Histoires de Parfums Petroleum (Edition Rare): fragrance review

All the colors of a bruise: black and blue, teal green edging out in purple, fading to rosy, ending in ochre yellow like ancient parchment.

The electrical buzz of arc-welding, fiery orange sparks filling out the skies, the rusty mine of the shipwreck. The air filled with a mineral, scorched feel. The plank-plank of cork wedges hitting the iron ore at the loading decks.

A leather cloth, all smeared with wax. The musty smell of the hold of an old ship. He had his hair loose and oily with sweat and ambery brilliantine. My hand aching from trying to hold tight onto the lower mast. I said "I'm hurt". He should have said, "honey, let me heal it", like Bruce. Only he never said it; not in so many words.

John Klingel

Petroleum by Histoires de Parfums is Gerald Ghislain's story on oudh, the prophylactic defensive rot on Aquillaria trees and its resinous, nutty, woody, complex scent. Infused with fizzy orange, musty patchouli and a prolonged furry, white musk aftertaste, lasting hours, purring after the roar, Petroleum is the gift of the earth in an unassuming bottle. This oudh étude surpasses many others, in a masterful cadenza of chromatic tonalities: from black and blue, teal green edging out in purple, fading to rosy, ending in ochre yellow like ancient parchment. The chromatics in a drop of "liquid gold", in an old bruise that still aches when pressed.

Ormonde Jayne Nawab of Oudh: fragrance review

I remember walking around an exhibition on Moghul India at the British Museum, resplendent in the opulence we associate with this particular region and time. The curlicued rupees bearing intricate names alongside triangular flags, ears of wheat and fishes were not strictly limited to Moghul rule, the curator explained; the Nawabs had seized control of their own regions by that time, issuing their own coins, but continuing to cajole the Mughal emperor by keeping his name on the currency. Similarly the latest India-inspired Ormonde Jayne fragrance, Nawab of Oudh, draws upon two different wells: the silk Banarasi saris of India, with their Moghul motifs and their heavy gold work, on one hand and the mystic Muslim tradition of roses and oud resin rising in the air from a censer at the mosques of Persia on the other.

Source: Uploaded by user via Melissa on Pinterest

Understandably, given those references, the perfume smells the way a metallic brocade looks: lush, rich, opulent, draped for elegance. But the artistry of perfumer Geza Schoen makes it modern and wearable too. Despite the by now tired trope of "oudh",  the note so often smelling more like a pack of Band-Aids than the exotic resin obtained by the pathological secretion of the Aquilaria tree when attacked by a fungus, there is none of that contemporary nonsense in Nawab of Oudh. There is a powdery, soft like cat's paws, ambery trail in the drydown, reminding me of Private Collection Amber Ylang (E.Lauder), which envelops the higher notes of green-citrusy brilliance into a cradle of plush. The distinction between phases (drawing upon the classical pyramid structure of perfumes) is here apparent, at least in a binary pattern: the introduction is distinctly separate from the prolonged (really impressively prolonged) phase of the drydown. In essence we have the interplay of raspiness and velvety softness, aided by the texture of the rose. Oud-laced roses have become a dime a dozen lately in niche perfumery, but I will withhold a place in my heart of Nawab of Oudh because it's so extraordinarily beautiful indeed.

And the name? How did it evolve and how does it unite those two worlds, India and the Middle East? Awadh or Oudh was a prosperous and thickly populated province of northern India (modern Uttar Pradesh), its very name meaning "capital of Lord Rama", the hero of the Ramayana epic. Its turmoiled history began with becoming an important province of the Mughal empire, soon establishing a hereditary polity under Mughal sovereignty; but as the power of the Mughals diminished, the province gained its independence. The opulence in the courts of the Nawabs (ruler kings of the Awadh, originating from a Persian adventurer called Sa'adat Khan) and their prosperity were noticed by the British East India Company, resulting in their direct interference in internal political matters, which reached its zenith in the eventual total loss of power by the Nawabs in 1856.

The official info on the scent by Ormonde Jayne runs thus: "Nawab (Ruler) of Oudh is a province of central India. Our perfume is inspired by the Nawabs who once ruled over it. It is a potent blend of amber and rose with a soft oudh edge. Yet surprisingly not one ingredient stands out from the others. It achieves a perfume synergy that defies traditional analysis, releasing a pulsating pungency, brooding and hauntingly beautiful, a rich tapestry of fascinating depths, a jewelled veil to conceal its emotional complexity and extravagance."

