Montale Black Oud vs Czech & Speake Dark Rose

I have had samples of both Black Oud and Dark Rose for some time now and have worn these two regularly over the last eighteen months. To my mind, I thought they were quite similar, so thought I would wear them side by side, one on each wrist. Readers of my blog might know that I am generally quite a fan of both oud and rose perfumes, and the combination of the two can be stunning and is a tried-and-tested duo. I went through a bit of a rose fetish a while back and more recently on an oud bender.  Black Oud is one Montale that always seems to encourage debate - just visit the Basenotes reviews for example, and you will see what I mean. Dark Rose is less well known perhaps, but perhaps the Czech and Speake line as a whole is becoming better known, as recently (i.e the last eighteen months) they have stepped up their marketing, at least in the UK. 

Black Oud opens with a strong medicinal blast, a common theme in the Montale Oud series. Any western nose familiar with more Western-based oud perfumes will recognise this accord. It's quite an oily perfume on skin, suggestive of its concentration and strength. The powerful opening is quite astringent and pungent and I can see some people being put off by this. The rose emerges quite quickly and it isn't a fresh, green, dewy rose; rather it is quite sweet and earthy. At the same time there is a sourness as well, which might be citrus, but I'm not sure. The heart is rose and oud; no surprises there. There is some patchouli here too (some say a lot) but I never find it that obvious, although it might lend that earthiness I was referring to. The rose is of high quality I think, but I do find that Black Oud wears very differently on my skin depending on the season. In winter the rose can come across quite sour and thin, but in heat it blooms and becomes gorgeously sweet and rich. I would say that Black Rose is quite linear. Once you get past the medicinal oud opening, the rest is pretty much rose and a bit of woods, but amped up, so that what you get is a bold, intense and long-lasting perfume. In fact, sometimes Black Oud's intensity and linearity bores me, as it goes on and on, without really altering. However, in warm weather it definitely reveals a more interesting facet. I wore Black Oud a few months ago at the height of the South African summer, when I was out there on holiday. The woody subtleties of the fragrance were revealed, and as I said, the rose more well-rounded. In the gloom and cold of a northern winter, Black Oud can be rather severe and constant, at least on my skin.

Dark Rose also opens with a medicinal oud edge, but is much more restrained than Black Oud. There is also a slight soapiness to the opening which surprised me. The rose is very prominent, perhaps more so than Black Oud's, but it is perhaps less sweet and a bit greener. Other than that, the first half wears fairly similar to Black Oud. As the fragrance progresses, I feel that it is thinner and less rich than Black Oud, almost watered down by comparison. I think Dark Rose is still well done, and one might find it more to their liking if Montale's ouds come across as too strong and forceful.

Having worn these side by side, I find that they are not quite as similar as I first thought wearing them separately. My personal preference is for Black Oud, which I find richer, more complex, has a better and more realistic rose note and somehow its sweeter character suits the rose more, in my opinion. That's not to say that Dark Rose is a poor fragrance; it isn't, and if you are someone who likes, or is interested in, rose and oud perfumes, I would certainly recommend trying them both. I would say that both tend to be more masculine in character, but particular with Black Oud, I think the sweet rose brings it back more into unisex territory and I can't see why a woman could not at least try it.

Image credit: florissential.co.uk

Montale Greyland and Les Nez Let Me Play the Lion

I've had samples of Greyland and LMPTL for ages. I've always found them to be quite similar fragrances, so thought I would do a side-by-side review of the two today. The notes for Greyland are cedar, teak, sandalwood, pepper, elemi, cardamom, musk, benzoin and rock rose while those for LMPTL are sandalwood, cedar, incense and spices. As you can see, the notes are similar and the key here is the use of sandalwood and cedar. Greyland opens dry, with plenty of cedar, the sort that screams iso-e super, I suspect. I don't detect much else. It's not sweet, and I don't find it particularly spicy, despite the use apparently of pepper, elemi and cardamom. It's quite a strange opening. In the heart this becomes mostly about cedar and again, I struggle to detect much else. There is perhaps an ever-so-slight skankiness which might come from the rock rose and musk, but the overiding feel of this fragrance is harsh and dry. The sandalwood fails to make much of an impact, but the obvious association for me is to 10 Corso Como, with less sandalwood. It isn't a poor fragrance, but I honestly find it a bit boring.

