Roja Dove Amber Aoud

Posted on April 7, 2014 by Kafkaesque

No-one is immune from the oud trend, and that includes Roja Dove. One of his several agarwood fragrances is Amber Aoud which he describes as “sumptuous, mysterious sensuality.”

Amber Aoud in the 30 ml bottle. Source: Bergdorf Goodman website.

Amber Oud is an extrait or pure parfum that was released in 2012. It is centered on a rather straightforward, traditional combination of notes, with one small exception: birch tar. However, on his personal Roja Parfums website, Roja Dove focuses more on the resins underlying the scent:

“Sumptuous Mysterious Sensuality”
SOFT, SWEET, SPICY, WARM, and SENSUAL

“Many of the Gum Resins which have been used in perfumery for millennia originate from the Middle East. I took these materials and blended them with the exotic note of Aoud to create a scent which is both soft and sensual.” —Roja Dove.

INGREDIENTS
Top: Bergamot, Lemon, Lime
Heart: Fig, Jasmine, Rose, Ylang Ylang
Base: Ambergris, Aoud Wood, Birch, Cinnamon, Civet, Musk, Oakmoss, Orris, Patchouli, Saffron, Sandalwood.

Source: forwallpaper.com

Amber Aoud opens on my skin with a very traditional saffron, rose, oud combination, followed by smoky birch that has a slightly leathered nuance, a soft and golden amber, and a tinge of muskiness. The birch is really the best part for me, as it elevates Amber Aoud beyond the usual rose-oud-saffron trio. That said, the latter is very deep and luxurious. The saffron smells both spicy and buttered, adding a red-gold richness to the scent. The rose is dripping red juices, rendered jammy and syrupy from a very fruited patchouli. And the oud feels refined, slightly honeyed, and extremely smooth. Out of the three, the agarwood is actually the mildest and softest element, coming in third place in a way that would make Amber Aoud appealing to those who aren’t fond of hardcore oud scents.

There are other elements hovering about as well, though none of them are very profound. Tiny slivers of bergamot dart about, along a dash of cinnamon. Both die out within minutes on my skin. More noticeable, however, though still slight and muted, is the fig note which is both milky and faintly leathered. As a whole, Amber Aoud is primarily a saffron-rose-oud trio, flecked with a gentle, woody birch and anchored upon a very soft base of amber. The latter feels very abstract to me, as it doesn’t smell like true ambergris to my nose with its salty, marshy, slightly sweaty qualities. This is more of a simple golden softness that adds to the overall richness of the scent. It’s all very sweet, jammy, buttery smooth, slightly musky, and a tiny bit woody.

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

I want to talk upfront about something that long-time readers know full well. I’m not really one for rose fragrances as a general rule. However, I strongly dislike fragrances where the roses have been rendered jammy with a fruited, almost grape-y, purple, syrupy patchouli touch. (Fruitchouli must die!) Making matters worse, I’m completely burnt out on the rose-oud or rose-saffron-oud combination. In short, if you sense a flatness in my tone when talking about Amber Aoud, you need to put it into context. I wasn’t blown away by the perfume when I smelt it last year in Jovoy, and I’m not now. My personal tastes simply don’t tend that way.

“Bleeding Rose” by April Koehler. Source: redbubble.com

That said, I would be the first one to tell you that Amber Aoud is an incredibly smooth, luxurious take on the combination. If I were ever to like a patchouli-rose fragrance with saffron and oud, this might be on the list just after some of the Amouage attars. Every note in Amber Oud’s opening ripples like rosy velvet and liquid gold onto the skin, speaking of wealth and luxury. It’s not particularly original (or interesting), but then it’s not supposed to be. Amber Aoud is supposed to be the smoothest, most refined, softest interpretation of the classical, traditional standards — and it succeeds in that regard.

Silver birch tree. My own photo. Fjällnäs, Sweden.

The part that I like the most continues to be the birch. After 10 minutes, the note actually smells more of the wood itself than the way birch usually manifests itself in fragrances, which is either campfire smoke or tarry, black leather. The latter shows up at the end of the first hour, but the early nuances are really intriguing. There is almost an aromatic outdoorsy quality to the woodiness that evokes smooth tree bark. The tiniest whiff of black smokiness lingers underneath, but generally the smell transports me back in time to a silver birch forest I walked through in northern Sweden near the Arctic Circle. The whole thing works beautifully alongside the patchouli-rose, saffron, and oud combination, and feels like a completely original touch.

The second lovely aspect to Amber Aoud is the fig. It doesn’t last long, perhaps 20 minutes at most, but while it’s there, it adds subtle depth to the perfume. Part of it smells a little leathery in the particular, spicy way that fig can be, but the majority of it is just sweet milkiness. It contrasts well with the buttery spiciness of the saffron and the dripping jamminess of the rose, helping to keep those other notes in check. Once the fig fades away at the 30-minute mark, Amber Aoud turns even sweeter and richer. The patchouli-rose seems to take over, quite overshadowing the oud on my skin and not even the increasingly smoky touches of the birch can cut through the perfume’s ruby sweetness.

Amber Aoud is quite concentrated in feel, but not as much as other Roja Dove Extraits that I have tried. In fact, I’m a little surprised by how soft the projection is, right off the bat. Two really large sprays from my atomizer (amounting to one extremely big spray from a bottle) yielded only 2 inches in projection, at best. In contrast, similar amounts of Diaghilev, Fetish, and Enigma or Creation-E all had stronger sillage at a comparable stage in time. Actually, I didn’t spray Diaghilev at all but merely dabbed it on, and, yet, I remember it to be substantially stronger in both feel and projection. In addition, all of those fragrances took far longer to turn discreet. Amber Aoud hovers a mere inch above the skin at the end of the first hour; it turns into a skin scent 3.25 hours into the perfume’s development, though it’s still easy to detect up close.

Source: RGPeixoto on Flickr. (Website link embedded within photo.)

Amber Aoud’s core essence doesn’t change for a few hours, but the notes rearrange themselves in terms of their strength, prominence, or order. After the fig fades away at the 30-minute mark, the primary bouquet is a jammy patchouli rose with saffron and light oud, all flecked with birch and nestled in a soft, golden haze. The birch turns smokier and slightly tarred in feel at the start of the second hour, losing its more woody facets in favour of a subtle leatheriness. The rose becomes even richer and more syrupy, but the saffron begins to weaken. At no point do I smell any civet, oakmoss, jasmine or ylang-ylang on my skin.

Source: voguefabricsstore.com

The most noticeable change is a growing creaminess underlying the scent. 2.25 hours in, the sandalwood rises from the base, though it smells nothing like the Mysore wood and is generally just creamy smoothness. Actually, I detect a subtle vanillic undertone to it, though I can’t explain it. The birch now joins the jammy rose and the oud as the dominant trio, while the saffron limps off to the sidelines. Amber Aoud feels much airier and lighter than it was at the start, and it lies right on the skin.

Source: voguefabricsstore.com

3.5 hours into Amber Aoud’s development, the perfume shifts. The rose loses a lot of its patchouli jamminess, turning into an infinitely soft, sweet, pink note with only light touches of smoky birch and oud over an extremely creamy base. I refuse to call it actual “sandalwood,” but it’s lovely, especially with the tiny slivers of vanilla. None of it feels ambered in a distinct way, but there is a gentle glow around the rose petals that increasingly coat the skin like a layer of fine silk.

Source: wholeblossoms.com

Amber Aoud remains that way for the next few hours, softening further until it’s primarily just a creamy, sweet rose scent. The petals are dusted with the lightest, sheerest layer of powder, presumably from the orris/iris, while a lingering trace of oud hovers at the edges. There is no birch — either tarry or smoky — and no muskiness, only a general sense of creamy softness. Again, I’m not a rose lover, but I’d almost call the overall effect “graceful.” Something about Amber Aoud’s final drydown really evokes pink and cream petals falling from the sky to softly, gently, daintily land on the skin. It’s all a gauzy wisp, and it fades away entirely in a blur of rosiness approximately 8.75 hours from the start.

Source: amideastfeast.com

Reviews are mixed for Amber Aoud on Fragrantica. Some people share my feeling that the perfume is neither particularly ambered nor unique, and one person also thinks that it is encumbered by that jammy fruitchouli, but others think it is stunning and wonderfully luxurious. First, some of the more ambivalent or critical opinions:

I was pretty unimpressed by this one. I love Roja Dove Aoud, so I had high hopes for Amber Aoud. The opening smells to me like concord grape jelly smeared on a slice of oud. The overwhelming sweetness dries down after about half an hour and it’s a very nice smooth oud, but I get no amber in this. Also, longevity on me was terrible, maybe 3 or 4 hours tops. My husband liked it, but was surprised when I told him it had oud in it.

I’d say that this to me is much more a Rose Aoud than a properly Amber Aoud. It doesn’t have the thick, vanillic and incense aura that you would expect from a classic Amber approach, and it also doesn’t have the woody, light, sometimes plastic modern aura that you get from woody ambery bases. Leaving this aside, this is a good, silky and rich aoud and rose orchestration, surrounded by a velvet suedish touch which lingers discretly on skin. Altough the fragrance seems to be more complex, it relies basically around these three facets, creating an harmony which is very pleasant to be noticed all day. It has a great longevity, a small sample lasted all day on me, and while i see a lot of quality on here, it seems to me very safe, something made for the one which is willing to pay for quality and wants and oud rose orchestration which softens the rough aspects of this noble wood. It’s at least worth a sample.

