I was charmed by it.

As you can tell from that last comment, Nasomatto fan boys love the brand’s macho reputation, though even they have to admit that Duro is not particularly unique.

Montale Aoud Musk via mychicstore.com

What is more interesting to me is the fact that a lot of commentators find Duro to be comparable to Montale‘s Aoud Musk. Nay, actually “identical to” the latter, in several people’s opinions. I haven’t tried Montale’s Aoud Musk, but if it’s true, then that would certainly be a much cheaper purchase. Duro costs $185 for a mere 30 ml, while Luckyscent sells Montale’s Aoud Musk for $120 for a 50 ml bottle and for $170 in the 100 ml size. In addition, you can find Aoud Musk on numerous discount retailers for much less, making the price differential all the greater.

The other thing that I found noteworthy is a comment about Nasomatto’s dilution of its scents. I’m pretty sure the version of Black Afgano that I tried was altered to be much sweeter and less smokier than the fragrance of legend, but it seems that it isn’t the only one in the line to be so changed. A Fragrantica commentator called “Aphexacid” wrote in August 2013:

First, let me say that the rumor of Nasomatto watering down their perfumes is unfortunately TRUE. [¶] I purchased Duro and Pardon together, and they were both completely a shadow of their former selves. [¶] I got maybe 1 hour of moderate projection out of each, then it became skin scents. 6-8 hours later, gone.

What does Duro smell like? Its basically a weaker, less interesting version of Montales EPIC masterpiece “AOUD MUSK”.

Duro is lacking backbone.

If Duro has been diluted, that may explain why the scent I tested did not seem wildly masculine but, rather, felt like something that women could appreciate as well, if they had a taste for resinous, woody, patchouli, oud fragrances. I truly don’t think Duro is that much of a chest-thumping fragrance, though a number of men on Fragrantica would clearly disagree.

What a number of people would not disagree with is my view that Duro is as aromachemical as hell. Judging by all those references to synthetic, medicinal, antiseptic, “vix,” cough syrup, or “operating room” aromas, quite a few people picked up on it. In short, it’s not merely a question of me being abnormally sensitive. There’s nothing wrong with the judicious, light use of aromachemicals in a fragrance, but to have such a vast quantity in a tiny bottle that costs $185 when the fragrance supposedly is “identical to” a Montale? That’s a problem.

I really wanted to like Duro, especially as its notes should be right up my “patch head” alley, but it’s a complete pass for me. However, if you enjoy very resinous, woody fragrances centered on oud, patchouli, spices and amber, with a light streak of leather, then you may want to give Duro a sniff for yourself.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Duro is a concentrated parfum extrait (or pure parfum), and is generally sold only in a 30 ml/1 oz bottle. However, a mini 4 ml version is available directly from Nasomatto, who sells the 30 ml bottle for €118 and the 4 ml mini for €42. Nasomatto ships world-wide. In the U.S.: Duro retails for $185 for 30 ml. It is available at Barney’s, Bergdorf Goodman, Luckyscent, Neiman Marcus, and BeautyBar. Outside the U.S.: In Canada, you can find Duro at The Perfume Shoppe which sells the 30 ml bottle for $165. I think that is in US pricing. In the UK, Duro costs £108, and is available at Liberty London, Roullier White, Bloom Parfumery, and The Conran Shop. In France, you can find Duro at Premiere Avenue or Jovoy for €118. In Spain, you can find Duro at Parfumerias Regia, in Italy at Sacra Cuore, in Russia at what seems to be Nasomatto’s own Russian site, along with Orental.ru. In Germany, Duro is sold at First in Fragrance. In the Netherlands, you can obviously find it at Nasomatto’s own shop in Amsterdam. In Australia, you can find Duro at Libertine which sells the 30 ml bottle for AUD$220. In Hong Kong, Konzepp carries the fragrance. In South Africa, the Nasomatto line is available at Rio Perfumes. In the UAE, the line is sold on Souq.com. Samples: I obtained my sample from Luckyscent, but you can also find Duro on Surrender to Chance where prices start at $4.99 for a 1/4 ml vial. Samples are also available for purchase at many of the sites linked up above.

