![ClaireV]()
ClaireV
1
Buttery animalic floral chypre
Koh-i-Noor opens with a duvet-like whoosh of cheesy, stale musks that somehow manage to be saline and sweet all at once. Gardenia is probably responsible for the curdy, cream-cheesey saltiness, the Indian tuberose too. In general, I get the same ‘rancid floral butter’ impression as the wonderful lostinflowers by Strangelove NYC, which makes sense as lostinflowers also uses real gardenia absolute and an Indian attar approach to perfumery.
The florals, compressed into a big block of yellow butter, exhibit a texture greasy with costus, civet, and a goose fat facet that I can almost taste at the back of my throat. Like Oudh Infini (Dusita), the sensation is akin to swallowing creamy goat curd and getting that delayed response mechanism to the underlying funk, whereby you think at first, oh this is mild, but then that goat flavor starts to fill the back and sides of your mouth until there’s no room for anything else. Honestly, I’m both repulsed and attracted.
There’s an interesting dual texture thing going on, though. The oily costus-musk and big ole block of Indian floral butter is backlit by a hugely powdery rose or jasmine nag champa note. The dance back and forth is fascinating; sometimes you tune into the sweet powder, sometimes the scalpy wetness is all you can smell. The musks and florals smell expensive, luxurious – but the nag champa note is sweetly, cheaply powdery, like when you put your nose too closely to a stick of Indian incense and inhale too deeply, getting particles of incense dust in your nose hairs. This lurch between expensive and cheap is the real hook here. It’s what reels me in, making me sniff myself compulsively throughout the day.
Koh-i-Noor shares something of Chypre Palatin’s civety funk and powdery floral, but in truth, I find it to be far closer to vintage, pre-reform Gold Man (Amouage). I once worked with a guy who was drop dead gorgeous, but whose personal hygiene was so poor that every time he’d lean forward at a meeting, a waft of unwashed crotch, pasted down in several layers of deodorizing powders and sprays, would drift upwards to my nose. Gold Man, the vintage version at least, squirrels after much the same effect, which is to say it layers oppressively powdery musks and florals over a deeply funky base of unwashed crotch. However, Koh-i-Noor distinguishes itself from this company by way of that floral nag champa note. It’s the dance between the expensive (cream cheesey) musks and cheap, fizzy headshop incense powder that makes Koh-i-Noor such a fascinating fragrance. It’s the most interesting scent in the 4th generation of Areej Le Dore fragrances, although on a personal level, its constant lurch between greasy and dusty leaves me feeling a little queasy.
The far drydown is where the naturally powdery sweetness of the deer musk comes through, and fleshed out with sweet amber and florals, it smells incredibly moreish, chocolatey even. If you’re like me and love the collected smells of the incense aisle of your local Asian shop, the air thick with the powdery scent of individual nag champa sticks, musk cubes, cheap barkhour, and the entire range of Al Rehab oils, opened and sniffed by customers before you, then you’ll find 75% of Koh-i-Noor to be comforting and familiar. The stuffy, greasy wall of musk and florals at the start will be less familiar and even off-putting; but if you’re a fan of the powdered floral funk of the musks in vintage Gold Man, then you’ll be able to take the opening hour in your stride too.
Top Notes 
Siberian deer musk
Indonesian lemon
Heart Notes 
Indian oud
Mysore sandalwood
Champaca flower
Jasmine
Tonka bean
Ylang-ylang
Gardenia
Patchouli
Base Notes 
Benzoin
Jasmine sambac absolute
Tuberose
Amber