LMPTL opens a bit sweeter than Greyland, but again, is a strongly cedar-dominant fragrance. There is more of a creaminess from the sandalwood, which is more apparent here. I don't know if my mind is drawing associations from the name, but there is a feel to this perfume that smells 'hot' - a little like dusty, grassy savannah, but having said that, the name comes from a Shakesperean play I think and has little if anything to do with lions themselves, but there you have it! Again, like with Greyland, I draw comparisons with 10 Corso Como. The fragrance overall is sweeter than Greyland and has more sandalwood. There is an incense in here too, which makes LMPTL wear even more like Corso Como than the other.

In summary, if I were to choose I think I would take LMPTL over Greyland. It is that little bit more interesting, but not by much. As I have samples of both of these and 10 Corso Como, I think I have three to choose from that are remarkeably similar, and in my opinion, all a little dull, if well-executed. Having said that, give one or all of them a try, if you haven't done so already. You never know.

Image credit: http://fotoblog.refocus.de/images/

Abdul Samad al Qurashi

I have recently become quite interested in Middle Eastern perfume, or at least, the concept of it. I say this because up to now, my only exposure to this style/idea has been through sampling the Amouage line and trying some of the Montale ouds. However, I have not tried anything from perfume houses that are, to me at least, slightly more exotic and less accessible. Price is probably one factor, particularly with real oud, which can be prohibitively expensive, and another consideration is that unknown factor; the fear that who you're buying from over the internet is some fraudster. Perhaps I am too conservative. In any event, I ordered some samples of oils/blends through The Perfumed Court that are made by Abdul Samad Al Qurashi. At least I think they are. I get a bit confused by perfumes made, marketed and sold in the Middle East because the names can be quite confusing to a westerner, and very often an outlet may stock a number of perfumes by different manufacturers. I ordered the Al Qurashi Blend, Musk a Ajeeb oil and an Oud Musk attar. 

The blend is a wonderful classic combination of oud, saffron and rose, with some woody notes. If this sounds familiar, you're right. If you've ever tried a Montale oud, such as Black Oud, for example, this will be a very familiar association. In fact, in many ways the blend is almost a dead ringer for Black Oud, but where it excels is in the superior blending, at least in my opinion. It opens with that medicinal, band aid oud and saffron accord, perhaps a bit less pungent than Black Oud, but quite assertive nevertheless. The saffron is beautifully  aromatic, spicy and dry, and there's just enough dewy, slightly sweet rose in the background to balance the oud and saffron. Whereas Black Oud assaults one's senses, Qurashi blend feels like a better-balanced, more refined take on oud, rose and saffron. What I find interesting is that after the initial medicinal opening, the oud shifts to a more woody, slightly musty/mushroomy accord, quite similar to that encountered in By Kilian's Pure Oud. I apologise if I am using western oud perfumes as a reference point, but I have not been fortunate enough to try the real stuff and therefore I have no idea whether the Qurashi blend contains any real oud, or if it is entirely synthetic. But I don't think it matters; it smells wonderful anyway. The rose thickens to a jammy, sweet syrup, which counterbalances the drier and woody oud perfectly. In the dry down the notes all soften considerably, until what is left is a dry wood and oud accord, which is quite lovely.  I find Qurashi blend to have more clarity than Black Oud. I detect each one of its notes more distinctly, whereas Black Oud muddies the waters a bit, in my opinion. I do like Black Oud, but I just find the Qurashi blend to be a more sophisticated and clearer take on this classic combination.

I am not going to review the two musks I sampled; this will be the subject of another post, as I think they warrant separate discussion. However, what I will say at the outset is that I found these musks to be totally confusing, and they have possibly permanently altered my perceptions of musk. If that sounds confusing, it is! All I do know is that as someone who enjoys musk, particularly animalic musk, and admittedly has only really tried a number of more mainstream/Western-style musks, I could not get my head around these. 

