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Madini's Jasmine


Madini is a provider of various fragrance oils * in the like that is sold in many Middle Eastern souks' perfume booths. Some of their oils are single notes compounds; some are replicas of commercial designer fragrances (i.e.: Angel, No. 5 and other best-sellers), and some remain true to the Arabian style of perfumery, even if made with cheaper raw materials. Traditionally, a perfume business runs in the family, and the father passes the art and wisdom (selecting oils, etc.) to his sons (it is primarily a patriarchal system, though it is changing), and I gather Madini have been around for 400 years.

The vendor (who nowadays rarely is the perfumer) will either bottle it as it is in an ornamental-looking bottle with a dauber, or in a simple roll-on - or if you wish, will blend it for you in some alcohol so that you can spray it. DPG can be mixed in both oil and alcohol, and that's the advantage of this material, besides it being very cheap (unlike jojoba oil).

"The sweet and most celebrated flower of North Africa. Considered by many to be the most precious of floral ingredients, certainly one of the costliest". Given that it is sold for $25 for a 6 mL bottle (which brings it to roughly $125 per oz), I can see how someone may be inclined to think they are purchasing pure jasmine. This is not the case. This is simply a jasmine-like concoction of mainly (if not solely) synthetic molecules that is designed to replicate jasmine. It is not far off the jasmine base that I've described in my earlier article on jasmine, and is very potent. Certainly not something that I'd recommend wearing neat on the skin. It's just way too potent and harsh that way, and goes up your nostrils with a bit of a stinging sensation.

Okay, now I've diluted it to a normal eau de parfum concentration (in alcohol). Much better... But still, it's very cheap-smelling, and not convincing enough as a jasmine. I'm pretty sure that if it were to be blended with other notes, it would be okay, for example: if it were to be blended with fresh, citrusy or herbaceous essential oils, or with a true patchouli essential oil base - it will give it some more soul. Overall, it still smells flat, chemical (a combination of acetone and something else that still maintain a green sharp ice-needles in my nose, even after dilution). There is a hint of indole in the base that makes it feel a tad more real than other cheap jasmines I've smelled lately, but I would not wear it on its own as a soliflore, because it is just too harsh and sharp this way. But either way, I'm sorry to say that this goes down as a scrubber. I couldn't even do that too well - so I layered it with Brin de Réglisse and now I can breathe a little better... At least for a little while - the jasmine creeps up again after an hour or so, making both a scrubber once more!

For that price, or a little bit higher, you can get yourself a sample of pure jasmine absolute from a reputable supplier such as White Lotus Aromatics or Eden Botanicals, and dilute it in an oil of your choice (or get the jojoba-oil 10% dilution). I guarantee you will enjoy it much more. If you are interested in authentic, modern-day Arabian perfumes that are all-natural and beautifully crafted, I recommend you visit Amal Al-Kuwait's website. They are the real deal, and their Fatima perfume has loads of natural jasmine grandiflorum absolute, along with oud.

* “A compound of various raw materials (synthetic and/or natural) that are usually suspended in a base of DGP (dipropylene glycol).” 
- Excerpt From: Ayala Moriel. “Foundation of Natural Perfumery: A Practical Hands-on Guide for Creating Your Own Fragrances.” iBooks

Decoding Obscure Notes Part IX-C: Oud in Arabia & Perfumery


Agarwood has made its way from Southern Asia to Arabia by way of the spice caravans, and is known as “oud” in the region, which is also the name for wood, and for an Arabic musical instrument resembling the lute. The nomadic cultures of the Arabs and Bedouins have grown fond of oud’s fine and intense aroma and use it for both religious purposes and for pleasure. Oud has become an inseparable part from Arabic culture.

Oud chips and incense are burnt in an incense burner called mabakhir during the holy month of Ramadan, after breaking the daily fasting with a meal and showering, and before the evening prayers at the mosque. It is also incorporated into the Hadj ceremonies and is burnt during Eid.

Burning oud is considered a great honour, and is part of the customs of guest welcoming (when the host can afford it!). Hospitality is a custom that is held in much regard, and is considered a virtue in Arabia and in the Middle East. The hosts share their best commodities with their guests, no matter how rich or poor they are. What began out of necessity for survival in the desert by offering clean water and a feast to break the wonderer’s hunger has evolved into entertaining with more precious commodities such as coffee, sweets and burning the finest and most precious incense the host possesses.