Notes for Nawab of Oudh:
Top: green notes, bergamot, orange absolute, cardamom, aldehyde.
Heart: rose, magnolia, orchid, pimento, bay, cinnamon, hedione.
Base: ambergris, musk, vetiver, labdanum, oudh.

Nawab of Oudh along with the rest of the "Four Corners of the Earth" collection by Ormonde Jayne, inspired by Linda Pilkington's travels, is exclusive to the London Ormonde Jayne boutiques at 12 The Royal Arcade and 192 Pavillion Road and at the Black Hall perfumery at Harrods.

Arabian Perfumery for Beginners: Mukhallat, Oudh et al

I have been fragrance consulting for a piece in Condé Nast's Traveler these past few days and it has come to my attention that the terminology of Arabian perfumery, despite its gradual seeping into the mainstream, is still elusive for many. So a few terms are hereby clarified for our readers.

via timeoutkl.com

One of the terms you often stumble upon is mukhallat/mukhallet/mokhalat. The term is rather generic to denote fragrance oil mix in Arabic. Oil form is prefered due to its sensual nature and because oil holds fragrance better. Seeds and leaves are grinded into powder to enrich those oils. Arabian women are increasingly appreciating the convenience of Western-style spray fragrances, emulating the Western ideal, yet there is also the belief those smell a little less beautiful due to the intense alcoholic blast out of the sprayer. It's very common fragrance practice in the Middle East, therefore "mukhallat al...something" is a fragrance oil to be used neat on the skin with X ingredient highlighted. Alternatively you might see the brand's name placed beside the mukhallat term, to denote their own "blend" version. [That said, there IS a company simply named Mukhallat which has an online site selling fragrances of Arabic inspiration].
Mukhallat is not to be confused with attar, which refers to any fragrant essential oil distilled from flowers into a carrier oil (usually sandalwood). So you can have a mukhallat containing attar of roses for instance, but also musk, saffron, oudh, amber (itself a mix)...The variations that distinguish mukhallats are not only the ingredients themselves (i.e. the "recipe") as these tend to tread familiar paths, but also for instance the species of the particular flower used, the origin of an ingredient (such as Omani frankincense versus Somalian), plant or animal based musk, the amber-note recipe, additional oils and the quality and quantity of individual ingredients. It's here important to note that although mukhallat sounds like a mix of all natural essences, in truth this is often not the case.

Oudh/Oud/Aoud (also: agarwood or aloeswood) is one of the most common and confusing ingredients to be featured in Arabian perfumery. Common because there's a significant tradition of using this oleoresin in Middle Eastern rituals, and confusing because so many of the fragrance blends are not based on the natural oud essence for various reasons, as you can see here. Oud/Oudh comes in two commercial forms: den al oudh which is an oil produced via either distilling the wood chips of the Aquilaria tree (a more economical option) or melting a small amount of the resin produced by the tree into a carrier oil. Thus den al oudh can be used neat on the skin as perfume. The pure resin (to be further manipulated for fragrance purposes) is usually referred to as oud mubakhar.

Some of the companies that do quality Arabian-inspired or Arabian perfumery are (in no specific order):
Amouage, Ajmal, Aluwwah.com, Arabian Oud, Al Haramain, ASAQ, Al Rehab, Yas: The Royal House of Perfumes. Rasasi and Swiss Arabian are also credible, if less luxurious.
And of course there are less expensive Arabian fragrant mixes that can be no less beautiful in their own way.

By Kilian Incense Oud: fragrance review

Nothing is more alluring than the forbidden and at a time when the Muslim world appears as West's "enemy" in the zeitgeist, the surge for Arabian-inspired perfumes is gaining momentum thanks to that very axiom. Incense Oud by Kilian is one member of the cast in this multi-character play where prestige and polish are given to niche lines through the claim on age-old materials, such as oud/agarwood and incense; but it's not just a supporting player.

Incense Oud managed to make me notice ~my nose has become seriously jaded with oud-claiming notes in just about every price-point in the market!~ and that's no small feat. Is it because oud has become a play on perception since the perfume doesn't -apparently- contain any? Smoother than the Montale aoud scents, which possess that "Band-Aid note" so distinctly and which announce their presence from five blocks away, the Kilian fragrance feels very wearable and with its elegant eloqution of Eastern materials manages to smell at once mysterious and meditative. It's an "oud fragrance" for non-oud-lovers, but it doesn't betray the promise of Middle Eastern atmosphere.

