Neela Vermeire Creations Pichola

Posted on March 12, 2015 by Kafkaesque

“Cleopatra,” by John William Waterhouse via Wikipedia.

One fateful morning, Cleopatra sailed up the Nile to meet Antony on a barge whose billowing sails were made from gossamer-light orange blossom petals. Her white silk robe bore a long train made from even more orange blossoms, carried by her handmaidens, Neroli and Mandarin, who wear garlands of jasmine in their hair. The trio danced joyously and exuberantly, sending out a bouquet far and wide like a royal proclamation, one whose sweet floralcy was redolent with tart tanginess from green fruits and the zesty oils of the rind. The fruits’ sun-ripened juices poured off their bodies to drip below decks on sailors hewing oars of buttercream sandalwood and green vetiver. It was as though the Queen had captured every part of an orange tree — from the bright floralcy of the fresh flowers to the multi-faceted fragrance of its fruit, the green leaves which surround them, and the wood which bears them on the tree — and made them all genuflect in worship before enveloping her like a protective shield.

Artist unknown. Source: ldmark.com

As the barge moved up the Nile, the scenery changed and the mood softened. The white-blossomed sails now merely fluttered in a soft breeze; the pulvarizingly energetic, zesty, brightness of the wild Bollywood music became a slow dance; and the Queen of the Orange Blossoms lay languidly in sensuous repose on a pile of greenness as a golden haze of velvety ylang-ylang and sweet jasmine hung heavy in the air. The barge itself almost seems to melt into creaminess, and the water glistened with a shimmering of benzoin powder. They occasionally passed bits of driftwood, overly desiccated and oddly out-of-place, but they were small pieces that soon passed out of sight. When they arrived at the meeting place, the barge docked and you could see its name: Pichola.

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Santa Maria Novella Caprifoglio (Honeysuckle)

Posted on September 6, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Honeysuckle or Caprifoglio. Photo: pphotography-blog.blogspot.com

Honeyed nectar curls like a ribbon around green neroli, sweet orange blossom, and lush jasmine in a fresh, airy cologne. That is one aspect of Caprifoglio, a scent from Santa Maria Novella whose name means honeysuckle. Truth be told, I don’t think the name really fits the scent which, on my skin and that of a number of other people, isn’t really about the namesake flower. The mix of fresh, green neroli, sweet orange blossom, and lush jasmine is pretty, but I’m a little disappointed.

Santa Maria Novella (hereinafter sometimes referred to as “SMN“) is an Italian niche house based in Florence and one of the oldest actual pharmacies in the world. By many accounts, Santa Maria Novella is also the real, true source for the birth of cologne as a type of fragrance. You can read the full details of their fascinating, storied history going back to the 1200s and to Dominican friars in Florence in my earlier piece on the Farmacia (and its Ambra cologne). The house has been connected to everything from Catherine de Medici on her wedding day, to a marchioness burnt at the stake as the last “witch” in France, and marauding thieves who fought off the Black Plague. It’s really fascinating stuff, if you are a history junkie as I am.

Santa Maria Novella. Pharmacy salesroom today. Source: MuseumsinFlorence.com

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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.

Téo Cabanel Méloé: Summer Citruses & Freshness

Posted on January 29, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Portofino on the Italian Riviera. Source: yachtcharterfleet.com

It snowed here yesterday, after days of endless, bleak, icy greyness. For many of you, snow is hardly a big deal; for where I live, however, it’s akin to Hell freezing over. So, as a sign of rebellion, or perhaps as escapist fantasy against those miserable grey skies, I reached for Méloé, the one fragrance explicitly intended to represent “the heat of long-awaited summer days.” Mind you, I’m not all that crazy about my area’s particularly hellish version of summer, but I was suddenly in desperate need of sunshine in a bottle. And Méloé promises a “fresh haven” of all the best that the Mediterranean can offer, from Tunisian Neroli to Sicilian mandarin, from fresh basil to orange blossom and lavender.

Source: Hypoluxe.

Méloé is a creation from one of the most unsung gems in the niche world, Téo Cabanel, a Paris niche house whose history goes back over a century and a relatively unknown brand which consistently puts out extremely refined, polished perfumes. I have a huge soft spot for Téo Cabanel, as they make one of my favorite perfumes, the glorious oriental, Alahine (which is one of the few rose-based perfumes that I adore.) Alahine is fierce, potent, boozy, and with such intense spicy smolder that I often say it requires a form of Stockholm Syndrome to fall in love with it.

