Ouranon Aēsop 2023

Resinous and spicy, and a little barnyard (but in a clean way like wood/earth and hay, not manure and animalics). The opening has a blast of a sweetish/syrupy lavender that doesn't immediately fade but transitions really well into the hay/chamomile mid notes. The base is primarily myrrh and frankincense, with a slightly metallic earthy note. Dry and spicy, perfect for this autumnal shoulder season where it's bright and crisp. The PR copy text referencing "embers unfurling into a starry sky" is unusually apt.

Performance overall is low-moderate like most Aesop fragrances: Projection is intimate but noticeable, sillage is minimal, and longevity is moderate. You're unlikely to choke people out with this unless you really overspray, but I generally prefer more intimate and fleeting scents over nuclear beastmode scents anyway.

This one has reeaaaallly grown on me. I got a sample with a lil purchase of gifts from Aesop last month, and it was nice but not immediately captivating (especially at $200/50ml??? Way too expensive). But something about the dry/spicy character was interesting and when i saw a deal online i snapped it up. Since then it's become an almost-daily wear for me. It's great during both the day and evening. It also blends nicely with the scent of the dead leaves and cold air outside but stays warm and comforting enough to pair really well with the chunky knit sweaters and neutral tones i like for my outfits this time of year.

I wouldn't call it groundbreaking, but it's interesting and very wearable. A return to form after much of the Othertopias feeling like a misstep. I find it shares a lot of similarity to Aesop Tacit, but while that's an excellent spring/summer scent Ouranon is like its twin fall/winter scent. They share a similar profile/vibe to my nose even though the notes couldn't be more different.

Sniffed the whole line in store last fall, and this was by far my favorite. Something about the blend of resinous notes with the herbal ones makes me sense a thin rubbery texture that I find very intriguing. Clearly, not for everyone, though. This week, I thought to stop by the store again to sniff it and sadly discovered that it has been discontinued. I was told some stores in New York. Do you have a small stash still but removed from the shelves so you must ask for it specifically. I’ll continue my hunt! Knowing that it’s discontinued only makes me want it more.

Lately, I've been visiting Pegan Hill in Dover, MA. At the crest of this 410 foot tall glacial drumlin, a wide clearance was made by the local indigenous peoples for cropland and pasture in the late 17th century. These Pegan Indians, as they were called, had sadly perished by the 1760s, and settlers had taken over this farmland. What now remains are only the stone walls as evidence of these farming days of long ago. Great meadows now exist where the crops were raised and cattle would graze, and when the sun warms the weeds, grasses, and wildflowers, there emits an unforgettable aroma of resinous verdure, albeit somewhat dry and dusty. Clover, sedge, chamomile, joe pye weed, yarrow, all grow in abundance.

Ouranon is as contemplative as these visits to Pegan Hill, wandering through the wide open spaces, catching whiffs of sun-baked herbaceous vegetation and hay-like grasses that are hemmed with these time-worn stone walls. Chamomile is the standout accord here. Olibanum runs through Ouranon like a cool current, imparting sort of a druidry to it, as if I am witnessing a nature-connecting ritual. Its energy is slow and quiet but nonetheless impactful, especially as it is anchored with a significant amount of bittersweet, mineral-like myrrh resinoid and what I perceive as a particularly dry and chewy labdanum. Ouranon ruptured the growing cynicism I had toward Aesop aiming to convince the consumer that they are authentically nature-based, so I applaud them for actually "going there" with such a creation, even at the risk of commercial viability. It's a splendiferous addition to my collection of agrestic smelly waters.

I recently read in large letters on the facade of the Deutsche Oper, and I found it wonderfully theatrical. The phrase is borrowed from the little-known opera 'Written on Skin' by contemporary British composer George Benjamin, which celebrated its acclaimed premiere at the Festival d'Aix-en-Provence in 2012 and tells a disturbing parable of love, power, and jealousy based on medieval Occitan texts.

The fragrances of the Aēsop label are not disturbing, yet all of them are not approachable, let alone banal. They demand introspection and a certain seriousness. Even comparatively summery beings like Karst and Tacit refuse carefreeness and lightness. They all command reflection and calm, and Ouranon, the youngest among them, joins this melancholic circle, being pale and mineral-distant.

'Do you swear me eternal pain?' it asks with all the drama that resins are already capable of formulating in the top note. It is heavy, cool, and dry - like driftwood on lightless shores, dark plant juices with almost pharmaceutical hints, bitter and silent. Just as little as Petitgrain gives lightness to the top note, so little reconciliation does the tonka bean provide to its base - it remains serious and shadowed through and through.

Conclusion: with all the love for the theatrical, with all the appreciation of its concept - too little light and too much drama. Nevertheless, very beautiful and consistent for those who consciously seek this drama.

I immediately said yes upon spraying. A clear scent with a mysterious depth - woody and spicy. Frankincense and myrrh evoke something cozy and calming.
Sensually balsamic but not too sweet - I was initially totally taken with the fragrance. However, it changed on my skin after a while and my enthusiasm noticeably waned - something heavy, almost overpowering, developed on my skin. What a pity, it unfortunately cannot hold what the scent promises at the beginning.