To an audience of men and women tired of the pop celebritoids popping up through reality TV and one-hit wonders, a media plate brimming with upstarts ready to forsake their panties at the drop of a nickel and eager to leak their own sex video tapes online, a veiled lady or a tanned Arabian prince half hidden under a djelaba look not only exotic, but infinitely classy. When on the other hand you have a Colossus such as LVMH, the Group behind the By Kilian brand (indeed Kilian Hennesy is the heir to the throne of the cognac empire) supporting and pushing the Arabian Scent Concept to anyone willing to look beyond Walmart, you can bet you have a sizzling hot trend on your hands!

As announced, By Kilian Incense Oud is the newest installation to the "Arabian Nights" collection. It is a dark and well balanced blend of frankincense & woods (cedar, patchouli and sandalwood get amped by the naturally leathery accents of cistus labdanum and the murkiness of a little oakmoss) evoking the "impression" of oud. The patchouli gets a boozy, almost licoriced facet, it's soft and quite delicious.
The first impression you get from Incense Oud is terpenes-rich frankincense, the kind you smell in Catholic churches (the Roman Catholic Church sources its supplies from Somalia); in fact the brand claims it makes a quart of the total formula! It doesn't present itself as a hard-core incense fragrance nevertheless and there is no smoky trail, but rather a resinous quality about it. The naturally citric facets of this ancient gum are reinforced by complimentary notes (methyl pamplemouse for one, which is grapefruit-like). The natural pairing of oud on the other hand is traditionally rose, but you can't quite pinpoint this is as rosy. Rose is smoothly blended with the patchouli and therefore nothing like you'd meet at the florist's or ~heaven forbid!~ in a toilet freshener. Think of the treatment of rose in Voleur de Roses in L'Artisan for that segment in the fragrance, a dark rose unfurling its petals under a moonless sky.
The lasting impression is patchouli with a hint of myrrh to reinforce the sweetness in Incense Oud: the longer the perfume stays on skin, the more pronounced the sweet leaves become. Of course, patchouli is to the 2000s what hair mousse was to the 1980s: there's simply no escaping it. Not that I particularly mind.

Sidonie Lancesseur had composed the oud-themed Cruel Intentions, as well as Straight to Heaven, for the brand’s introductory "L’Oeuvre Noire" series. The rest were composed by Calice Becker. Although the info on shopping sites presents Lancesseur as the creator of this scent as well, the Kilian press says that Becker is the real creator. Here she was presented ~oddly~ with the challenge of composing an oud-themed fragrance without including the essence or the synth. I seem to think there's a smidge of it there, but I could just be showing my contrarian colours!

The whys of such a decision not to advertise as it containing oud, when the name alludes otherwise, could be seen in diverging interpretations: It could be that the challenge is a plea to people's intelligence and consequently perfume aficionados' increasing cynicism: "You distrust oud as a mentioned ingredient, so here, we're offering you one which doesn't lie in its notes about what it contains or not". Or it could be interpreted differently, along the lines that since oud is the material du jour, it doesn't matter whether or not there is any included; "as long as it's mentioned in the name, people will try it and buy it". Of course I am not professing any of the two versions as truer than the other; I'm just noticing things!
Kilian offers cardamom as a featured note too (probably because the inclusion of cardamom pods are a time-honoured tradition in the preparation of delicious Arabian coffee and is too good a reference to eschew), but it's not as discernible as in Cartier's Déclaration for instance; it doesn't form a major part of the experience.
Simply put, if you like frankincense and patchouli-rose accords, you stand good chances to like Incense Oud, because it lives up to the former (being the first half of its name) and offers a polished interpretation of the later. The sillage is medium and tenacity is very good. It's a sneaky scent I found, growing on you upon consequent wearings.

Notes for Incense Oud By Kilian:
Guatemala cardamom, pink pepper, Turkish rose, Egyptian geranium, methyl pamplemousse, Virginia cedarwood, Indonesian patchouli, Indian papyrus, Somalia incense (oil and absolute), sandalwood, Macedonian oakmoss, Spanish cistus labdanum, musks.

Available in 50ml bottles for $395 (ouch!!) at Luckyscent et al. Smart tip: go for the refills for same quantity for 175$ (i.e. perfect for splitting).

Disclosure: I was sent a sample vial for reviewing purposes. Pic was sent to me by email unaccredited.