Méloé (which I’ll just write from here on out as “Meloe” for ease and speed) is the polar opposite of Alahine in every possible way. It’s as though Téo Cabanel intentionally sought to make Alahine’s counterpart with a fragrance that was a crisp, light, airy eau de toilette with the most easy-going nature. If Alahine takes you to a Moroccan souk spice market, and then to opulent palaces filled with lush roses and amber, then Meloe represents someone sitting in a café in Monaco wearing a cool, crisp shirt, and spritzing themselves with the aromatic cologne equivalent of a chilled lemon Perrier. They just chill and hang out, and, as the day progresses, the sun’s heat eventually brings out a musky, warm sweetness on their skin. It’s all very easy, smooth, and polished, but none of it is complicated, edgy, or heavy. It’s not meant to be.

David Niven relaxing on the French Riviera. Source: therakeonline.com

Freshness and lightness is such an intentional part of Méloé that the fragrance was even originally called Méloé Eau Légère or, in some listings, Eau Fraiche. Emphasizing the point even further, Meloe is an eau de toilette in concentration, not an eau de parfum like Alahine. Meloe was created by Téo Cabanel‘s in-house perfumer, Jean-Francois Latty, and was released in 2008.

The company describes the perfume as follows:

In the heat of long-awaited summer days, the Méloé lover has found a fresh haven. Her elegant summer signature is underlined by her light, green, fruity eau de parfum.

Méloé’s Epicurian symphony generously draws its top notes from citrus and spices. Bergamot from Calabria, mandarin and lemon from Sicily, lavender and basil play their part in perfect harmony.

The sparkling citrus notes linger until a dainty floral bouquet of Neroli from Tunisia, orange blossom and jasmine with just a touch of nutmeg comes to full bloom to make up the heart notes.

Unexpected sensual base notes of musk, amber and just a hint of woody notes. Lavish elegance and mystery, Méloé fully reveals its modern and distinctive character

Meloe is categorized as a green, fruity floral, and First in Fragrance offers the full list of notes:

Top Note: Bergamot, Tangerine, Lemon, Lavender, Basil

Heart Note: Neroli, Orange Blossom, Jasmine, Nutmeg

Base Note: Musk, Ambergris, Woods. [Some places mention “crystal moss” as a base element as well.]

Source: 550px.com

Meloe opens on my skin with a strong blast of bitter neroli, followed by unsweetened tangerines, and crisp, zesty lemon that feels much like the oils from a peel that was freshly grated. There is also one of my most hated notes in perfumery: lavender. As many of you know, I’m a lavender-phobe, and, yet, I actually like the note here. It is sharp, but also soft. More importantly, it doesn’t smell like the revolting, dried kind with its concentrated, vicious pungency. Instead, it smells more aromatic, like the plant in nature and in bloom. The lavender weaves its way throughout the various citrus notes, and the whole thing is sprinkled with peppery elements and a good pinch of bitter nutmeg.

The overall effect is to create something that is very brisk, incredibly bright, and fresh, but also somewhat spicy. None of it feels like a “fruity floral,” thank God. That is a category of perfumes I rather dread, for the modern sort are all too often dripping with goo, syrup and sweetness. And I have to admit, for a good half of Meloe’s lifespan, I find myself perplexed by the categorization because Meloe feels like a really fantastic cologne.

Source: societeperrier.com

It’s not only the fougère-like traits of using cool lavender, citruses, green herbs, and woods, but some sort of ineffable quality that reads “unisex cologne” to me. Meloe’s fruits are refreshing and unsweetened, dominated more by crisp lemon and bitter neroli than by any heavy, sweet, juicy oranges, and the whole thing is definitely aromatic with the very dominant lavender note. Yet, it never feels masculine or akin to an old-fashioned barber-shop scent. Perhaps it’s because the lavender lacks the aggressive pungency of the sort often used in masculine colognes, or perhaps it’s because the notes are all very well-balanced. My greatest impression is of something sunny and yellow, but also chilled like Perrier — Perrier that merely happens to be infused by lemon peels, neroli, lavender, and nutmeg.

Nutmeg. Source: Kootation.com

As the minutes pass, Meloe starts to change. The nutmeg softens its early forcefulness and loses some of its bitterness, as does the neroli. At the same time, the basil makes a tiny appearance on the sidelines, but I have to confess, I wish there were more of it. It’s so subtle, I sometimes feel I’m imagining it. The tangerine feels muted, such that I’d never smell Meloe at this stage and think “orange fruits,” but I think it has an indirect effect that helps ensure the more bitter elements are kept in check.