This fragrance is very nice, but its a traditional oud for almost £500, its not worth it. maybe if you are not custom to the smell of this type of warm musky oud you might find it unique. but for those from middle eastern backgrounds, you have smelt this many times before, some Mosques and Arab book/perfume shops smell similar to this fragrance, of course this is much much higher quality, you can definelty smell the quality of the ingredients , but its that type of traditional oud smell that you would smell often if you visited an Arab country. a disappointment for me I am afraid for the price[….]

Photo: my own.

On the other side of the aisle are the fans who think very little can compare to the luxuriousness of Amber Aoud. Some excerpts:

A very clean oud with a smooth and well rounded amber. From the moment I sampled this fragrance, I knew that I would do what it took to obtain a bottle. Even if it meant saving and making this my #1 priority, I just had to have it. This fragrance smells of incredible and undeniable quality. If you have ever smelled Krigler “Oud for Highness” you would agree that these two share similar qualities being that the scent is so royal, rich, and luxurious. I am at a loss for words on how to accurately describe how divine this fragrance is.

Sensual,noble,velvety feel almost physically,my most favorite perfume,very expensive,but everything is expensive for this work

This is a royal oud blend! Honestly speaking! Royalty in a bottle!

Its very rich,very luxurious, super smooth. […][¶] until now I thought the best aoud could come only from the Gulf. I think aoud can not get better than this one. It’s so well blended. […][¶] I tried several other aoud and aoud combo perfumes and attars at Paris gallary and elsewhere at Dubai mall but everything else looked pale in comparison. [¶] Who can wear this and where? I think the sheer opulence of this scent demands an occasion and
formal dress.

Honestly, I agree with arguments from both sides. Amber Aoud is a luxurious take on a very traditional scent; it isn’t original (how can it be?); the quality does stand out; it does have a much stronger focus on rose than on amber; and there is an almost grape-like, jammy fruitedness that will be annoying for anyone who shares my loathing for fruitchouli. Yes, it is very expensive (more expensive than a number of Roja Dove scents, in fact), but the simple fact is that you’re paying for the Roja Dove name and the perfume’s quality.

Whether all of that amounts to a fragrance that is a “must try” or worth buying will really come down to your personal, subjective valuation and tastes. If you absolutely adore rich rose scents that have only the softest touch of a very refined, clean, smooth oud, then you may want to give Amber Aoud a sniff.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Amber Aoud Pure Parfum or Extrait is available in two size: a 30 ml/1 oz size which costs $435, €395 or £345; and a 100 ml size which costs $655, €655, or £495. There are also Crystal or Absolue Precieux versions available, along a candle. As a side note, I believe the Crystal version is the exact same scent as regular Amber Aoud, but merely with clear or white-coloured liquid. In the U.S.: Neiman Marcus carries Amber Aoud in both the small size and the big $655 bottle. Bergdorf Goodman also has the small and big sizes. Same story with Osswald NYC. Outside the U.S.: In the UK, you can buy Amber Aoud from Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie on the 5th Floor of Harrods, Harrods itself, the e-store at Roja Parfums, and Fortnum & Mason. In France, Jovoy in Paris carries Amber Aoud in both sizes. Zurich’s Osswald has Amber Aoud as well, but it doesn’t look as though they have an e-store. In the UAE, the Paris Gallery carries the Roja Parfums line, and sells both sizes. For all other locations, you can use the Roja Dove Locations listing which mentions more stores from Poland to Germany, Lithuania, Russia, and the Ukraine. I don’t see any Canadian, Asian, or Oceania vendors. Samples: If you’re in the U.S. but have no access to one of the stores listed above, you can order samples by phone from OsswaldNY. They offer a deal of 10 samples for $20 (shipping included) for domestic customers. Their phone number is: (212) 625-3111. Surrender to Chance does not carry the fragrance at this time.

Roja Dove Enigma Pour Homme (Creation-E)

Posted on April 6, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Rivers of brandy and tobacco flow out like tributaries to a sea made of spicy, crystallized ginger and dark plum molasses. An ambered wind blows, making the waves froth white peaks made of vanilla mousse, while the sky rains down cardamom, more ginger, and soft cocoa. Eventually, the brandy river dries up, leaving a sea of Christmas plum pudding that crashes onto shores of pure tobacco in a land called Enigma.

Source: listofimages.com

Roja Dove‘s Enigma Pour Homme is a regal, refined vision of spicy, sweet, boozy, dark and golden richness. The fragrance was released in 2013, but came to America under the name Creation-E due to legal trademark reasons. Some European sites simply call the perfume “Enigma,” which can be misleading as there is also a white-labelled women’s version, but the men’s fragrance is largely unisex in my opinion, despite its name. Enigma or Creation-E comes in two forms, an Extrait Pure Parfum version and an Eau de Parfum. This review is for the Extrait.

Enigma or Creation-E Pour Homme via Bergdorf Goodman.

On his personal Roja Parfums website, Roja Dove describes Enigma as follows:

“Mysterious & Compelling – Defy Expectations”
RICH, SOFT, WARM, SPICY, POWDERY, & SENSUAL
“The mystery of the name drove me to create a fragrance that seems to be all things to all people, but itself is certain and assured, whilst creating ambiguity in others”. Roja Dove

INGREDIENTS
TOP: Bergamot
HEART: Geranium, Heliotrope, Jasmine, Neroli, Rose
BASE: Ambergris, Benzoin, Black Pepper, Cardamom, Cognac, Ginger, Patchouli, Sandalwood, Tobacco, Vanilla.

Source: vk.com

Enigma opens on my skin with a potent wave of cognac and ginger, followed by spiced, dark fruits, more ginger, tobacco, black pepper, and cardamom. Seconds later, there is a note like the softest milk chocolate cocoa, then rich amber, a whisper of geranium, and drops of vanilla. The tiniest slivers of jasmine and a spicy, rich, dark patchouli pop up momentarily, then fall to the wayside.

Christmas Plum Pudding set on fire with brandy. Source: fooods.net

At its core, Enigma’s opening bouquet is spicy ginger in a sea of expensive, heady cognac, dusted by cardamom and infused with dark, juicy, fruits, all atop an ambered base. The walloping, hefty dose of ginger feels both like the spicy, slightly biting fresh kind, and the more sweetened, crystallized variety. It is conjoined with a strong fruited accord that feels like a touch of peach has been mixed into very dark plum molasses cooked with brown sugar. I don’t know where the accord comes from, as there are no fruits listed in the notes, but I’ve tried Enigma a number of times and “Christmas plum pudding” or “ginger sugar plums” is always an immediate thought that crosses my mind. Plum puddings are made with cooked or dried fruits, a lot of ginger and some cardamom, then drenched in brandy, so the association makes some sense.

Enigma’s strong spice basket never feels like a visit to an Arabian souq because of the powerful cognac and ambered warmth. The scent is richly brown, strongly boozy, and sweet, with an almost leathered undercurrent to the resinous base. The amber never feels like ambergris on my skin, but more like a full-bodied, deep, golden warmth that anchors the scent and makes me feel as though I should be sipping from a snifter on a soft leather chair before a library in a very opulent library. On the table beside me should be a pipe, stuffed with sweetened, slightly fruited tobacco but unlit because tobacco is not a central part of Enigma’s opening minutes.

Source: snappypixels.com

Other elements add to the vision of richness. The cardamom is very noticeable at first, and utterly lovely. On my skin, it verges on and replicates soft cocoa. While the main ginger scent keeps everything fresh and spicy instead of gourmand, Creation-E also feels as though everything has been crystallized in brown sugar. There is a definite molasses undertone running through the scent like a pulsating vein. Sometimes, it feels like caramel, thanks to the ambergris, but, mostly, it feels like brown sugar drenched in brandy.

Fille en Aiguilles. Source: Serge Lutens’ Facebook page.

The overall combination strongly reminds me of bits of other fragrances, all mixed together. The very first time I applied Creation-E, I took one sniff and immediately thought of Serge Lutens‘ fantastic Fille en Aiguilles. The latter has a definite ginger sugar-plum aroma atop a resinous base of brown sugar sap. Enigma feels like a super-saturated, heavy, second cousin to the Lutens fragrance, only without the latter’s strong frankincense or pine notes.

At the same time, however, Creation-E is built upon a plum pudding note with tobacco that called to mind Tom Ford‘s Tobacco Vanille. I did a side-by-side test one day. The Tom Ford fragrance lacks Enigma’s powerful brandy note, is substantially more vanillic, has touches of beeswax, and very little ginger. However, there is a subtle plumminess underlying all that tobacco and vanilla that feels like distant kinship. In short, if the crystallized ginger plumminess of Fille en Aiguilles had a three-way, torrid, sexual escapade with the tobacco vanilla of the Tom Ford and the hefty, fruited booziness of Kilian’s Apple Brandy, the love child might be Roja Dove’s Enigma.

On my skin, the core essence of Creation-E remains largely unchanged for the first few hours. There are small notes that come and go. The hint of geranium vanishes after mere seconds, though it pops up again at the end of the first hour for a brief moment, adding a peppered, leafy, green piquancy before it disappears again. The heliotrope lurks about in the background in the opening minutes, but never really makes a proper appearance on my skin. I don’t detect any rose at all, nor neroli. After 20 minutes, the jasmine creeps into the background, but it is extremely muted, subtle, and short-lived.

Kephalis. Source: Givaudan.

