Top Notes 
Sweet acacia
Hawthorn
Heart Notes 
Jasmine
Violet
Rose
Base Notes 
Musk
Vanilla
11/04/2024
PetitePinup
28 Reviews
PetitePinup
1
Pretty bottle, terrible scent
My experiences with fragrances from the UAE is that one can rarely judge them upon arrival. Often enough not even after a few days or even weeks. It's 'maturing' that needs to be done (not maceration; that's what happens during production), as I suspect that the majority of fragrance houses producing affordable perfumes barely take the time for any maceration, apart from the utmost necessities.
So, when a fragrance, in this case a perfume oil, arrives on my doorstep smelling - quite frankly - disgusting (or in the case of others, maybe like 'nothing', like 'one note' or alcohol) I won't push it towards my declutter shelf immediately. I let it (them) sit. For weeks or months.
Well, let me tell you; Narjis has gotten 1.5 years and still smells (almost) as rank as the day she arrived, begging for a spot of honour in my collection. With a fancy bottle like that I was eager to give it to Al Haramain's oily concoction, but despite all the possible maturing a fragrance could get Narjis didn't prove herself to be front row worthy. Worse, she isn't worthy of any row. Unless you count that declutter shelf.
Quite frankly, I almost snorted my tea through my nose when I saw the general rating here on Parfumo. Did I get a bad batch, or what?
It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly what I smell when encountering Narjis because it's so screechy. But I'll do my best.
Initially Narjis consisted of predominantly one very, almost extremely sharp, soapy scent. But not a soap you shower with. No, soap or a cleansing agent that's chemical
- industrial. We've just reached a factory that's had its machines cleaned out by the strongest, most astringent detergent. Far, far away, you can recognise that its producer wanted "something floral", but not wanting to pay too much they made do with the leftover, partially stomped and walked on, petals that scoured the floors of a real essential oil factory.
This floral-trash cleanser is the base, the core of the perfume oil, but shortly after the first very sharp blast there is a hint of urine. Equally ammonia- sharp. That was it. That was all - my initial meeting and follow ups in the months after with Narjis.
Now, one and a half years later, we're ever so lucky to once again burn our hair nostrils with the sharpness of the cheap industrial soap. But guess what. The acacia no longer reeks like cat urine, but finally makes you think - however soft and minimally there - of honey. Not a rich honey, but those squirty tube ones from the supermarket. Sweet, that's for sure, but not strong enough to push through the base.
The longer on the skin, the more the honey dissipates until it vanishes altogether under the rise of the violet. Powdery, but unfortunately also a tad sour. Where the violet diminishes the sharpness of the detergent accord, it isn't necessarily improving the overall fragrance much.
If you manage to stick with Narjis until and past the dry down it does give way to a tad more floral- ness without too much of the sharp and sour notes of before. But it'll never reach "Oh that's nice" status. Not to my nose and brain, at least.
If I were to categorise it I'd throw it in with the more awful toiletsprays. The ones that almost make you want to smell the Nr2 your predecessor just flushed. Everything not to smell that godawful cheap "floral" concoction. That's Narjis to me. And you'll probably understand that I won't turn this into a reed diffuser or spray to freshen up my toilet.
I have better room and home fragrances.
Asc it is I'm now scrubbing my hand furiously to get rid of any evidence Narjis has touched my skin. Al Haramain chose a nice bottle, worthy of the points given, but they would have been better off by focusing on creating a decent perfume.
So, when a fragrance, in this case a perfume oil, arrives on my doorstep smelling - quite frankly - disgusting (or in the case of others, maybe like 'nothing', like 'one note' or alcohol) I won't push it towards my declutter shelf immediately. I let it (them) sit. For weeks or months.
Well, let me tell you; Narjis has gotten 1.5 years and still smells (almost) as rank as the day she arrived, begging for a spot of honour in my collection. With a fancy bottle like that I was eager to give it to Al Haramain's oily concoction, but despite all the possible maturing a fragrance could get Narjis didn't prove herself to be front row worthy. Worse, she isn't worthy of any row. Unless you count that declutter shelf.
Quite frankly, I almost snorted my tea through my nose when I saw the general rating here on Parfumo. Did I get a bad batch, or what?
It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly what I smell when encountering Narjis because it's so screechy. But I'll do my best.
Initially Narjis consisted of predominantly one very, almost extremely sharp, soapy scent. But not a soap you shower with. No, soap or a cleansing agent that's chemical
- industrial. We've just reached a factory that's had its machines cleaned out by the strongest, most astringent detergent. Far, far away, you can recognise that its producer wanted "something floral", but not wanting to pay too much they made do with the leftover, partially stomped and walked on, petals that scoured the floors of a real essential oil factory.
This floral-trash cleanser is the base, the core of the perfume oil, but shortly after the first very sharp blast there is a hint of urine. Equally ammonia- sharp. That was it. That was all - my initial meeting and follow ups in the months after with Narjis.
Now, one and a half years later, we're ever so lucky to once again burn our hair nostrils with the sharpness of the cheap industrial soap. But guess what. The acacia no longer reeks like cat urine, but finally makes you think - however soft and minimally there - of honey. Not a rich honey, but those squirty tube ones from the supermarket. Sweet, that's for sure, but not strong enough to push through the base.
The longer on the skin, the more the honey dissipates until it vanishes altogether under the rise of the violet. Powdery, but unfortunately also a tad sour. Where the violet diminishes the sharpness of the detergent accord, it isn't necessarily improving the overall fragrance much.
If you manage to stick with Narjis until and past the dry down it does give way to a tad more floral- ness without too much of the sharp and sour notes of before. But it'll never reach "Oh that's nice" status. Not to my nose and brain, at least.
If I were to categorise it I'd throw it in with the more awful toiletsprays. The ones that almost make you want to smell the Nr2 your predecessor just flushed. Everything not to smell that godawful cheap "floral" concoction. That's Narjis to me. And you'll probably understand that I won't turn this into a reed diffuser or spray to freshen up my toilet.
I have better room and home fragrances.
Asc it is I'm now scrubbing my hand furiously to get rid of any evidence Narjis has touched my skin. Al Haramain chose a nice bottle, worthy of the points given, but they would have been better off by focusing on creating a decent perfume.
Samasamaa
DorothyGrace