Perhaps its subtle sweetness is why Meloe loses some of its bright zestiness after 10 minutes and starts to feel much less brisk. The lemon no longer smells like you just dug your nails into the peel and grated the skin to release bitter oils. It’s smoother, thinner, and softer. The neroli starts to turn more abstract, too. At the same time, a hint of woodiness creeps into the top notes, perhaps from the unspecified “woods” listed for the fragrance.

Whatever the reason, Meloe settles into being a much smoother, lighter, seamless blur of crisp citruses and lavender aromatics that are perfectly balanced with a quiet spiciness, subtle woodiness, and hint of bitterness. It’s odd how the notes overlap each other and feel almost as if they lack delineation, yet, when smelled up close, you can still pull things apart. By the same token, Meloe sometimes feels very thin and sheer, yet it initially projects about 3 inches above the skin and is very rich up close. I have to think that the current arctic weather in which I’m testing the fragrance is hampering it to some extent. I suspect this is one perfume that would truly bloom in the summer heat for which it was intended.

Orange blossoms via the Pattersonfoundation.org.

As some of you may have noticed, I’m in the midst of doing a series on floral fragrances, and Meloe is technically supposed to focus on orange blossoms. Well, on my skin, and perhaps due to the current freezing temperatures, the flowers don’t make an appearance until 90 minutes into Meloe’s development. Even then, they are extremely delicate. Instead of the heavy, lush, ripe, indolic sort of orange blossoms that you often encounter, the ones here feel like the young buds on the actual tree. There is a crisp, Spring-time vibe, a softness that separates Meloe’s fresh take on orange blossoms from something like Serge Lutens‘ Fleurs d’Orangers. These flowers never feel syrupy, mentholated, blackened, or concentrated. In fact, they’re quite muted and restrained. At times, there is the faintest suggestion of an expensive orange blossom soap underlying the notes, or perhaps it’s the odd sense that these flowers are virgin clean.

The actual orange fruit lurks behind the flowers, more akin now to a sliver of fresh, baby tangerine than to any bitter oils from the rind. The bitterness of the neroli has also vanished, but its slightly piquant woodiness remains. As a whole, Meloe is now primarily a very cool, thin blend of soft, clean orange blossoms, crisp lemons, and baby tangerines in an aromatic, woody nest. It still feels like a light, delicate eau de toilette that has been stuck in a refrigerator, but it’s not quite as crisp or zesty.

Source: Telegraph.co.uk

Sometimes, one has the sense that the different stages of Meloe capture the different parts of the full citrus tree. The fragrance starts first with its unsweetened fruit nestled amongst cool, waxy, bitter green leaves and petitgrain twigs, along with the equally bitter, piquant aspects of neroli and the aromatics growing all around the plant. Later, though, Meloe moves up to focus on the tree’s youthful blossoms, tossing in a dash of now sweetened baby mandarins, and a whisper of abstract warmth. As for the lavender, it is now quite nebulous in feel, adding merely a touch of aromatic freshness.

Source: fantom-xp.com

All lingering impressions of a cologne fade away at the start of the third hour, when Meloe turns into a more floral fragrance with unsweetened fruits and lingering traces of woody aromatics. The sillage slowly drops and, by the end of the 3rd hour, Meloe lies right on the skin. It becomes a skin scent about 4.5 hours in. Around the same time, the tangerine and orange blossoms surge to the foreground, taking over completely. The two notes are accompanied by a soft, musky warmth, though it never reads as actual amber to me, let alone ambergris. There are the tiniest flickers of something woody and aromatic in the background, but they are very indistinct.

Source: singer22.com

The whole thing is very soft, sheer, and pretty. It’s very simple, yes, but also elegant, polished, and easy-going. It has a very relaxed summer vibe, like someone hanging out on a boat and sipping cocktails on the Cote d’Azur after a long day in the sun. Their skin holds the tiniest traces of the crisp citrus, orange, and lavender notes of their early morning cologne, but the summer heat has evaporated their chilled freshness, leaving behind only their sweetened essences on warmed skin. In its final moments, Meloe is merely a blur of oranges with a vaguely woody feel. All in all, it lasted 10.5 hours with 3 medium-sized dabs, which is excellent for an eau de toilette.