The tobacco is equally subtle at first, but it grows stronger with every passing minute. I have to be honest, this was a slightly difficult note for me, and I like tobacco a lot. When I first tested Creation-E, I dabbed it on and only in a small quantity. I was hit by a very distinctive aromachemical whiff. To me, it smelled like Kephalis, a synthetic that I’ve encountered 3 or 4 times before and which Givaudan describes as follows:

Kephalis is a very versatile and rich product, used as a long lasting heart/basic note. It blends well with floral notes (jasmine, rose, violet, lavender, etc.) as well as sophisticated amber, woody-aldehydic, tobacco and masculine creations.

On the other hand, there are any number of tobacco aromachemicals on the market with woody-ambered characteristics, and I’m certainly no expert on the subject. I don’t know which one was used in Enigma, but there is no doubt in my mind that the tobacco note is chemical.

Source: cigarettezoom.com

The second and third times that I tested Creation-E, I sprayed instead of dabbed, and I applied quite a bit. To my relief, the richness of the other notes drowned out that chemical harshness and left only sweetened pipe tobacco as an aroma. So quantity makes a distinct difference, at least at first, since the sharp dryness does reappear later. That said, I realise that my nose is much more sensitive to aromachemicals than most, and that the average person is completely unfazed by them, if they can even detect them at all. However, I can only recount what I smell, and I detect a tobacco whose aromachemical nature was very noticeable at times. I doubt anyone else would be bothered by it, so let’s move on.

Photo: Greg Meyer at coastalphotography.com.au

Enigma shifts and starts to change after 30 minutes. The vanilla grows stronger, turning into a deep, frothy mousse that is really lovely. The tobacco’s aroma-chemical twinge starts to creep around the edges, but it is easy to ignore at this point, especially as the perfume turns more golden, ambered, and warm. Enigma feels almost unctuous in its beautifully rich, completely narcotic depth, as if rivers of ginger, plum molasses, and pipe tobacco had merged with small streams of creamy vanilla to flow into a sea of brandy. Cardamom, black pepper, and amber rain down from above, while a lone dove of jasmine flies over, then vanishes out of sight.

The cognac is particularly intoxicating, but not in the singular and excessive way that Kilian’s Apple Brandy manifested itself on my skin. Enigma has massive body, like the most expensive, aged liqueur can have, with layer upon layer of other elements to create a multi-faceted bouquet. Yes, there is a hefty amount of unadulterated booze on my skin, but there is also a lot more, so that it feels as though I’m wearing actual perfume, not that I’ve accidentally slipped into a vat of Calvados or Armagnac.

Source: edchef.com

At the end of the first hour, Enigma is a tobacco-ginger plum pudding, dusted with more ginger, set in a sea of crème anglaise vanilla sauce, then drenched with brandy and set on fire. It’s a potent, rich bouquet with only 2 small atomizer sprays but the sillage isn’t overpowering. Initially, the Extrait pulsated out about 3 inches above the skin, but at the end of the second hour, Enigma drops to an inch above the skin. At the start of the 4th hour, it is almost a skin scent, though still extraordinarily rich and easy to detect up close.

Tobacco leaves. Source: pipesmagazine.com

Creation-E continues to shift by microscopic fractions. The cognac begins to fade away by the end of the 2nd hour, as the tobacco grows more powerful. By the start of the 4th hour, the booziness has vanishes almost entirely, though a lingering richness pops up occasionally at the edges for another hour. Enigma is now largely a tobacco vanilla scent with dark plummy fruits, dusted with ginger and other more amorphous spices, all atop a smooth, golden, ambered base. 4.5 hours in, the perfume turns drier and woodier in feel, centered mostly on spiced tobacco and ginger, lightly flecked by vanilla and dried fruits. It is also a complete skin scent by this point.

By the end of the 7th hour, Enigma is primarily a tobacco fragrance on my skin. It feels dry, dark, and with a nuance that is almost leathered. There is very little sweetness or vanilla, though a trace of gingered plums remains at the periphery along with a thin smear of abstract amber. To me, the tobacco smells aromachemical in nature with a harsh woodiness. Again, I doubt anyone else will feel the same way. Tiny flickers of benzoin and a vague hint of lightly powdered tonka appear in the last few hours, but they are very muted and muffled on me. In its final moments, Enigma fades away as a blur of woody tobacco. All in all, the Extrait lasted 10.5 hours on me with 2 small sprays from an atomizer (amounting to one big spray from a bottle), and almost 12 hours with more.

Roja Dove via Twitter.

I very much enjoyed parts of Creation-E. The richness of the cognac, spice basket, Christmas pudding opening was marvelously intoxicating. It all felt very regal, heady, and sophisticated. While I was unenthused by the aromachemical clamour of the tobacco, that actually wasn’t my main difficulty with the scent. It was that Enigma Extrait felt a little too monolithic and unchanging. On my skin, the core essence of the Extrait was primarily some version of ginger plum molasses with tobacco, and I found that a little tiring after a while. That said, I think Enigma would be lovely to wear once in a while in the winter. It’s the sort of scent that makes you feel like dressing up in a velvet smoking jacket, putting on a silk ascot, and taking out a pipe. In short, it makes you feel a little like you’ve suddenly turned into Roja Dove himself.

There is a lot of hype, buzz, and adulation for Creation-E out there. In fact, there is so much that I rather expected the perfume to fall short. It doesn’t, for the most part, though I don’t share the wild worship for the scent that many others do. Creation-E actually suits my personal tastes much more than the famous Diaghilev, perhaps because it feels more modern or perhaps because boozy orientals are more my style. Either way, I think Enigma is definitely worth trying for anyone who enjoys a scent that is a mixture of the best parts of Fille en Aiguilles, Apple Brandy, and Tobacco Vanille. It’s absolutely unisex in that regard.

Source: Basenotes

There are no blog reviews that I can find for Creation-E, but there is a lot of talk about the scent on different Basenotes threads, as well as some Fragrantica reviews. I hadn’t read any of them while I was tested the perfume, so I was interested to see that a number of people brought up Tobacco Vanille on Fragrantica. There, commentators are largely positive:

this has the most realistic tobacco note I have ever smelled. There are comparisons to Tobacco Vanille, but to be honest it does not remind me of TV at all. The sweetness isn’t there, the spicy potpourri scent isn’t there…This is just…Well, better. [¶] To be honest, this reminds me EXACTLY of a Coca-Cola slushie from Target, with a tobacco note added…In a good way. [¶] Also, there is a lightness (but potent, make no mistake)to this that makes it wearable almost all year round, excluding extremely hot days. I could see this being worn on a cooler summer night even. [¶] Definitely, DEFINITELY full bottle worthy for me.

The opening is similar to Root Beer Soda.
Its okay. If I compare it to the Roja Dove line, it’s better from the bunch.
Probably the only almost original scent.
The other fragrances of the Roja Dove line are knock offs, of less quality and less less appealing of Guerlain and Amouage.

To me this fragrance centres around the cognac experience. The opening is most certainly boozy with the cognac unravelling its characteristics slowly. [¶] Milder spices such as pepper and ginger fuse together with the raw sweetness of vanilla. I also get a floral note amidst this composition. A pipe tobacco lingers throughout combining well with the wetter elements of cognac.

THE TOBACCO VANILLE KILLER! FOLKS, IF YOU HAVEN’T TRIED THIS YET… PLEASE DO! ESPECIALLY IF YOU LIKE TOBACCO VANILLE. THIS HAS AN COGNAC TWIST TO IT, THAT’S ALL.

Source: dailymail.co.uk

Perhaps the most useful assessment comes from a chap called “Taskphorce” who compares Enigma in the Extrait version that I’ve talked about here with the Eau de Parfum concentration. His review reads, in part, as follows:

The cognac is so authentic and attractive and a friend who interviewed Roja Dove informed me that Roja incorporated actual extracts from a Cognac distillery into this fragrance. The Eau de Parfum seems to hold the Cognac note throughout the entire fragrance whereas the Extrait seems to turn slightly floral in the base. Regardless, both strength’s are of high quality and the differences are insignificant. In the base, I am detecting a semi-sweet vanillic tobacco and the cognac is still lingering. I hate to say this because I respect and love Krigler but Established Cognac doesn’t compare to Creation E. The Cognac note dissipates in nearly 5 minutes with Est. Cognac. I am on hour 6 and the cognac note is holding strong. I can’t get enough of this fragrance. It has quickly climbed to the top in my top 5. I am becoming obsessed with Roja Parfums and am already plotting my next purchase. You get what you pay for and Roja Parfums are so complex, unique, and produced with the finest materials in the world, it is my opinion that they are unmatched in the industry.

Ginger. iStock photo via Wetpaint.com

On Basenotes, an early thread on Enigma has similarly positive thoughts. It opens with a brief review from “Hedonist222” who writes, in part:

(I gave the parfum extrait a thorough wearing)
It starts out with lots of ginger thats softened by cognac, musk & benzoin.

Heliotrope & cardamom are still lurking.

A while into it and all the perky notes have now evaporated and what’s left are somber notes like tobacco, benzoin Ambergris,.

These set the stage for a mellow floral accord.

Ginger remains prominent but softens as the perfume develops.

It’s a very good perfume. Completely unimposing, very smooth. Regal.

A few others agree with the description of “regal,” and one person called Enigma-E “outstanding.” On the other side of the aisle, however, someone called “Rouj” wrote that he was never impressed with Enigma to wear it out of the store.