To end, I would certainly encourage you to try some of the Abdul Samad al Qurashi blends or oils. I'm sure some would be hit or miss, but they are certainly different and very interesting.

Spice and amber - Ambre Russe and Caravelle Epicee

I have had samples of Ambre Russe (Parfum D'Empire) and Caravelle Epicee (Frapin et Cie) for quite some time now. Both were purchased from Les Senteurs in London. Incidentally, I don't know if any of you know of Les Senteurs, but they are a small business in London's Belgravia, selling some wonderful niche fragrances. If you visit them personally, they will usually be more than happy to provide you with samples. If you aren't able to visit, they will mail you 6 samples (generous quantities I might add) for £18. 


When I first tried these, I think it was in winter, or possibly very early spring. All I know is that neither spoke to me and I felt that they were decent, but unremarkable. I put them to one side, but recently I dug them out of my mucky scent sin bag, looked at them and then thought: "what the hell, lets give these two another go...." I'm not quite sure what made me try one on each wrist; its something I do quite often actually. I think I'm just greedy for scent. Thinking about it now, I think it was the booze that did it. No, I wasn't inebriated, but both these fragrances have boozy notes and I felt like comparing them side by side. 


Both fragrances open in an alcoholic haze. Ambre Russe has a top note of Vodka, and it opens dry and slightly vegetal, like potato-distilled alcohol. It isn't overtly boozy, but within a minute or so it sweetens slightly, when I detect a touch of patchouli, amber and something herbal. I'm not sure about herbs, it could be lavender or perhaps cardamom? There is a leather note in there as well, but it veers towards the fruity side rather than the fetish/leather jacket club, with a hint of smoke. I felt that at this point it bore a resemblance to Caravelle Epicee, but less boozy and sweet. In the heart the amber really comes to the fore and what a great amber it is. The funny thing is, when I first tried this last year, I never really got a serious amber note, yet months on, it hits me right between the eyes. Is this just me having a better-trained nose and more perfume exposure, or is it a seasonal, skin chemistry thing? This fragrance is sweet, but like the best of Serge Lutens, for example, this is tempered by the balance of herbs and spices. The dry down is amber, lightly spiced, dryish, yet enough sweetness to please those who like that style of amber. If I were to classify or pigeon hole this, I would say it is a bit like a cross between Serge's Ambre Sultan and Montale's Blue Amber. It is a complex and rich fragrance and I definitely give it a strong thumbs up.


Caravelle Epicee opens with booze too, but its cognac this time, sweet, heady but again, cleverly tempered with herbs and spices, so it never becomes cloying. The sweetness is rounded with an oaky, caramelness not unlike what one would expect from an oak barrel in which the cognac was aged. Its a clever touch. I detect herbs and a slight floralness which might be lavender or sage, but honestly, I'm not sure. There is a smokiness in this fragrance too, more charred barrel than burning wood, that weaves in and out, almost incense-like, and as tobacco and cumin seep through in the heart, I'm swooning. I can't believe how much cumin I detect (having not noticed previously, until I read a review of Ines, of All I Am, A Redhead blog). Its wonderful, and with the nutmeg and pepper, forms a formidable spice combo. Although sweet, there is a slightly sour tang that balances things. In the dry down, I am reminded of sitting in a library, comfey in a leather armchair in front of the fire, glass of cognac in hand - perhaps I am just being fanciful!  Ironically, despite the winter comfort scene, I actually think Caravelle Epicee performs better on my skin in warmer weather. This is also a complex, lush and lovely perfume.


I think these are both beautiful fragrances. I think they bear similarities in that both have a booze top note, spices and smoke. Where they differ the most is that Ambre Russe is ultimately all about amber, while Caravelle Epicee is mostly about cognac and spices, yet both are sweet, but balanced, without ever becoming cloying. Both work better in warmer weather in my opinion, despite them being ironically comfort scents, at least to my nose. I recommend both wholeheartedly.