Téo Cabanel clearly had a very specific goal and feel in mind in creating the perfume, and I think they accomplished it really well. Nothing about Meloe is uber-complicated, let alone rich or heady, but it’s not trying to be with a name like “Eau Légère.” Yet, Meloe still has more body and depth than many Eau de Toilettes that I’ve tried (not to mention quite a few eau de parfums). Plus, it’s very reasonably priced (between $50-$70 for the smallest bottle, depending on where you buy it) with moderate sillage and good longevity.

Putting all that together, Meloe comes across as straight-forward simplicity with absolutely no pretentiousness at all, something I really like a lot. Meloe may have easy affability and versatile freshness, but it is also a very polished, refined take on a summertime citric-floral. It’s not quite as simple as it may appear, and it certainly feels more nuanced than some fragrances in this genre. In fact, as compared to many commercial “fruity-florals,” especially the syrupy fruit-chouli messes that you find in department stores, Meloe is almost a paragon of sophisticated complexity.

The thing that I keep thinking of is Creed’s much-hyped Aventus, which is really another twist on a fruity-florals with aromatics. To be clear, the two fragrances are very different in terms of their flowers and fruits, as Aventus is centered on pineapple, apple, ashy birch, and citruses, among other things. Meloe is initially much more lemony, aromatic and unsweetened, with a very robust lavender that makes it fougère-like, before it later turning orange-based and warmer. In my opinion, it’s also actually much less thin, watery, and weak in projection than Aventus, and more unisex. Yet, both fragrances share the same spirit and goal of fresh, bright crispness where fruits are nestled into an aromatic, woody base. They may smell completely different, but they want the same things. And I prefer Meloe’s journey to that goal.

There are no blog reviews that I could find for Meloe, and the fragrance isn’t entered on Basenotes, so we have to rely on Fragrantica for other people’s perceptions or experiences. Interestingly, there isn’t a single negative review of Meloe. Everyone seems to enjoy it, whether it is a man who shares the scent with his wife, or women who normally can’t stand “fruity-florals.” In fact, many seem quite surprised to like it as much as they do, perhaps because Meloe really isn’t a “fruity floral” by modern standards. One commentator, “Mals86,” actually referenced colognes in her comment:

I generally struggle with citrus scents, and traditional cologne-formulas that are meant to be refreshing, like this one. But I found it light and pleasant, and indeed very refreshing: not too floral, not too lemony, not too fleeting. [¶] It was even better on my daughter, and makes a wonderful alternative to the fruity-syrupy stuff her friends are wearing.

Source: Chef Keem at chefkeem.squidoo.com

Another poster barely realized there was citrus in the perfume, and notes how well Meloe is blended:

Like Mals86 I always feel that citrus and I are no friends. But I got a sample today and tried it without knowing about the citrus. [¶] Well…citrus didn’t even come to my mind! I guess that it is because it is so very well blended with all the other notes that I wouldn’t detect it…
Might well be that the lavender calms down the citrus and spices and that, on the other hand, the citrus and spices lift up the lavender… [¶] Lavender on it’s own can be quite dull as if it was meant as an invitation to sleep without any dreams promised… [¶] Here dreams come alive while serenity remains… [¶] The amber warms up within the sillage so these dreams soon will float on the air that you’ll be happy to breath…

Smelling it, I see bright white clouds against a clear blue sky, I see Dolphins jump up out of turqouise coloured water with their friendly, smiling faces. [¶] Beautyful fragrance…

For everyone else, the citric burst was clear from the start, though some found it more fruity and sweetened than purely lemony crispness:

Méloé is obviously a great harmonic summer signature scent with spicy citric carnival in the beginning and intriguing soft light green fruity floral vibe with a naughty bread’ish faint sub-scent that tickles me! [¶] Without any hint of classic perfumery, it stand some steps higher than every fresh feminine perfume I know. The quality of citruses and lavender is superior. [¶] Méloé is chic, first class, easy going, generous and rich..

MELOE is like a windy summer day, it started with a sugary citrus and mandarin orange combo with bits of neroli and orange blossom. It was not too sweet, but more fresh fruity. The heart arrived with warm jasmine and amber. It dries down to a beautiful amber/citrus base, very light, but noticeable. [¶] I think MELOE is a very good floral fruity choice for summers for those who are too tired for synthetic mess most current floral fruity perfumes offer. This is a nice, natural, breezy and simple perfume

In terms of sillage, everyone notes that the perfume isn’t “overpowering,” and one person said the projection was “minimal,” with Meloe soon turning into a skin scent. For longevity, most people voted for “long lasting” (7h-12h) in terms of duration, and one commentator mentioned that it lasted 8 hours on her skin.