Basenotes’ official entry for Enigma Pour Homme only has one review listed thus far. “FISS80” writes, in part:

Heliotrope. Photo: Crystal Venters via Dreamtime.com

This fragrance has an old school vibe without actually smelling dated. I can see the comparisons to TV [Tobacco Vanille] but it is an absolutely different fragrance altogether. It is much lighter and no where near as sweet. I swear I smell the neroli and bergamote all the way through its development. The tobacco and vanilla are blended extremely well and the cardamom comes through in a big way towards the end. I think that the dry down more closely resembles Spicebomb than TV. I thought and thought about what this fragrance reminds me of. Finally I got it. This brings me back to my grade school days doing arts and crafts! I believe it is the heliotrope in the opening that does this. In any case, I really like the cognac in this. To me it is this note and the heliotrope that set it apart from both of the aforementioned fragrances. That and its superb construction. Well blended, long lasting, perfect projection, and excellent longevity. 8/10 [Emphasis and bolding to names added by me.]

Source: wallpaperwa.com

I love heliotrope, so I’m rather envious of his experience, as well as that of “Mick Trick” who also detected a lot of the same note. In another early Basenotes thread, he writes about the Extrait/Parfum version:

Initial thoughts from hand sample last night and full wear today. Enigma enters with a floral plume, almondy heliotrope and touch of slightly indolic jasmine and neroli combine with benzoin laced vanilla and congac to give an ever so slightly dirty boozy honey like accord. As the heart is revealed an ambery creamy sandalwood accord joins the fray and builds in strength towards the drydown where it dominates as the florals recede. During this stage where Enigma is at its sweetest it shares some similarity to Amber Narguile in its feel. Tobacco (unsmoked and fine) is in the mix and plays a supporting role, becoming more prominent during the drydown also. The drydown actually reminds me a little of a more opulent and less synthetic version of the Opus VI late drydown, but playing at a much lower volume. Basically it’s a sandalwood laced amber at this stage, fuelled by benzoin and vanilla and a touch of spice. The sweetness level drops slightly during late drydown as it hums a soulful soft ambery resinous tune, some white musks enter at this point it is incredibly delicious and alluring, one of the softest most velvety delicate things I have ever experienced. [Emphasis to names with bolding added by me.]

If you will notice, all of the scents brought up in these comparisons are unisex ones. So, if you are a woman reading this review, do not be put off by the “Pour Homme” part of Enigma’s name. If you have a taste for Orientals that are boozy, ambered, spicy, fruited, and tobacco’d in nature, you will have no problems carrying off the scent.

Creation-E is not cheap, and its American price is soon going to go up even further. Right now, a 50 ml bottle of the Extrait costs $435, €395 or £345. I’ve read that the U.S. price is going increase around the early or middle part of April by about $30 or so, if I remember correctly. If you’ve already tried Enigma Extrait and want to purchase it, now may be your time. (As a side note, I found a discounted bottle on Amazon, though there is only one left. Check the Details section at the end.) If you have wanted to test the perfume, you can order samples from OsswaldNY. If you’re in New York, Bergdorf Goodman carries the Roja Dove line, while Neiman Marcus is your best bet for other parts of the country.

Regardless of your location or country, if you love Enigma but are put off by its cost, there are a number of groups that offer perfume splits or small decants on a more affordable basis. Basenotes has a Splits section, while Facebook has a few different, perfume groups that you can join, like Facebook Fragrance Friends. However, you may need someone to recommend you to the main one, International Fragrances Split Association, that I believe is currently offering all the Roja Dove fragrances.

Is Enigma Pour Homme worth a test sniff? If you love rich Orientals with either tobacco or booziness, then absolutely. It’s very well done. Whether or not it brings you to your knees will depend very much on how you feel about ginger, plum pudding, cognac, Tom Ford’s Tobacco Vanille, and the price.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Enigma or Creation-E Pure Parfum Extrait is available in a 50 ml/1.7 oz size which costs $435, €395 or £345. There is also a Eau de Parfum version which comes in a 100 ml bottle, and which costs €265, £265, or around $350. In the U.S.: Creation-E in the 50 ml Extrait form is sold at Neiman Marcus, Bergdorf Goodman, and Osswald NYC. Creation-E Extrait is also sold at a big discount on Amazon at $349, and the seller is listed as both “Roja Dove” and “SAI Holdings WW INC.” Outside the U.S.: In the UK, you can buy Enigma Pour Homme from Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie on the 5th Floor of Harrods. Roja Dove also has an e-store at Roja Parfums, and he sells the 50 ml Extrait for £345, while the 100 ml EDP is £225. In France, Jovoy Paris is the exclusive distributor for Roja Dove perfumes, but the website only shows the Extrait version in the white Women’s bottle. I can’t see the black-labelled men’s version on the site. Zurich’s Osswald also carries Roja Parfums, but I don’t see Enigma on their list. In the UAE, the Paris Gallery carries the Roja Parfums line, but only has the Extrait from what I can see, not the EDP. It’s priced at AED 2,050. For all other locations, you can use the Roja Dove Locations listing which mentions more stores from Poland to Germany, Switzerland, Lithuania, Russia, and the Ukraine. I don’t see any Canadian, Asian, or Oceania vendors. Samples: If you’re in the U.S. but have no access to one of the listed stores, you can order samples by phone from OsswaldNY. They offer a deal of 10 samples for $20 (shipping included) for domestic customers. Their phone number is: (212) 625-3111. Surrender to Chance does not carry the fragrance at this time.

Roja Dove Diaghilev (The Imperial Collection)

Posted on February 28, 2014 by Kafkaesque

A perfume with the feel of the past, concentrated as if distilled to its richest essence through the ravages of time, and brought back to life with a price tag from the future.

Source: Paris Gallery, UAE.

It’s hard to know where to begin in discussing Diaghilev, a 2013 release from the famous Roja Dove. The perfume has a history beyond just the ballet legend whose name it bears, a history that starts at an exhibition at the Victoria and Albert museum in 2010, and indirectly goes back much further still to a Guerlain fragrance with which it shares enormous similarities for a good portion of its opening hours. Plus, Diaghilev has a huge buzz about it, and not solely because of the Roja Dove name, as you will soon see. Perhaps the real reason why I find it so hard to know where to begin is because I’m simply not moved by Diaghilev. No matter how many times I try it, I recognise its quality on an intellectual level, but it does absolutely nothing for me emotionally. From the first time I tried it last year in Paris, to repeated tests now… my emotions are always at a firm distance.

Diaghilev is a pure parfum or extrait that was inspired by Serge or Sergei Diaghilev, the famous early 20th century ballet impresario who founded the legendary Ballets Russes. On his personal Roja Parfums website, Roja Dove describes the perfume and its notes as follows:

“Decadent Intoxicating Sophistication”

WARM, DRY, SWEET, FRUITY, SPICY, SOFT, & VERY SENSUAL

“I am immensely proud of this work. I love its rich opulence, its complexity and depth, volume, and sensuality. I was inspired by Diaghilev, one of the greatest creative forces of the twentieth century, who changed the world and totally re-wrote the rules – this creation is for exactly that type of person”. Roja Dove

Source: lth-hotels.com

INGREDIENTS
TOP: Bergamot, Lemon, Lime, Orange, Tarragon
HEART: Blackcurrant Buds, Heliotrope, Jasmine, Peach, Rose, Tuberose, Violet, Ylang Ylang
BASE: Ambrette, Benzoin, Cedarwood, Civet, Clove, Cumin, Guaiacwood, Labdanum, Leather, Musk, Nutmeg, Oakmoss, Patchouli, Peru Balsam, Sandalwood, Styrax, Vanilla, Vetiver.

Source: 123rf.com

Diaghilev opens on my skin with a flood of oakmoss on the most beautiful, animalic, castoreum-like base. The base is truly spectacular, especially in the opening 20 minutes. It’s like beautifully darkened, oiled leather with velvety, musky, dirty, and skanky undertones. There is no castoreum listed in Diaghilev, but it really smells like it to my nose. The raunchiness is kept in perfect balance; a touch sweet, urinous, and earthy all at once. It is not feral or fecal, but, rather, akin to the most gentlemanly dirtiness around. The musk is delicately dusted with earthy, dry, cumin, and infused with the sweetened, “fuzzy, warmed skin” characteristics of ambrette seeds (musk mallow).

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

The overall bouquet is a simply perfect base for the vista of green that lies atop it. There is the carpet of oakmoss that is dense, pungent, lightly fusty, vaguely oily and mushroomy, and wholly amazing in its viscosity. The greenness is underscored by the small bits of earthy vetiver, which dance at the edges next to an extremely bitter lime peel. I don’t know quite how Roja Dove has replicated the feel of vintage, real oakmoss so well, but he’s done it in spades with something that feels like juices from the past that have been reduced down to a darkened thickness.

Source: wallpaperuser.com

In less than a few minutes, the colours change. A bright yellow arrives to dapple the mossy forest floor, followed by massive dabs of orange. The first is the bergamot, the second is the peach. The freshness of the former is a muted touch, while the heavy juices of the latter are quite noticeable on my skin indeed. The ripened fruit combines with the cumin to add to the fleshiness underlying Diaghilev, creating the image of musky, heated flesh that merely happens to be lying on a well-oiled leather couch made from castoreum in the midst of an oakmoss forest.

Jubilation 25. Photo: Basenotes.

It’s all very lovely, and all massively familiar. This is Mitsouko parfum, in vintage form, reduced to the level of an attar in density, and thoroughly infused with Amouage‘s cumin-flecked Jubilation 25 (Women). Every minute of Diaghilev’s opening two hours on my skin feels like Mitsouko drenched with Jubilation, right down to the light dance of the very well-blended florals. At this point, Diaghilev’s florals are an abstract, seamless blur that are hard to pull apart, though the jasmine stands out the most. Again, like Jubilation. (And later, it is the ylang-ylang, which is again like Jubilation.) There is even a light flickering fizziness of something nebulous like aldehydes, the way I would experienced with old Mitsouko. By the way, if we’re talking about echoes of famous perfumes, there is also a fleeting, tiny kinship to the post-1989, cumin-y, vintage version of Femme by Rochas as well, though Diaghilev is darker, drier, greener, more leathered, and less fruited.