Oud is also used to scent clothing by saturating the garments in agarwood smoke, a custom that interestingly enough is common to both Arabia and Japan.

Grading: Agarwood manufacturers classify agarwood into four distinct grades:
Grade 1 Black/True Agar: mainly exported to Arabia as incense Grade 2 Bantang: mainly exported to Arabia as incense Grade 3 Bhuta or Phuta: sometimes extracted for a superior oil Grade 4 Dhum: used for oil (Source: Cropwatch)

Perfumery:
The Arabs are particularly fond of oud oil, dehn al-oud, which they use as a personal fragrance. Because alcohol is forbidden in Islam, Arabian perfumes are traditionally either essential oils that are worn neat on the skin, or based in an oil carrier.
Agarwood is the most expensive natural essence known in perfumery, and therefore mostly been used by the royalty or nobelty, or wealthy merchants. Agarwood is more often than never used as a single note from a specific country and grade. And less often it is blended with other notes such as rose, sandalwood, musk, ambergris, etc. And as mentioned in the 1st part of the series, it is not uncommon for the oil to be adulterated with lodh oil and several synthetics.

Oud is also used in a lesser extent in Indian perfumery. I have with me a sample of “musk oud attar”, which is a very dark, musky, animalic oud distilled with other secret plant materials into sandalwood oil. It has great tenacity and longevity.

Agarwood is an unusual woody note that is rarely used in perfumery, because of it prohibitive cost. There is an increased interest in agarwood in the past decade, perhaps triggered by the release of M7 by YSL in 2002, which was the first Western commercial perfume to use agarwood as a distinct note. Until than, agarwood oil was mostly used by Arabian perfume companies (i.e.: Ajmal, Arabian Oud, Madini, Rasasi) and the odd niche perfume house (i.e.: Montale’s oud line).

Agarwood is used in luxurious Oriental and woody compositions. It creates a sensual, resinous-animalic or clean-woody warmth and blends well with resins, balsams, spices and precious florals to make outstanding perfumes. A little touch of agarwood can turn an otherwise simple and ordinary scent into a magical phenomenon.

Examples for contemporary perfumes with agarwood:
M7

Oud Abu Dabi

Oud Wood

Arabian Aud (Ayala Moriel) - one of a kind

Click here for more perfumes I've created containing agarwood.

P.s. We will come back later with more insights on oud in perfumery.

Structure and Philosophy


reflection symmetry, originally uploaded by Ray Wise.

Fragrance is a fleeting thing.
Fleeting, moving, ever-changing and not quite tangible – this art form demonstrates the passage of time in the most profound way and forces us to “live in the moment” so to speak. Even music, which acts in a similar way, can be re-created and re-lived by most people, simply by humming the tune.

The notion of something so fleeting having a “structure” always struck me as odd. I’m puzzled by it even more than how it is used in reference to music. I still remember that one piano lesson to which my stepfather unusually accompanied me. I was studying a sonatina by Mozart. My teacher and him were keenly trying to explain to me the concept of “symmetry” in classical music and how it is parallel to symmetric visual art. I was trying hard to grasp it, until I gave in and just pretended that I got it (incidentally, my stepfather, a painter, was obsessed with symmetry art all his life; which is perhaps why he always thought that if something goes wrong in his life, it should also go badly for everyone else – just for the sake of making things nice and even).

Things that pass through time work differently than still images or sculptures. The only way symmetry can be created is by perceiving the present and the future as relating to the past; being able to recreate the past while experiencing the present, and having some kind of anticipation of the future, based on a gestalt that was molded in the brain (although could be proven completely wrong).

Western perfumery is a relatively new invention; and like many things that travel from the East to the West (perfumery was developed in the Middle East and in Asia before anywhere else in the world) – it has taken a path of its own, making some things far more advanced (technology-wise), yet remaining rigid in many other ways. The “pyramid” structure that is so popularly used to explain and describe the evolution and so-called “structure” of perfume, although shaped like a pyramid, has nothing to do with Egypt (the culture that developed the first most complex perfume in the form of Kyphi incense); and says very little about a perfume’s behaviour and characteristics. The breakdown of notes into three stages is rather random, too. Even perfumes that have been designed to fit this paradigm, there are many more stages than that.