Histoires de Parfums 1826 (Eugénie de Montijo)

Posted on March 12, 2014 by Kafkaesque

1826 was a year notable for many things, the least of which was the birth of France’s last Empress, Eugénie de Montijo. 1826 is also the name of a perfume inspired by her life and passions, from a perfume house that seeks to capture history in a bottle. Histoires de Parfums is a French niche perfume house founded in 2000 by Gérald Ghislain, and many of their scents are entitled with just a simple date, the date of birth for a famous historical figure who serves as the perfume’s inspiration.

Empress Eugenie, official portrait via Wikipedia.

In the case of 1826, it is Eugénie de Montijo. She was born in Granada, and was a Spanish Grandee (or aristocrat) who became France’s last Empress Consort as the wife of Emperor Napoleon III. Empress Eugenie was renowned for her sophisticated style, jewellery, and fashion sense, but what Histoires de Parfums is encapsulating is her love of patchouli. Histoires de Parfums describes the perfume as a “sensual amber,” and writes:

The future and last French empress, Eugénie de Montijo, was born in Granada, the jewel of Andalusia. A sparkling beauty, her seductive nature and temperamental elegance delighted Napoleon the third. This beautiful lady who influenced the mundane life and artistic refinement of her time inspired this luminous fragrance, a sensual amber carried by the power of white flowers and patchouli, of which the empress loved the unforgettable vapor trail.

Originality: mix of anis and amber.
(Eugenie de Montijo was voluptuous, full-bodied and delicate at the same time).

Top Note: Bergamot, Tangerine
Heart Note: White Flowers, Violet, Cinnamon, Ginger
Base Note: Patchouli, Amber, Incense, Blond Woods, White Musk, Vanilla.

Source: Luckyscent

1826 opens on my skin with sharp, clean musk and citruses that immediately give way to a creamy, milky patchouli. It is infused with vanilla, and the tiniest pinch of cinnamon in a refined mix that glows a soft, warm brown. None of patchouli’s camphorous or minty green sides are present to any noticeable degree, at least not at first. Instead, this is a very milky, almost creamy and beige patchouli whose softness in the opening minutes calls to mind both Etat Libre‘s Nombril Immense and, to a much lesser extent, the drydown of Chanel‘s glorious Coromandel. As the momentary burst of citrus and sharp musk sinks into the base, incense rises up to take their place, adding to the tentative, small similarities to Coromandel.

Photo: puresilks.us

The differences are much, much greater than any commonalities, however. The main one is the total absence of any white chocolate notes in 1826, whether powdered or mousse-like. The incense is another substantial point of departure. There is extremely little of it in 1826, whereas Coromandel has almost as much smoky frankincense as it does patchouli. Perhaps even more so. Speaking of patchouli, the note in 1826 starts to slowly reflect a quiet earthiness which the Chanel fragrance completely lacks. In less than 5 minutes, 1826 takes on a subtle undertone of damp, wet, loamy soil. Under the surface, hints of tobacco bubble up, along with the tiniest suggestion of something green and camphorous. Both accords momentarily diffuse the milky aspects of the scent, but they are muted and very short-lived.

“Cosmic Swirls Beige” by Jeannie Atwater Jordan Allen at fineartamerica.com

15 minutes into its development, the creamy patchouli in 1826 turns plush and deep, feeling like velvet. The earthiness is extremely smooth and well-balanced. As a whole, the patchouli never smells musty or dusty, but turns lightly chocolate-y in nature. Thanks to the vanilla in the base, the overall effect is more akin like a dusting of milk chocolate powder infused with warm, sweet soil, a lot of milk, and hints of woodiness. Underlying that bouquet are subtle undercurrents of incense, spice, tobacco, and milky Chai tea, but the primary impression is of a vanilla-infused patchouli scent. It’s much sweeter, earthier, and warmer than the drier, incense-heavy, white cocoa Coromandel.

