Areej Le Doré (“ALD” or Areej“) is as, some of you know, my favourite artisanal brand. Today, a look at Antiquity (which I went gaga for), War & Peace, a stellar fragrance, and the bright, easy, sunlit Siberian Summer. All three Series 5 fragrances are excellent but, alas, now out of stock due to being limited-edition releases. Still, I thought my old 2019 reviews might be of some value for those who ordered samples or bottles and who might like a detailed analysis thereof.
Chinese Oud, the latest release from Areej Le Doré, is a perfect example of a self-taught perfumer honing and refining his style over time to become the equal of many professional, big house noses today. The opulent parfum is the result of a collaboration between Russian Adam and his friend, Jamira Oud, who distilled and worked on many of the rare Chinese raw materials, including wild, aged, nearly extinct Hainan agarwood which is considered by many collectors to be one of the top varietals in the world due to its unusual floral, fruity, and citrus tonalities.
I’m going to tell you upfront, right from the start, that I loved Chinese Oud and I thought that it was not only complex but also one of the more approachable, versatile, refined, non-blocky, and smooth floral leather ouds (or floral oud orientals) from Areej Le Doré.
There is not a person alive who has been unaffected by the wretchedness of 2020 and the pandemic that has dominated the list of traumas. I won’t even start to talk about the issues of this year because they are many and all hideous. But what about the escape methods for many of us during the best of times: scent? How much is perfumery still a big escape in the midst of one of the worst years in the 21st century?
Cuir de Russie, the upcoming S6 release from Areej Le Doré puts me in a tricky spot as a reviewer. On the one hand, it is one of my favourites out of the new S6 collection when worn on skin, evoking at different stages Roja Dove‘s Fetish Pour Homme, Jacques Guerlain‘s aesthetic in old vintage classics, and even Serge Lutens‘ Cuir Mauresque for a brief moment.
On the other hand, Cuir de Russie should NOT actually be worn on skin, due to its core ingredient of crude birch tar which is deemed inadvisable and unhealthy when in contact with the skin. In fact, the use of crude birch tar is flat-out prohibited in any fragrance that is intended for the skin. (Only rectified birch tar can be used, and in highly regulated levels at that.) Consequently, Russian Adam calls Cuir de Russie a “garment fragrance” and explicitly advises that it should only be applied to fabric. I did not follow the advisory and wore the fragrance both ways. I doubt I will be the only one to do so.
Which brings me to my dilemma: How do I write about a fragrance that is a singular monolith when worn in the way that is advisable and when that description would entail three short paragraphs but when the inadvisable, health-dangerous way would yield thousands of words of enthusiasm?