Ancient perfumery did not have “structure” in the sense that Western perfumery perceives its art form now. Egyptian perfumes, Asian perfumes, Arabian perfumes and Indian perfumes are created with completely different principles in mind. I am still trying to figure out what that might be, as literature in English barely exists on the subject; and I doubt if there is any official literature either. In India, perfumery is a family secret that is passed from father to son, and outsiders are rarely privy to this knowledge. What we do know is, that traditional Indian perfumes, which are called “attars” are created in a completely different technique and approach than Western perfumery. Attar is an Arabic word, which refers to the spirit or “ether” of the plants, i.e. the essential oil. The word “attar” or its permutation “otto” is often used to describe rose essential oil (in perfumery literature, it is referred to as “rose otto” or “attar of rose”).
Indian attars differ from modern perfumery on several levels. The most obvious are the technical ones:


1) The formulation process takes place with the raw materials prior to distillation. The spices, woods, resins, herbs, flowers and so on are measured and blended together in their raw state and only than placed in the still. I can only guess that the principles of blending these perfumes may be in tune with Ayurveda or spiritual and religious principles such as the chakra systems.
2) Sandalwood oil forms the base or “carrier” for Indian attars (much in the same vein that rather that alcohol or a fixed oil are used in modern perfumery). Thus, even the simplest attar will contain at least two botanicals. For example: Attar Motia is made from jasmine sambac (Jasminum sambac) which is distilled into the sandalwood (Santalum album) essential oil. Sandalwood oil is one of the few oils that can be worn neat on the skin, it has a rich, viscous and sensual teqture, and a very subtle aroma that deepens the perfume of single flowers and adds fixative qualities to the attar.
3) Last but not least, unlike modern Western perfumers, the Indian perfumers actually distill their own essence. They are in touch with the plants in their original raw state, and at times even pick them from the wild. Using a light, portable copper still, the perfumer can carry it on his back while entering the wilderness to collect flowers in their blooming season, be it from the coast, the jungle or the pond (for example: lotus and water lily have to be harvested while the perfumer goes .


The roots of modern Western perfumery are in alchemy – an art and a science that has began as early as ancient Egypt and later on re-discovered by the Muslims in the Middle Ages. The Arabic and Muslim alchemists further developed this esoteric mysticism into the scientific realms of chemistry and medicine as known today. The three principles of the Western “pyramid structure” actually correspond to the three alchemical principals – the “Tria Prima” which make up all matter: sulfur, mercury and salt.


Mercury is a passive principle, yet it is also very dynamic, which makes it a little more confusing to grasp, just as it is difficult to catch quicksilver, being both a metal and a liquid. It is associated with Luna, the feminine archetype; as well as the element of air or with water, cold and moisture. It is the most volatile. It also represents the human soul. The alchemical symbol is identical to that for the planet mercury: a circle with a crescent atop it, which does not represent the moon, but the winged messenger (the Greek god Hermes, aka as Mercury to the Romans). I find this interesting: being so volatile makes it transcend above matter and connect to the spiritual world. The top notes in a perfume have very much the role of “Mercury”: they are the most volatile, fleeting and difficult to grasp. Yet they are what gives the perfume vibrancy and are the first contact we have with the perfume. In a way, they are the “messenger”, the medium rather than the message... They invite us in to further explore what the perfume has to say.

Sulphur (the original spelling for “sulfur”) is the active principle, “The Red King”, Sol (the sun), associated with the element of fire – heat and dryness. The symbol for sulphur is a fire triangle mounted on the earth cross. It has a masculine and expansive force, and creates evaporation and dissolution. Within the aesthetics of Western perfumery – the heart notes are what make perfume a true perfume.

Salt is the stable, solid foundation. It is analogous to the physical body and to the earth. The alchemical symbol is of a circle with a horizontal line dividing between above and below; very similar to the symbol of the planet earth (a circle with a complete cross in the middle). It only is missing a divine force from above (a vertical line) to make it complete and complex with potential for life, like the earth. The base notes in the perfume are like salt: they provide the stability and the foundation for the perfume. They are what gives it a form. Being so less volatile makes the reliable and solid like salt. And with the added elements of the top notes and the heart notes, a dynamic entity is created, with vitality and movement. And of course the final and most important element which makes perfume complete and alive is the person wearing it.