For the longest time, there really isn’t much more to 1826 Eugenie de Montijo on my skin. There are no fruited notes or tangerine, no ginger, no discernible florals, and very little cinnamon. The perfume is initially strong on my skin, but extremely airy, wafting in a sheer cloud that extends about 2-3 inches above my skin with 3 enormous smears. The sillage drops quickly, and it consistently takes between 2.25 hours and 2.5 hours for 1826 to turn into a skin scent.

Source: 123rf.com

I’ve tried 1826 a few times, and the perfume’s simplicity and linearity remains the same each time. 1826 continues as a milky patchouli scent until the 3.5 hour mark when hints of powder creep in, along with a return of the clean musk and an abstract woodiness. The musk does an odd thing to the woods, turning them cold and clean.

Slowly, the woody musk starts to take over. At first, it is an equal partner to the lightly powdered patchouli, but by the end of the 6th hour, it completely dominates the scent. 1826 is now primarily an abstract woody musk fragrance, with just a vestige of patchouli sweetness. The whole thing feels very nondescript and generic, with the tiniest hint of something soapy lurking deep in the base. In its final moments, 1826 is nothing more than a slightly sweet, woody cleanness. All in all, 1826 lasted just over 7 hours with a small quantity, and 8.25 with a heavy dose.

1826 has received mixed reviews on Fragrantica, though the majority seem to like it. One person experienced a much more complex scent than I did, as evidenced by this review:

it is quite beautiful and I wouldn’t mind owning a bottle. The top notes include orange, which complements the heart notes of cinammon and ginger beautifully. Rounding out the heart are creamy white flowers and a hint of sharp (not candied) violet. About an hour in, the base notes start to make an appearance, including a lovely, slightly sweet incense note. This is not an old medieval church type of incense, but a light, dry, modern incense, and it’s not added with a heavy hand. Instead the base notes of vanilla, patchoulli, and amber share equal footing with the incense, which I like. The combination is just right. Beautifully complex and layered, 1826 is a full blooded and heavy boned oriental in the absolute BEST sense.

Other people, however, experienced a “wisp” of a scent that barely lasted and which was far from full-blooded, though they did enjoy it greatly:

in my case […] definitely not a heavy oriental..it’s a beautiful wisp of a scent! The spices are very subdued, it’s a warm floral with a clean skin musk peeking out from under, thoroughly wearable. Not sweet at all nor old fashioned- very well blended as someone else mentioned.

1826 starts quite heavy and spicy, reminds me of Ambre Sultan at this stage. But it only lasts a few minutes. [¶] Then it becomes more and more milky and vanillic, sweet, but stays transparent all the time. I think I smell something similar as in Clinique Simply – a bright accord of anise, which is not listed in any of them. It gives this fragrance a pale, lunar light. [¶] It’s so well blended … Absolutely nothing stands out. One light accord of patchouli, white flowers, amber, vanilla … [¶] Recently I’ve been so bored with spices and flowers shouting at me from almost every composition out there… [¶] And when 1826 touched my skin I felt like in a scented heaven. A Zen-like scent. Modest and modern at the same time.Sounds perfect? Yes, but it has 2 very serious drawbacks.
One: there’s almost no sillage! A true skin scent. I literally have to put my nose onto my wrist to smell it. You really have to use a lot, and still only YOU will be able to smell it … Pity, considering how beautiful it is and that I’d love to share its beauty with someone around …
Two: No lasting power! After 2 hours there’s no trail of it.

Well, I rather agree with him or her on 1826’s lack of body, not to mention the incredibly weak sillage, no matter how much you apply.