As everyone notes, Meloe is simple and breezy. It’s the furthest thing from challenging, bold, or edgy, and definitely not an original take on either colognes or fruity-florals. But it’s not trying to be any of those things. All it wants to do is to deliver a very elegant, polished take on a traditional genre. As Téo Cabanel told the Sniffapalooza magazine, their goal is create

scents in the true French perfume tradition, to rediscover the concept total sophistication. We take the greatest care in offering high quality products. The name Téo Cabanel is a promise of the quality of our essences and the elegance of our bottles and packaging. Our perfumes deserve the finest natural elements, 100% pure and natural.

For the price, I honestly don’t think you can beat Téo Cabanel for great perfumery with a very classique, elegant feel at a bargain price. It is one of the most unpretentious brands I’ve encountered, with zero flash and a lot of substance. They quietly dedicate themselves to creating high-quality, polished products in the French tradition, and just hope that someone notices. In fact, they seem quite humble about it all.

In the specific case of Meloe, I think if perfume were offered under the Creed or Tom Ford label, people would be falling all over themselves and proclaiming that they had found their new summer scent. It is definitely unisex, versatile, and something you could wear to the office. It is also simple, but it certainly feels richer to me than Tom Ford’s very bland citrus offerings in the new Atelier d’Orient line. And I won’t even start on the issue of Aventus, or some of Hermès’ colognes.

In short, whether you’re looking for year-long freshness, summer in a bottle, or an escape from “the heat of long-awaited summer days,” I definitely recommend that you give Meloe a sniff.

DETAILS:

All the Téo Cabanel fragrances in a sample set. Source: Téo Cabanel e-store.

Cost & Availability: Meloe is an eau de toilette that comes in a 50 ml/1.7 oz size that retails for $70 or €50, or a 100 ml/ 3.4 oz bottle that costs $110 or €80. You can order Meloe directly from the Téo Cabanel website (which also has a French language version), along with a Sample Set of all 7 Cabanel fragrances in 1.5 ml vials for a set price of €8.50. (There is also a 9 ml rollerball of Meloe that costs $28, but that isn’t commonly available except from the company.) In my opinion, the best place to get Meloe right now is also the cheapest: eBay! You can find the 1.7 oz/50 ml bottle of Meloe in the old glass bottles for as low as $50, while the larger 100 ml bottles go for around $75.

In the U.S.: Téo Cabanel’s U.S. retailer is Luckyscent which now carries four of the Téo Cabanel line, but Meloe is not one of them. The reason is that Téo Cabanel’s U.S. distributor is waiting for summer to bring out Meloe, and I’ll update this post when it does. It was actually extremely difficult for me to find an online vendor (outside of eBay) that currently carries this particular perfume. The Posh Peasant seems to have it, but it’s unclear to me if they are sold out. All their entries have the word “Sold” next to it. For those of you near Minneapolis, there is a store that already carries Meloe, but it does not have an online e-boutique. It is “La Petite Parfumerie” and the phone number is: (952) 475-2212 or you can email at orders@lapetiteparfumerie.com.

Outside the US: In Canada, Cabanel’s website lists Fritsch Fragrances as its primary vendor. In the UK, Téo Cabanel is usually carried at Fortnum & Mason’s, but I don’t see it shown online. Liberty’s sells Meloe in the 100 ml bottle for £75, and ships throughout the EU. Germany’s First in Fragrance sells Meloe for €50 or €80, depending on size. Another European vendor is Natural Skincare Emporium which sells the 50 ml bottle of Meloe for €59. In Denmark, Happel carries the entire Teo Cabanel line, including Meloe. I’ve also read that the perfumes are available at: the Hotel George V in Paris, Les Galleries Lafayette, Douglas (France, Lithuania, Russia) Kadewe Berlin, Oberpollinger Munich, and Albrecht in Frankfurt. For all other countries or specific cities, you can use the company’s Store Locator guide on their website.

Samples: Meloe is unfortunately not one of the Téo Cabanel scents carried by Surrender to Chance. However, the Posh Peasant Sampler Set which includes 5 of the Téo Cabanel scents, including Meloe and my beloved Alahine, starting at $15 for 1 ml vials. The other option is to order from Téo Cabanel website with their more complete, larger sized sample set that includes the new amber oriental release, Barkhane as well.