Western perfumes were created with that philosophy, aesthetic values and “structure” in mind for hundreds of years, until commercialism got in the way, so to speak. In the early 1990’s, perfumes began to create linear perfumes. Sophia Grojsman’s Trésor (1990) was especially groundbreaking because it used very few ingredients to bring forth an abstract rose, instead of using many complex bases with hundreds of ingredients. “It is like drawing a flower—at first, you draw a heart and then you start by painting petals” – described Grojsman her process in an 2006 interview to Bois de Jasmine. Her approach was revolutionary at the time, and her perfumes have an unmistakable style – bold yet tender, focused (usually around rose) yet dynamic.

Trésor was just one of the first perfumes signaling the beginning of a trend of linear perfumes – it was not only simple (rose, vanilla and peach seem to be the main three notes), but also had very little in the way of evolution. But the first linear perfume per-se, created solely with that intention is Toacde (Maurice Roucel, 1994, for Rochas), where rose, magnolia, vanilla and a flat freshness of bergamot persists through the entire composition. Poême 1995 Jacques Cavallier was also an epitome of linear thinking.

Linear perfumes change very little if at all from start to finish, disregarding the element of time and replacing it with a static sculpture of molecules hanging in mid-air, and avoiding any relationship with the wearer’s skin.

It’s interesting that the first linear scents were so rosy… But the first ones were at least interesting. They were soon replaced by a humdrum of gourmands (a-la Angel, which also does not change much with its patchouli and caramel persistence) and clean, paired-down musk accords which are at times nothing but an insult to the consumer’s olfactory intelligence. While the first compositions seemed to have poise and elegance and purpose or thought behind them, the current state of affairs is that linear scents were adopted by the mainstream perfume industry as means to make more sales: what’s the point of having top notes if they disappear after half and hour or less? What’s the point of having any evolution at all, if the customer needs to spend days in sampling, experiencing the scent and making up their minds? It’s easiest to create something 100% homogenous, that will not be affected by factors as skin chemistry and just remain as the “trailer” (i.e.: the scent strip or fabric ribbon) promised.

Another confusing structural approach was presented in Allure (Chanel’s house perfumery, Jacques Polge). When it was launched in 1996, it promised a revolutionary structure where “facets” rather than an evolution from top to heart to base:
“No more top, middle and base notes. ALLURE dispenses with these traditional notions to embrace a multi-faceted approach. There are six of these facets to be exact, which overlap and harmonise with each other, no single facet becoming dominant over the others…”
(from Chanel's website).

The six facets were illustrated by a hexagon, divided into 6 triangles:
1) Fresh : Citron note.
2) Fruity : Sicilian Mandarin.
3) Timeless Floral : May Rose, Oriental Jasmine.
4) Imaginary Floral : Magnolia accord, Honeysuckle accord, Water lily accord.
5) Woody : Haitian Vetiver.
6) Oriental : Vanilla from Réunion.

A quick glance at this makes one wonder. After all: citron and mandarin (Sicilian or otherwise) are both top notes. The florals in facets 3 and 4 are all heart notes; and lastly, vetiver and vanilla (facets 5 and 6) are both base notes. What are they trying to say? That the perfume progresses gradually through its various notes (which is true to some extent)? That it revolves like a circle between those various facets? There is only one way to tell, which is to wear it and try it for yourself. I experience it mostly as a linear scent. There is none of the complex evolution that can be found in other Chanel perfumes (say, Bois des Îles).

Recently, I stumbled upon CrazyLibellule and the Poppies website, where the “Etoile Olfactive” (olfactory star) is used to illustrate the different notes. Which kind of olfactory evolution would this be? An explosion, perhaps?

The more I think about it, the more confused I become. And than I get back to my original view and perception of perfume: an art form that takes place in time, rather than space. If it has any structure it would be similar to that in a music, film or storytelling. And the perfumes that I want to create, wear, smell and experience are those that tell a story. And stories have a beginning, middle and an end.

My First Day in Paris

I arrived in Paris late on a gray morning and on the way from the airport was able to view the many chestnuts in blossom while experiencing some Parisian morning traffic jams. The apartment I’m staying is close to everything (walking distance from the Champs Elysees for one thing) is quite old and has very steep swirling staircase leading to it. There I met my boyfriend and his sister and we spent the entire day together.