Most of those differences can be chalked up to Diaghilev’s substantially concentrated Extrait formulation. It is certainly explains why Diaghilev’s oakmoss is much more dense than it is in Jubilation 25. And I’m sure the skanky bits in the Amouage perfume would feel heavily leathered and resinous as well, if the perfume had been amped up by a 1000 to an extrait level the way Diaghilev has been.

Source: RebootwithJoe.com

That said, I loved the opening 20 minutes of Diaghilev. The perfectly calibrated degree of cumin-y, skanky, leathered, castoreum-like velvetiness that rises up to bite you on the nose is glorious. And it’s so wonderful next to the dark oiliness of the heavy oakmoss, the earthy vetiver, and the bitter lime. The perfume has a real, substantial kick to it that makes it stand out at that point.

Unfortunately, the elegant meow of animalic bitchiness soon turns much more well-mannered, sedate and restrained in nature, as the dirty accords sink into the base. You can still detect them, quite easily if you sniff up close, but they blend into the overall blur of greenness that is dominated primarily by the dark, slightly fusty oakmoss with its peachy undertones. For me, by muffling the skanky whiffs, Roja Dove has de-fanged Diaghilev of its more modern, interesting touches, and moved the perfume squarely back a century to the well-bred, distant past.

Regardless, Diaghilev is a very nice, opulent, luxurious perfume in its opening stage. It is a perfectly seamless, extremely dense blend of green chypre notes with thick oakmoss, lime, bergamot, cumin, peach, amorphous florals, and touches of vetiver atop an oily castoreum-like, leathered, skanky base. It is monumentally heavy in feel at this point, as well, much to my great enthusiasm. Two big smears feel like the equivalent of 6 very large sprays of the most potent eau de parfum around.

Yet, to my surprise, the heavy Diaghilev wafts only 2-3 inches above the skin even in its opening. Spraying improved matters, but only moderately, by maybe another 2 inch at most. A friend and reader of the blog, “Tim,” was kind enough to send me a small spray atomizer of Diaghilev which I used in my 3rd test of the perfume, and there was no monumental increase in projection that I detected. The one difference is that spraying brought out the rose note after an hour, though it was still muted and muffled in that perfectly seamless blend of what really just seems like abstract “florals” from afar.

Source: 10wallpaper.com

45 minutes into its development, Diaghilev drops in sillage, and also turns much softer in feel. 90 minutes in, the perfume loses even more of its body, heft and density. It’s primarily an oakmoss scent with sharp lime, bergamot, amorphous florals, peach, atop a velvety dark base just lightly flecked with cumin. Part of the problem in trying to dissect Diaghilev is that it’s so perfectly melded that it is really hard to separate out its tiny details at times. You get the plethora of greenness and the chypre elements up front, but many of the other notes lurk behind, peeking out in the most polite manner. And I’m only referring to 6 or 7 of Diaghilev’s 30 ingredients. The remainder is wholly subsumed within the larger whole.

At the end of the 2nd hour, however, I noticed new elements darting about, weaving their way through the top notes. Now, there is: clove, nutmeg, guaiac wood, mossy patchouli, and cedar. For about 5 minutes, there is even a really pretty touch of soft, earthy, delicate violets. Yet, with the exception of the new spices at hand, most of the elements were mere flickers and are not really a profound presence in a strong, individual, clearly delineated way.

Ylang-Ylang. Source: Soapgoods.com

Much more noticeable instead is the sudden arrival of the ylang-ylang with its custardy, vaguely banana-like, rich undertones. It adds a lovely touch to the pungency of the oakmoss, and is also a great contrast to the skanky, leathered, darkly oily base. I also really like the introduction of the spices, especially the cloves which add a subtle heat to the scent, enlivening it. The guaiac adds a subtle undertone of smokiness, while the cedar brings a tiny burst of pepperiness. The overall effect is to veer Diaghilev straight back into Jubilation’s arms.

Every time that I’ve tested Diaghilev, I noticed what feels like a transitional bridge period that starts always about 2 and a half hours into the perfume’s development. Diaghilev starts to lose its purely oakmoss-chypre focus, and begins the slow move towards an oriental scent. After having reviewed a handful of Roja Dove creations at this point, I get the strong sense that he seems happiest and most comfortable when making Chypre-Oriental hybrids. Many of his best and most beloved fragrances certainly start off as Chypres before turning into pure Orientals, like, for example, Puredistance M and the two Fetish Extraits. At the very least, I think we can agree that he’s a master at the split genre.

Here, the transition is gradual. The visuals are the first to change. It’s as though an oriental autumn has hit the green, oakmoss-covered peach trees and florals in the cumin-dusted forest with its skankily leathered floor. The dark greens are now heavily covered by rich, spiced, brown-reds and by velvety, custardy, ylang-ylang yellow. Sprinkles of white appear from sweetened vanillic powder, as the benzoins and tonka stir in the base. The subtle patchouli element pops up its head to inject a wine-red colour, taking on a liqueured, sweet, jammy richness. The woods encroach on the dominant moss and peach duo, as the guaiac and cedar crowd around, casting dark shadows. Bitter nutmeg is countered by the first traces of a sheer, gauzy wisp of smooth amber.

Source: 1ms.net

Technically, it’s masterful, and theoretically, it should all be right up my alley. Yet, I’m unbelievably detached and disinterested. It’s not the sense of déja vu, but something that is very hard to explain. For me, Diaghilev feels like a technically perfect evocation of the classique tradition, but without a soul or a spark of passion in its depths. It’s like listening to a cover band who is playing all the right notes in a perfect rendition of some classic hit, but it doesn’t fresh, alive, distinctive, or individual. At least, it doesn’t for me. I feel as though I’m stuck in a room listening to Stephen Hawkings giving the most technically correct elucidation of theoretical physics… in Aramaic. Diaghilev’s soul simply gets lost in its correctness, its technical mastery, and in its translation of the past.

Vintage Ballet Russe poster. Source: Pinterest.

The perfume continues its march towards Orientalism. At the start of the 4th hour, Diaghilev is primarily a spicy cinnamon, clove and nutmeg dominated, abstract “floral” scent on my skin, with earthiness and woody elements over a leathered, castoreum-like base lightly infused with skanky civet, labdanum amber, and a whisper of warm ambrette muskiness. By the middle of the 5th hour, it is almost a skin scent that feels extremely abstract. Warm, musky, earthy, sweet, and spicy are the dominant elements. Soon, there is the sense of dry earthiness like soil that has been sprinkled with cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves and vetiver. Dancing at the edges is a dry, brown patchouli. The tiniest veins of labdanum amber, tonka vanilla, and musk run through it all like golden threads. Diaghilev is still strong if smelled up close with your nose on your skin, but it feels like a silken, brown-red sheath of earthy spiciness and sweetness, dappled at its base with musky skankiness from various accords.

At the start of the 7th hour, Diaghilev sets its course for the next few hours. It is primarily a gauzy, soft labdanum amber scent with abstract spices, skanky elements and a touch of vanilla powderiness. It remains that way for ages, until it finally turns into cinnamon, vanilla powder from the benzoins and tonka atop the thinnest smear of civet-y muskiness. In its dying moments, Diaghilev is merely spiced, sweet powder. All in all, Diaghilev consistently lasted over 14.5 hours on me when I applied moderate amounts, and over 16 or 17 hours with larger quantities.

“Copper abstract” by StarwaltDesign via deviantart.com. http://starwaltdesign.deviantart.com/art/Copper-Abstract-207268167

It’s hard to review Diaghilev without bringing up its price. I never examine perfumes in a vacuum, but I usually state that price is an individual, wholly subjective assessment. That’s undoubtedly why most perfume bloggers rarely talk about the matter when assessing fragrances. However, when you have a perfume that costs over $1000 with tax — that retails for $990, €990 or £750 — then price becomes something more quantifiable and objectively critical. In fact, I’d argue that price becomes an integral part of the perfume’s fabric, as much as its notes or its olfactory genre. Intentionally so.

Roja Dove via his Twitter feed.

The basic bottom line seems to be that Roja Dove is aiming for a clientele that is part of the 1%. He’s aiming for the very rich, or, in the case of his special “Roja” perfume that costs well over $4,000, perhaps the super rich. He’s intentionally seeking exclusivity in a way that even Joel Arthur Rosenthal, the stratospherically expensive, legendary jeweler, isn’t trying to do with most of his JAR perfumes. It’s Roja Dove’s right to price his stuff as he sees fit, and there is no doubt that all his fragrances scream high-quality, expensive luxury. No doubt at all. But it is my right to think them over-priced at times, times like now.

I’ve pondered the issue of Diaghilev’s cost for days, and I can certainly see all the logical reasons why people would spend the money on it. But would I, even if I had the money to buy 10 Diaghilevs? I doubt it. I’ve thought about it in-depth, and I’m being honest. Diaghilev feels old in a way that never once crossed my mind when I wore Amouage’s Jubilation. I haven’t tried vintage Mitsouko in years, so I don’t know how I would feel about it now, but I never liked Mitsouko enough to be willing to spend $1000 on it. And, honestly, for me, the very best part of Diaghilev is its opening 20 minutes which are truly glorious. After that, when the skankiness subsumes itself into the base, it loses the one real spark of passion and distinctiveness that it exuded for me. It turns into a very expensive-smelling, beautifully crafted perfume that someone like Joan Collins would love. Glamourous, but dated.