Source: Saveur.com

In terms of other assessments, male commentators find 1826 to be very unisex, while one woman (who clearly doesn’t like patchouli in general) found the perfume to be too masculine for her tastes. One poster thought 1826 was too earthy, another compared it to “cotton candy” mixed with a “vanilla milkshake,” while a third found the perfume “too powdery” with a soapy undertone. I can definitely understand a number of those assessments, especially the milkshake, though I think it would be a vanilla-cocoa-patchouli one that is only present for the first half of 1826’s life. As a whole, though, the general consensus on 1826 seems to be that it is not a patchouli bomb but, rather, “a very pleasant patchouli/vanilla/creamy white flowers mix with a hint of cinnamon, spice and powder.” I think that’s quite an accurate nutshell summation, even if the creaminess that I personally encountered wasn’t at all floral in nature.

I enjoyed parts of 1826 Eugénie de Montijo in its opening phase, but I find it hard to summon up a lot of enthusiasm for the scent as a whole. The clean, white musk simply ruined it for me, as did the problematic sillage and the banal drydown. On the other hand, the perfume is easy to wear, and those who enjoy lightly sweetened, milky, fuzzy, Le Labo type of scents may enjoy 1826’s approachability. It is definitely unisex, in my opinion; as one male Fragrantica poster noted, the perfume is actually more unisex than the 1969 fragrance that Histoires de Parfum categorizes as such. Obviously, you have to like patchouli to enjoy 1826, but you also have to enjoy some powderiness as well, in my opinion. So, if a milky, creamy, vanillic, slightly powdered patchouli scent with great sheerness, softness, and discreetness sounds like your cup of tea, then give 1826 a sniff.

DETAILS:

Cost, Availability, Decant Sets & Samples: 1826 is an Eau de Parfum that comes in two sizes: 2.0 oz/60 ml for $125, £75, or €87; or 4 oz/120 ml for $205, £125 or €145. (Further decant or mini-sized options are below). Both full bottle sizes are available on the Histoires de Parfums website, which also has a great sample program (6 samples of your choice) whose $20 price goes towards the purchase of a large 4 oz. bottle. Further details are available here as to how the process works. Shipping is free for all orders anywhere in the world for purchases over $130; below that, there is a $10 shipping fee. In the U.S.: 1826 is available from Luckyscent in both sizes, along with samples. BeautyHabit sells both sizes, along with a 14 ml decant for $36. Amazon offers 1826 in the smaller $125 size, and the 3rd party retailer is Parfum1. On the actual Parfum1 website, you can buy the small 60 ml bottle of 1826 as well as a 14 ml decant for $36. MinNewYork has the whole Histoires de Parfums line in the smaller 60 ml size, including 1826, but they are currently out of stock of the latter. The Perfume Shoppe (which has a Canadian division) sells 14 ml decants of 1826 for $36, but doesn’t list the full bottle. Outside the U.S.: In Canada, Etiket carries the Histoires de Parfums, though only a few are shown on their website. 1826 is one of them. In the UK, Roullier White sells a couple of the Histoires de Parfums line for £75 for the smaller 2 oz/60 ml bottle and £125 for the 120 ml size, but 1826 is not listed or shown. Elsewhere, Harvey Nichols doesn’t carry the full line, but they do have 1826 Eugenie in the large £125 size. In Paris, the full Histoires de Parfums line is available at Jovoy for €87 or €145, depending on size. You can also find select fragrances from the line in the small size at the Nose boutique in Paris. In the Netherlands, you can find the full line at ParfuMaria. For the rest of Europe, Premiere Avenue has all the fragrances in the small 2 oz/60 ml size for €87, with a 5 ml decant available for €9. In the large 4 oz bottles, you can find 1826 at First in Fragrance for €145. In Australia, you can find 1826 on sale at City Perfume for AUD$179 for the large 120 ml bottle, or for the full AUD$190 price at Peony Melbourne. For all other countries, the vast Histoires de Parfums’ Store Locator page lists retailers from South Africa to Korea, Sweden and Kuwait. Samples: You can find samples at a number of the retailers linked to above. Surrender to Chance offers 1826 starting at $4.99 for a 1 ml vial.