Perfumery material: Oud/Aloeswood/Agarwood & Synthetic Substitutes

Oudh seems to be THE major trend in perfumery and as recently as this season we have two launches featuring it, the excellent Epic by Amouage and the shortly launching Al Oudh by L'Artisan Parfumeur. However, the market is becoming so increasingly busted by oud-this and oud-that that a closer examination of truths, rather than claims, is needed. Only if you have been living under a rock, have you not read a hundred times already that oud/aoudh/aloeswood is the aroma-rich prized resin produced by the pathological secretion of Aquillaria trees when attacked by a fungus.
Nevertheless, much as the ad copy circulating and the articles in glossies insist, there is a mythology built about oudh in western fragrances which doesn't exactly justify the tsunami of oud-based fragrances launched in the past few years. Several fragrances which feature notes of oud in fact use a synthetic substitute in lieu of the extra-expensive, ultra-rare ingredient: It was a mere consequence of the eternal law of offer and demand. That's how a designer scent with oud "notes" (YSL M7) even became possible. So many fragrances on all price levels as we will see below simply cannot be based on real oud.

Synthetic Oud in the Majority of Perfumes you say?
Even if the whole Southeastern jungle is eradicated in its pursuit, as apart from endagered, the mere process is so time consuming (often necessitating HUNDREDS of years for the noble rot to manifest itself sufficiently in the wood that produces the essence) that it's a logical impossibility. By Kilian freely admits using the synthetic, to their credit.
Firmenich, the aromachemicals giant, has a nicely rounded synthetic base, the Oud Synthetic 10760 E. Seriously hip niche brand Le Labo uses it in their Oud27. Interestingly the material bears some sentising dangers which might bring it into axing under a future IFRA Amendement perfumery restrictions policy.
Givaudan also have Agarwood Orpur/"Black Agarwood base" which is another product used to substitute the golden nectar in fragrance releases, reflecting the particular scent of burning Agarwood chips and amalgamating ambery, olibanum and balsamic nuances.

Somehow the above facts makes the price asked seen under a completely different light!Le Labo are not the only ones to employ these synthetics: Several fragrances have the discernible fingerprint of those aromachemicals all over them (Tom Ford Oud Wood uses Agarwood Orpur by Givaudan for instance, same goes for Bond No.9's offerings)

If the pace of using oud synths escalates everyone will be wearing "ouds", the way at some point they wore acquatics or gourmands a total defeat of the purpose of "coinnoisseurship" which is so brandished in the oud-selling game. Not to mention that by that time, with the help of Bath & Body Works, there will be an oudh for every budget (Ironically enough yes, there is one by B&BW as we speak!), which proves the statement above. But let's explore this fascinating material and the synthetics that often imitates it in this guide on building blocks of perfumery.

The cmplex natural material
Agarwood or Oud or Oudh or Aoud (the name taken from the province of Oudh) is the resinous heartwood from Aquilaria trees (predominantly from Aquilaria malaccensis), evergreens native to southeast Asia. As they become infected with mold (Phaeoacremonium parasitica, a dematiaceous fungus) they compensate by producing an aromatic resin over the course of several decades. The damage is so extensive that agarwood sinks in water. The growing of the infection results in a rich, dark resin within the heartwood. That resin is known as gaharu, jinko, aloeswood, agarwood, or oud/oude/oudh, valued in many cultures since antiquity for its distinctive aroma ~terribly complex with nutty, musty-earthy undertones redolent of undergrowth. Agar use dates back to prehistory: mentioned in the Bible, ancient Persian and Sanskrit religious texts and part of the first historical biographies in Sanskrit. Oud is also inextricably linked to Assam’ s cultural heritage, since the Indian monarchs employed the used bark of the Sasi Agar tree as writing-material for chronicling their royal circulars.
Oud nevertheless is prohibitevely expensive, fit for royalty only, even for niche and ultra-expensive brands and quite rare. One of the reasons for the rarity and high cost (above $62,000 cash for one kilo) of agarwood is the depletion of the wild resource: Since 1995 Aquilaria malaccensis has been listed in Appendix II by the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora, while in 2004 all Aquilaria species were listed in Appendix II, even though some countries have reservations for the latter listing. Middle Eastern or French perfumers seeking oud at source must establish ginormous bank funds in the pertinent countries, because governments are aware of the trade capitalizing on it. Additonal obstacles arise from the sheer reality of harvesting: Dead infected wood cannot be distilled and heavily infected live wood is not worth it as the wood itself is so more pricey. Thus the only wood distilled is live. Distillable wood is only good for a few months on the other hand, as the essential oil cells dry out, making oud a stratospherically expensive business.