Nijinsky and Pavlova, the two superstars of Les Ballets Russes. Vintage image. Source: jbtaylor.typepad.com

There are quite a few reviews for Diaghilev out there, but the most fascinating one comes from The Non-Blonde. I will quote parts, but I encourage you to read the long review in its entirety, as it echoes many of my sentiments. And the opening two sentences are a doozy:

A very successful perfumer who’ll remain nameless described the perfumes from Roja Dove’s line as “belong in a museum”. After a few seconds of thought he added, “so does Roja”. I didn’t inquire further as to what specific aspect of Roja Dove’s public persona he was referring. Your guess is as good as mine. Diaghilev, a larger-than-life chypre is a perfect example for what the famous perfumer meant. Diaghilev, with its mélange of notes is so over the top that if I weren’t standing at the Bergdorf Goodman counter with the tester right in front of me when I first smelled it, I’d have thought (convinced even) that someone has mislabeled a vintage perfume sample. A very very vintage perfume. Something from the 1920s, perhaps, when leather, oakmoss, all the spices in the world, and a thick overripe floral bouquet could be thrown together and then worn in public without shame.

There’s cumin in the top notes which the husband detected immediately while my own skin smoothed it over. I can smell traces of many thick and plush perfume ideas, the ghosts of famous perfumes the way they smelled back when Louise Brooks, Dorothy Parker, Lillian Gish and Marlene Dietrich used to wear them. Diaghilev is rich, plush, and very animalic, padded with a thick layer of oakmoss that I can smell throughout the perfume’s development. It’s everything I can ask for in a scent. In a different time and place (ok, and a different personality) Diaghilev could have easily been a contender for my signature scent.

They no longer make them like that. They no longer sell them like that. And if you want to wear this type of perfumes you probably need to run with a very specific crowd who appreciate things like that. There aren’t all that many of us around these days, which is probably the reason that Diaghilev stands out so much and feels so shocking. You just don’t smell perfumes like this unless you’re well-versed in vintage perfumes. […]

Here’s the thing: Diaghilev is a magnificent perfume. It’s a very fitting tribute to Sergei Diaghilev and his uncompromising artistic vision. But I almost feel like an oblivious Gwyneth Paltrow prattling about in her GOOPy ways as I’m writing this, because it’s nearly impossible in this case to separate the excellent perfume from its positioning at the very top of the fragrance market. Roja Dove has made sure of that. [snip]

You should read her piece in full. In my case, I doubt I would be inspired to wear Diaghilev, whether it were gifted to me or cost $100. From the very first time I sniffed it at Jovoy around the time of its release, I shrugged and moved on. “Very well done, nice, but …. eh.” I suspect my problem is the lack of strong personality, and not the very dated, “museum” feel of the perfume. I love vintage perfumes, but this feels far too well-bred, dull, and old. Plus, given how very little time I have to wear perfume for myself these days, I would never waste a precious “free day” on Diaghilev. It wouldn’t even cross my mind. (The fascinating Jubilation 25, however, would be a very different matter….)

Diaghilev, the original EDT limited-edition bottle.

Speaking of museums, there is an important issue I need to cover: the original Diaghilev. A few commentators to the Non-Blonde’s post brought up the fact that Diaghilev was originally released in 2010 as part of an exhibition that commemorating Les Ballets Russes at the Victoria & Albert museum. It was a limited-edition fragrance which cost £75, and supposedly only 1000 bottles were released, though there is mention of Roja Dove selling refills in huge 250 ml aluminium bottles on his website. I paused at the comments, like the one talking about “the earlier EDP version’s affordability” and how it felt like “naked manipulation of the consumer.” And I very much agreed. It seemed like bloody cheek for a man to sell a perfume for £75, but then, 3 years later, stick the exact same thing into a crystal-capped bottle and sell it for exactly ten times as much at £750. It seemed outrageous, as if he were pulling the wool over your eyes, while laughing all the way to the bank.

Except that is not what actually happened. I did some digging, and the facts are different. It’s true, as Roja Dove discusses in old blog posts on his website, he made Diaghilev for the exhibition and, yes, he did release it back the for a substantially lower price. There are two key differences, however, between the original Diaghilev and the one released in 2013. For one thing, the original was an eau de parfum, though a number of people also state that it was a mere eau de toilette. Regardless, the new one is an Extrait, and, as noted, has the dense viscosity of an oil in feel, at least in the first few hours. For another, the current Diaghilev is supposedly remastered and changed.

The website, Cosmetopica, writes about that last fact in a glowing review for the new Diaghilev where she also explains the differences between the versions. Her article reads, in part, as follows:

Why the change, I asked Roja’s PR? Because Roja visited the Kremlin, he said. Once he got to Russia, he completely reformulated his ideas about Diaghilev and his oeuvre, and the perfume had to change with it.

The immediate effect of the opening notes of the ‘new’ Diaghilev is identical to the ‘old’ Diaghilev but it only lasts a second before there is then a massive bloom of citrus like falling head-first into a vat of bergamot. You might not get out alive, but it would be a good way to go. To this untutored nose, the citrus melange smelt above all like tangerines (a note that I see is absent). It is also strong enough to knock a horse over at 20 paces.

This phase of the perfume lasts a good 30 minutes – a very long time for citrus – and is fabulously rich and oily, not light and sparkling. […] [It] has the richness of the real deal, due to its use of natural materials in abundance.

I loved this phase of the fragrance, but it got even better in the second act. The floral heart emerges over time like a full orchestra tuning up and to be honest, I found it impossible to pick out the notes. It is at this point that the fragrance morphs back into the character of the original Diaghilev – true, old-style grand perfumerie. Ten hours later, it’s still going strong, wafting up from your clothing whenever you move or sweat, but “curiously well-behaved,”[.]

The next morning, the animalic facets are still there, which I love. I like a bit of skank in a perfume […] So the base notes of civet and musk that hang around for about 24 hours on clothing are just fine by me. […]

Source: scent-intoxique.com

As for the issue of Mitsouko, Cosmetopica writes:

Diaghilev mark 1 smells like Mitsouko should and no longer does, and that, apparently, is no accident. Having read that Diaghilev the man used to spray his curtains with Mitsouko, this is partly Dove’s interpretation of what that atmosphere must have been like.

Does it smell like Mitsouko? Well no. It smells like a Guerlain we haven’t met yet – no accident, I guess, given that Dove worked for the company before it was swallowed up, masticated and vomited back out by LVMH.

I agree that it doesn’t smell purely and wholly like Mitsouko. However, to me, it starts off strongly as a mix of Mitsouko with Jubilation 25 (Women), before eventually shrugging off the Guerlain and turning more into Amouage territory. And I’m not the only one who thinks that. On Fragrantica’s page for Jubilation, 8 people noted a resemblance to Diaghilev, while 3 voted for Mitsouko. There are the same 8 votes for Jubilation on the actual Diaghilev entry as well.

On Fragrantica, the reviews for Roja Dove’s creation are almost all uniformly admiring. The shortest, flattest comment comes from one person who writes simply, “If Mitsouko and Vol de Nuit met and had a baby, their offspring would be Diaghilev.” Others, however, wax rhapsodic. Here are two of the shorter reviews representing the general consensus:

As usually with Roja Dove’s fragrances, Diaghilev as well is strongly inspired by big fragrances of the past. In this case, the old-fashioned chypre structure, comes directly from huge compositions such as Mitsouko and Sous Le Vent. A wonderful fizzy citrusy opening evolving into an extremely refined floral middle phase to then turn into a fresh and rich mossy vetiver drydown which is not so distant from the latest phases of Onda Extrait. [¶] The level of appreciation of Diaghilev is strongly related to one’s personal preference towards extremely classic fragrances. That said, if you like the genre, this is one of the best chypres currently available on the market.

Insanely opulent and suave chypre that, hilariously, reminds me of Aromatics Elixir. A smooth oak moss flanked by top-shelf patchouli and vetiver with minuscule touches of citrus and culinary herbs floating around. Ambrette and civet are present, but highly civilized; many of the myriad fruit / floral notes are there, but not prominent enough to isolate. The whole thing is big, round, and undeniably impressive, but it’s hard not to snicker at the kind of over-the-top luxury it’s signifying. Excellent, beautiful, stunning, and a tad ridiculous. [¶] Break out your Liberace furs and bling, slap some of this on, then go stomp around the neighborhood like you *own* the damn place.

Source: 10wallpaper.com

Both those reviews come from men, by the way, which should alleviate any concerns that you may have that Diaghilev is a woman’s fragrance. As for the price, well, a good response comes from “Tymanski,” my friend who so generously sent me a small atomizer from his own bottle:

i never EVER thought i would even contemplate spending a week’s pay on a bottle of perfume. i made the fateful step of trying this juice out the other day and over the course of the day this smell just got better & better & better. i was extremely sceptical of roja dove – tried several and thought “what’s this guy pulling here”, but with Diaghilev, i take it all back. this is just spectacular on every level. a chypre of such depth, elegance, balance, simply a perfect fragrance. i am not going to start with notes, as this is prodigiously complex; i will say that the rose middle is the finest i’ve ever smelled. the sillage is quite discrete but very solid, and longevity is where it should be for an 850 euro (!!!) parfum. the long drydown has a beguiling affinity with amouage epic man (another favouite). some say this is similar to vintage mitsouko, i really can’t say. it does embody everything i love about chypres in the end, i was seduced.