After spending a couple of hours recovering from the longish trip and its various side effects (via Montreal – over all about 11-12 hours flight), which included eating fresh strawberries from the market and some baguette and trying to taste a ripened cheese with a sharp taste of cooked cauliflower, we left the apartment for the first little tour of Paris on the Champs Elysees. Our first stop was Sephora, a very short stop that is because the entrance was infested by what I could only describe as petroleum fumes. I had to leave before getting an idea of what’s in the store, but I did notice it was gigantic – almost like an entire mall of perfume and makeup! – and that there is some lighter version of KenzoAmour already out in France, that comes in a beautiful white bottle with gradually transparent edges. I left as soon as possible and immediately spotted Guerlain, which is almost the next door neighbour but decided to cross the street and have some tea at Laduree so I can recover some of my strength before the strenuous mental activity of perfume sniffing…

Laduree had the nicest muted turquoise-green entrance in a somewhat art-deco style with a butterly motif and purple accents. We sat at the bar at the back and had some of Laduree’s house-blend tea (very fragrant with roses and violets I suspect), and accompanied by some of their newest macaroons – mango & jasmine, muguet, bergamot and the violet-cassis ones. The mango and jasmine was mostly mango, with the slightest hint of jasmine and quite delicious with an almost jelly-like texture of the mango filling; the muguet tasted primarily of almonds, the bergamot was intense and impressive and the violet-cassis was a heavenly balance of floral sweetness and tart red fruits.
On the way to Laduree we spotted an Arabian Oud boutique and now was a good time to check it out. I smelled 5 types of oudh – two Indian and 3 Cambodian ouds, ranging from light and woody to smoky and animalic. My favourite was one mild Indian oudh and also another more smoky Cambodian oud. This is the first place I’ve seen that actually sells real oud as well as the oud wood chips. The shop owner was kind and knowledgeable and even let me take picture of him and the shop.

We than crossed the street and went over to Guerlain, where the walls of two story shop are stacked with shelves of perfume and eaux de cologne vats ranging from 500ml to 1 and 2 litres. On the second floor is where the exclusive perfumes reside – including Sous la Vent, which I had planned to impulsively buy on this trip and wear it in my 5 days in Paris so it would be how I remember the trip by. .. I tried it at Montreal once and was immediately smitten… I also smelled a few other perfumes there: Vetiver pour Elle, which I had hard time not buying on the spot as well (and my boyfriend loved too – he seems to be really into the vetivers I like – i.e. Sycamore and Vetiver Tonka and always comments on them). He was also smitten with white florals and I think Cruel Gardenia was his favourite. But than he’s also smitten with my gardenia plant that blooms in the middle of my living room…! I love the dry gin beginning of Sous la Vent. It is quite herbaceous and dry with only very little florals and gradually warms up into a chypre base with only the slightest hint of tonka bean. This is how I'm going to smell in the next few days...

By now it was time for dinner and we wanted to check out l’Atlas – a Morrocan restaurant at St. Germain. Unfortunately, 5pm was too early for them to be open and we had to find something else. Of course we knocked into another parfumerie on the way – Diptyque – and I got a chance to check out all the candles I was curious about (Flouve, Figue Vert, etc.) and their new eaux. I was particularly taken with the freesia soap though above all things.

We went on and had some cheese fondue in a little side street and got scratched by a friendly yet aggressive resident cat and than went home all the way through Notre-Dame and along the Sienne, going through the Louvre and Jardin de Tuilleries and than all along the Champs Elysees and Arc de Triumph.

Oud Omani



man with falcon, originally uploaded by dirkcush.

Strongly medicinal and camphoreous at first, so much that I fondly recall pharmacies and clinics from my childhood where I often visited as little bug-bitten girl to be treated with a cooling calamine lotion, ahhh.... Yet, what is at first an animalic-medicinal agarwood evolves into an elusive musk with raspberry undertones that are (not surprisingly) far more interesting and tasteful than Western mass produced oud interpretation, M7. It than develops some green undertones, reminiscent of spikenard and vetiver, but not quite. Smooth notes of rose appear, very subtle. Although it is not as agarwoody as I’d like it to be (being familiar with the raw materials), it surely radiates the exquisite natural luxury of agarwood, even though with the help of a few synthetics. The dry down of the oud from Oman is incensey, woody, musky, clean and masculine, very much like the smoke of a high quality sandalwood incense sticks.


, originally uploaded by ***•***•***.

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