Besides there are grades within the product: The highest quality comes from the tree's natural immune response (known as agarwood #1) while an inferior resin is rendered by deliberatily wounding aquilaria trees (agarwood #2, within which there aslo several grades of quality). Adulteration is not unheard of either, according to Tryvge Harris. The average oud available in the US will have changed hands at least 10 times (!), while rumours abound about Chinese factories who churn out beautiful but fake product ~made of the lowest possible grade agarwood soaked for a month in synthetic (European manufactured) oud. It's also worthy of note that Arabs are not that concerned with purity as might have been supposed, instead focusing on the pleasure principle the aroma brings.
Jenny, an amateur perfumer writing Perfume Making describes the sensation of smelling oud well:

"The scent of Oudh sometimes called Agarwood or Eaglewood is so incredible wonderful. It has all kinds of shades, it's smokey, deep woody, a bit sweet in an intriguing way. It even has some green notes and some kind of mouldy notes. It's hard to describe the scent. It reminds me of a blend of vetiver, birch tar, sandalwood, guiacwood, vetiveryl acetate, patchouli and some spicy notes like the note of clove".

One of her readers gives a price ballpart as well: The pure Oudh Oil Grade A costs about USD300.00/12mls (1 Tola) and the Resins for Grade AAA is about USD 7,000.

The difference in smell in the finished product is also relative to how oud is treated as a "note" from a perfumery standpoint (regardless of whether it derives from a natural or a synthetic source): From the Band-Aid note of Montale's Aouds (due in several cases to the phenolic guaiacwood used in tandem) to the smoother versions like in M.Micallef Aoud Homme when the lactic notes can pop up under the shriller introduction. Le Labo went for a camphoraceous feel with pungent rather than burning tonalities, while Tom Ford extended the effect with lots of cedar.

Word of Mouth and Word of Mouse
The literature on oud is picking up fast with all the semi-underground fora, specialty blogs and even mainstream press mentioning the prized ingredient:

"Oud (pronounced ood) smells expensive and it is. What it perhaps has going for it most is its obscurity and ineffability. There really is nothing quite like it. Hence its appeal. While the cultivation of agarwood can be traced back to ancient Asian civilizations, only recently has oud become the note du jour in high-end Western fragrances from Yves Saint Laurent's M7 to Tom Ford's Oud Wood."

Thus says Amy Verner on the Globe and Mail, only to semi-contradict herself later stating:

"Just don't expect to see oud featured in mainstream fragrances any time soon. Since it's not only rare but pricey, most experts think that it will remain on its rarefied perch." [ed.note: We already stated that Tom Ford's posh Oud Wood uses a synthetic anyway]

The truth is somewhat different than what you often read in the press, as we have proven.


Fragrances with Oud Notes
Fragrances stating oud notes start as low-end as Culture by Tabac: Arena di Roma by Mäurer & Wirtz (2002) and as mainstream as Versace pour Homme (2008) or Farenheit Absolute by Dior (2009). Ava Luxe, an ultra-niche brand with remarkably low prices states oud as a note in her unisex Chaos. Of course there are several niche players involved as well: From "classic oudet-cadet" Montale (Aoud Leather, Black Aoud, Red Aoud, White Aoud, Bois d'Aoud, Louban, Aoud Rose Petals ~the latter incidentally is sublime~ etc.) and the Arabian real mcCoy El Haramain's line-up to By Kilian Arabian Nights Pure Oud (and Cruel Intentions) and Le Labo Oud27. And from the newest Midnight Oud by Juliette has a Gun all the way through Ormonde Jayne Ormonde Man (2004), M. Micallef Aoud Homme, all-naturals Ayala Moriel (Charisma, Megumi, Razala), Dawn Spencer Hurwitz (Prana) and Neil Morris (Taj, Fetish, Flowers for Men Gardenia, Burnt Amber). If you want to smell real, medicinal expensive natural oudh beyond any doubt to get a feel of the material go no further than Anya's Garden Temple: the fragrance is almost entirely comprised of oud's dense complex notes. Mona di Orio's Oud also uses an amount of the real thing, accounting for the very pungent yet layered smell.

And remember that as with anything when there is great demand, the offer tends to cut corners. Think about it next time you're asked stratospheric prices and go by the only rule-of-thumb that should apply in choosing fragrance: how much pleasure it gives you!
Additional reading on the Eastern use of aloeswood in incense as well on this link.
Painting of As Afuddaula, the nawab of Oudh via Exotic India Art. Pic of agarwood rot by Robert Blanchette, University of Minnesota, Advertisement of M7 via easycorner.com.