The bottom line for you is that you should seek out a sample of Diaghilev if you’re a lover of rich chypres, vintage perfumes, Mitsouko, Jubilation 25, and/or very heavy, strongly classical fragrances. Do it for the experience, particularly you’re relatively new to perfumery and want to learn about opulent chypres done in the vintage manner. (Consider it an expensive educational lesson, if you will.) For those who don’t fall into any of the aforementioned categories, I am somewhat dubious as to your reaction. I suspect that you might find Diaghilev overly heavy, very dated and museum-like indeed.

As to what will happen once you smell it, well, then the issue of price will come back to bite you squarely on the nose. You will either: be unable to separate the issue of the cost from the smell, much like The Non-Blonde; think Diaghilev is worth it and be in a quandary; or be like me and intellectually recognize Diaghilev’s quality, but be utterly unmoved nonetheless. One thing is absolutely certain, though: the price tag is the 800-pound gorilla in Diaghilev’s room. £750 to be precise.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Diaghilev is a pure parfum or Extrait which is available in a 100 ml/3.4 oz size which costs $990, €990 or £750. In the U.S.: Diaghilev is carried by New York’s Osswald and Bergdorf Goodman. Outside the U.S.: In the UK, you can buy Diaghilev from Roja Dove at his Haute Parfumerie on the 5th Floor of Harrods London, from Harrod’s online, or from Roja Dove’s e-store at Roja Parfums. In France, Jovoy Paris seems to be the exclusive distributor for Roja Parfums and sells Diaghilev for €990. In the UAE, the Paris Gallery has Diaghilev for AED 5,175. For all other locations, you can use the Roja Dove Locations listing which mentions more stores from Poland to Germany, Switzerland, Lithuania, Russia, and the Ukraine. By the way, in Russia, Roja Dove is supposed to be at Moscow’s tsUM, but I couldn’t find the brand listed on their website when I did a search. There are no Canadian, Asian or Oceania vendors. Samples: I purchased my main, core sample. It came from Surrender to Chance which sells Diaghilev starting at $7.49 for a 1/4 ml vial.

Roja Dove Innuendo (Creation-I)

Posted on February 12, 2014 by Kafkaesque

A suggestion of skin, a tantalizing innuendo, and a knowing glance — all as soft as a whisper. Roja Dove‘s Innuendo is meant to capture some of those things, and to feel like a tender kiss that stays with you for a lifetime. Innuendo was released in 2012, but came to America last year under the name Creation-I due to legal trademark reasons. It comes in two forms, an Extrait Pure Parfum version and an Eau de Parfum. This review is for the Extrait.

Source: Roja Parfums website.

On his personal Roja Parfums website, Roja Dove describes Innuendo as follows:

“As Soft As A Whisper”

SWEET, FRESH, WARM, & SOFT

“This creation is my homage to everything feminine: a lingerie drawer, make-up, and a knowing look. It is like the caress of cashmere against the skin, or a woman’s tender kiss which stays with you for a lifetime”. Roja Dove

INGREDIENTS
TOP: Bergamot, Lemon, Orange
HEART: Jasmine, Rose, Violet, Ylang Ylang
BASE: Labdanum, Musk, Orris, Patchouli, Sandalwood, Tonka Bean.

“Evernia Prunastri” lichen moss. Source: via supermoss.com

Innuendo opens on my skin with a dewy, pink rose, followed by bergamot, chilled lemon, violets and a definite suggestion of mossy greens. There is no oakmoss listed in Innuendo, but something in the combination of ingredients smells exactly like mousse de chene or oakmoss absolute. According to The Aroma Connection blog, a specific type of oakmoss (Evernia prunastri) is the basis for the absolute. It is a grey lichen which grows on trees and has an intensely dank, pungent, fusty aroma that can also be salty and smell like tree bark. Unfortunately, since real oakmoss of any type is essentially banned out of perfume existence, substitutes are sometimes used. The Aroma Connection briefly talks about the various synthetic versions and their aroma:

It should also be mentioned that a range of commercial oakmoss products exists, some offering a warm, leathery-mossy character, whilst others offer have woody, mossy – almost marine-like aspects.

Roja Dove probably did some feat of technical mastery and genius to the patchouli to make it so accurately conjure up oakmoss absolute, because Innuendo has the same sort of smell described in that article: a sharp, slightly fusty, fiercely mossy, green aroma which conjures up images of tree bark, lichen, and saltiness. Since it translates to my nose as “oakmoss,” I’ll just use that word in quotes to convey what I’m smelling. Whatever the source of the note, it’s beautifully done, and feels like dark thorns are piercing through the petals of that soft, pink rose. Yet, for all the pungent, dry, mineralized feel of the “oakmoss,” there is also a bright, plush, emerald green velvetiness from the patchouli itself.

Photo: Helmut Rottler on Fine Art America. http://fineartamerica.com/featured/virgin-pink-rose-with-thorns-helmut-rottler.html

Every inch of the lovely pink and green bouquet is infused with yellow citruses. They are simultaneously tart, crisp, chilled, zesty, sweet and a little bit bitter. It feels as if your nail has just pierced the rind, squirting out the concentrated oil. Something about the fruits makes me think of a sweet but bitter yellow grapefruit, more than an acidic lemon. There is a fragrancy and richness to the oils that feels incredibly bright and fresh. It’s a lovely contrast to the “oakmoss” (or whatever note conjures that mineralized fustiness).

Source: modavesen.com

Lurking at Innuendo’s edges are other elements. There is a soft, fruited, purple patchouli, though it is thankfully not cloyingly sweet. Hints of woodiness are further afield, along with the spectral figure of some powdery iris. More prominent is the dash of violets sprinkled throughout. They feel sweet, green, dewy and cool, but also woody and earthy, as if they were black violets nestled at the base of a tree.

10 minutes in, Innuendo begins the first of its many rapid changes. The rose grows jammier and sweeter; the powdered orris draws closer; and the tangy, bright zestiness of the citruses take a step back. There is a hint of jasmine that takes the iris’ place in the nose-bleed seats. In the base, the first glimmer of vanilla stirs quietly. The “oakmoss” feels less vibrant, bright and plush. It turns more fusty and dry, evoking the sense of dry tree bark. Yet, at the same time, there is also a creamy sort of woodiness in the base that replicates sandalwood quite well, even if it lacks the red spiciness of the true Mysore variety. What I don’t like is the growing presence of musk that feels sharp and too clean.

Soon, within minutes, Innuendo has turned into a very jammy, velvety rose scent, infused with both mossy and purple fruitchouli, along with sharp musk and powdered iris. The citruses and violet are extremely muted now, more of a suggestion than anything else. The jasmine, in contrast, is starting to jump up and down in the background, yelling a louder “Hello.” The most interesting aspect about Innuendo at this stage is the saltiness that circles around the notes. It’s like a lovely breath of sea air blowing from the North Atlantic, and it helps keep the purple patchouli in check.

Source: facepla.net

Unfortunately for me, the musk is growing increasingly white and shrill. It’s absolutely terrible, quickly taking on the aroma of very expensive floral hairspray or soap. White musk is one of my pet (perfume) peeves in life, and I simply cannot see the purpose of it in such an elegant, refined composition. I’m actually less annoyed by the growing sweetness of the fruitchouli that I hate so much because at least it doesn’t feel quite so jarring, out-of-place, and piercing. Even the growing powderiness of the iris fits in better, and is decently modulated.

Photo: stepbystep.com

It takes less than 30 minutes from the start for Innuendo to turn into an extremely high-class rose shampoo, albeit a very expensive, feminine, refined one that is infused with purple patchouli and small tendrils of dry, green mossiness. The white musk is abominable, radiating out both soap, shampoo, and hairspray tonalities into every atom of the rich, powerful rose. The impression of creamy sandalwood has faded, along with the citruses and the last gasp of the violet. The iris remains to add makeup powder to the mix.

The whole thing feels utterly bifurcated, as if there are two polar opposite things going on at once. An opulent, extremely sophisticated rich rose with an “oakmoss” bite, versus a young ingenue’s fresh, innocent soapiness. I think those who love soapy, powdered florals would probably consider Innuendo to be the height of luxurious, opulent elegance from the golden age of haute parfumerie. I admit, I can see that, myself as certain parts of Innuendo at this stage certainly ring true to that ideal. Yet, my lip is still curling with disdain over the other parts of the scent, and the overall dated feel. I don’t have anything against opulent florals with an old-time, vintage, classique feel. If anything, that is rather in my wheel-house. Yet, Innuendo still feels antiquated, and not in a good way.

Lara Pulver.

There are two, very different women simultaneously being represented by Innuendo at this stage. The first one who repeatedly comes to my mind is the actress Lara Pulver, from the Sherlock series or, to be more precise, the woman she plays in ITV/ BBC America’s Fleming: The Man Who Would Be Bond,. There, she is the aloof, haughty Lady Ann O’Neill (the future Mrs. Ian Fleming), a sort of Wallis Simpson type: an extremely sophisticated, hard, brittle, aristocratic woman dressed sleekly in black, and whose game of seduction centers around innuendo and breathy suggestion. She is represented by Innuendo’s incredibly refined, opulent, heavy rose with its chypre-like, mossy thorns.

Mary Pickford, 1920s.

Next to her and conjoined at the hip is the second woman: a young, fresh-faced, innocent beauty in her early 20s dressed in white, smelling of fresh soap and powder. Two women, one scent. At the same time, I can’t shake the feeling that Innuendo is the scent that an ingenue with aspirations to sophistication and wealth would have started to wear in her 20s, only she’s still doing so in her 80s. I find something polarizing and unbalanced about how the fresh, soft innocent side attacks the rest of Innuendo which feels unbelievably heavy, reeking of over-done opulence, expensive wealth and aged sophistication.

I know exactly the sort of perfumista who would love that mix, finding it a clarion call to vintage Guerlains only amped up by a thousand in heft. For me, though, it’s a schizophrenic mix, one that is dominated by shampoo and piercing musk to the point of feeling oppressive. And the purple fruitchouli isn’t helping matters, either. It all felt exhausting and I briefly contemplated scrubbing Innuendo, but I’m glad I resisted because the perfume suddenly changes. And drastically, at that.

Source: 123rf.com

90 minutes in, Innuendo suddenly veers 180 degrees in the opposite direction and becomes a new fragrance entirely. There is obvious mastery and talent in managing such an extreme transformation, because Innuendo turns into a lush, beautiful, creamy floral oriental scent with none of the horrific aspects of its start. The change begins with the oppressive musk suddenly softening its aggressive assault, thereby giving the other notes a chance to shine through. Innuendo turns warmer, sweeter and richer; the rose steps back; someone puts a gag on the shampoo; the makeup powder is similarly muffled; and even the fruitchouli feels less cloying.

The famous Cora “Sun Drop” yellow diamond. Source: www.people.com.cn

Then, the jasmine and ylang-ylang glide gracefully onto center stage. Beautifully heady jasmine, with opulent, velvety ylang-ylang that radiates like a yellow diamond. They are enveloped by an amber glow that feels a lot more like salty, musky ambergris than the more masculine, leathery, toffee’d labdanum listed in the notes. Returning to the scene is that creamy woodiness that almost feels like sandalwood, but now it carries a trace of something vaguely smoky. The true beauty in all this is the vanilla. My God, is it good. It’s entrancingly creamy, smooth, airy but rich, vanilla mousse, and it makes all the difference to the florals. It coats the ylang-ylang — in fact, it feels as if it’s coating your very mouth — with vanilla custard, but it’s never cloying, heavy or painfully sweet. The combination of the vanilla, amber, woodiness, and hint of smoke turns Innuendo into a floral, oriental custard that radiates warmth and silkiness.

“Rosee Celeste” by David Graux via Art.com

All images of brittle sophisticates or soapy ingenues vanish amidst thoughts of silk and satin. Roja Dove sought to conjure up a woman’s lingerie draw, along with the finest of soft fabrics against the skin, and by Jove, he’s succeeded. I think it’s the silkiness of the vanilla, the petal softness of the ylang-ylang that is increasingly dominating the scent, and the perfume’s overall softness. Innuendo began with massive potency, wafting a good 5 inches above the skin with 3 small spritzes from my atomizer (or about 1 good spray from a bottle), but that power soon dropped. At the end of the first hour, Innuendo felt airier, lighter, and softer with only about 2 inches of projection, though the perfume was massively heavy and concentrated up close.

Ylang-Ylang. Source: Soapgoods.com

However, by the time Innuendo does its 180 turn, everything is different. The sillage hovers just an inch above the skin, and everything is soft. You can almost image touching the velvety petals of the ylang-ylang, rubbing it against your skin with a texture like the thinnest cashmere shot through with silk. Innuendo truly seems to coat your skin with a breathy whisper, a golden sheath that has great richness and intimate sensuality. And it turns silkier by the minute.

Slowly, the ylang-ylang and vanilla take over the whole show, while the jasmine works its charms indirectly and from afar to add a certain elusive headiness to the notes when smelled up close. To my surprise, a new element arrives on the scene — oranges — which melts into the flowers, adding a juicy sweetness and fruited touch. The rose remains on the sidelines and periphery, visible only if you sniff really hard and focus. It is imbued with just the perfect amount of jamminess from the patchouli and, thankfully, none of the vile Pantene shampoo from the musk. Meanwhile, the labdanum and sandalwood slowly diffuse into the vanillic base, though a certain smokiness still remains. I’m thoroughly enjoying Innuendo now, but the polarity after the nightmare of the first 90 minutes (which came on the heels of the loveliness of the initial 10 minutes)… well, it feels a little schizophrenic.

Photo: David Prince. Source: Myrecipes.com

For the next few hours, Innuendo remains a soft, orange-accented, custardy ylang-ylang fragrance with creamy vanilla mousse. It’s not sweet, gourmand, or cloying, but just right, even if it is incredibly discreet. Trailing behind are small streaks of jasmine, patchouli-rose, and some amorphous, smoked woods. There is a gentle muskiness to the notes that feels golden and entirely natural, undoubtedly from the amber in the base. The latter still doesn’t smell like actual labdanum on my skin, but, rather, like a generalized warm glow. Around 3.5 hours in, Innuendo turns into a skin scent. By the end of the 5th hour, the perfume is primarily ylang-ylang and vanilla, followed by orange, and with only tiny, lingering traces of purple fruitchouli at the edges.

Source: Dreamstime.com Royalty Free stock photos

Unfortunately for me, the final stage of Innuendo is another schizophrenic shift. The first traces of soapiness appears midway during the 6th hour; by the start of the 8th hour, Innuendo suddenly sheds almost all of its prior notes and veers sharply into soap territory. It is infused with an abstract orange floralacy, but it’s very muted. The ylang-ylang and jasmine have completely vanished. In the base, the labdanum has turned into its more usual form, wafting a nuttied, caramel-toffee note. As a whole, Innuendo smells largely like expensive, ambered, sweetened soap. The whole thing is so abstract and soft, it’s really hard to tease out any other elements. Soon, Innuendo is nothing more than a smear of ambered soapiness, and there it remains until its very end, several hours later. All in all, Innuendo Extrait lasted just over 13.5 hours, with soft sillage for the majority of that time.

On Fragrantica, there is only one review for Innuendo thus far, though a few people seem to have voted on the notes. What is interesting to me is that the main element they detect in the fragrance is white musk, followed by tonka (for the vanilla), then ylang-ylang and patchouli. The one comment comes from “Shorokh” who seems to have struggled with the same schizophrenia that I experienced:

Very unusual. Green and mossy at the beginning, and like this for quite a while; then after several hours (4.5 – 5 in my case) those notes disappear completely. It`s like putting on a totally new perfume! Some might like it – having two perfumes instead of one. But I don`t like my perfume change so dramatically while I wear it. No jasmine or rose on me. Must try again!

Basenotes has nothing in its entry for the fragrance, and I couldn’t find any blog review for either Innuendo or Creation-I, its American name. I wish I could provide more information, more details on the other side of the picture, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.

Photo: Pinterest. Original source unknown.

What I can tell you is that there will be some women who will undoubtedly love Innuendo. Anyone who passionately adores powdery, soapy florals comes to mind, along with those who love very vintage Guerlain classics but with a more concentrated richness and opulence. Obviously, people who don’t like a very dated, old-fashioned, heavy feel to their scents should stay away. Innuendo is marketed as being a women’s fragrance which is just as well, since I can’t see the vast majority of men wearing it.

Innuendo Extrait costs $435 for 50 ml. All I’ll say on that score is that the perfume certainly does smell expensive. (Well, minus the Pantene shampoo bit.) Innuendo also reflects great perfume mastery in creating such an extensive range of movement throughout the notes. No matter how much whiplash Innuendo gave me, there is no question that it is well made or that Roja Dove is a master at luxuriousness. As you can tell, though, I disliked the perfume except for the 4 or 5-hour stretch in the middle. That part was truly and genuinely lovely, even though the projection was terribly weak. But 5 hours out of almost 14 miserable ones is not good enough for me — at any price.

The issue really comes down to personal tastes. As regular readers know, I can’t abide white musk, soapiness, hairspray notes, shampoo similarities, or makeup powder. So, put my views in that context, and try Innuendo for yourself if you love very old-fashioned florals with a soft, powdery, clean bent. It certainly has the luxurious, sophisticated feel to go with that very high price.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Innuendo Pure Parfum is available in a 50 ml/1.7 oz size which costs $435, €395 or £345. There is also a Eau de Parfum version which comes in a 100 ml bottle, and which costs €265, £265, or around $350. In the U.S.: Innuendo is called Creation-I and is available in the 50 ml bottle Extrait version from New York’s Osswald and Bergdorf Goodman. The EDP version is sold on Amazon, purportedly by Roja Dove, for around $349. There is also a site called Cosmetics Now which sells it for around $355. Outside the U.S.: In the UK, you can buy Innuendo directly from Roja Dove at his Haute Parfumerie on the 5th Floor of Harrods London, his Urban Retreat website, or Harrod’s online. Roja Dove also has an e-store at Roja Parfums for his personal line of fragrances, and he sells Innuendo Extrait for £345, while the EDP is £225. In France, Jovoy Paris seems to be the exclusive distributor for Roja Dove perfumes, and sells Innuendo in the Extrait version for €395. In the UAE, the Paris Gallery carries the whole Roja Parfums line and sells both Innuendo Extrait and EDP. For all other locations, you can use the Roja Dove Locations listing which mentions more stores from Poland to Germany, Switzerland, Lithuania, Russia, and the Ukraine. There are no Canadian, Asian or Oceania vendors. Samples: I obtained my sample from Jovoy in Paris. If you’re in the U.S., you can test Innuendo Extrait by ordering samples by phone from OsswaldNY. They offer a deal of 10 samples for $10 (shipping included) for domestic customers. Their phone number is: (212) 625-3111. As for Surrender to Chance, it doesn’t carry Innuendo. So, your best bet is really ordering a sample from OsswaldNY.