Mogador Benchaâbane

Mogador has a pompous demeanor, showing off its spices and carrying a name reminiscent of Arabian history. The ambergris in the pyramid fits the image, raises expectations of exclusivity ... but will it keep the promises?

To put things in order, the first impression derives from ginger, soon nutmeg and cardamom chime in and I think there might be a hint of cinnamon in the background.

The backhand greenish thuja (arbor vitae) is lovely, I must admit I would not have detected it without the cheat sheet but it is there indubitably reminding me of the many thuja needles (leaves?) I ground up between my fingernails as a child and never could get enough of.

As the base approaches the scent becomes more peaceful, the oriental notes seem to be unusually concentrated in the heart, so I'm highly expectant of the promised Ambra, which (I believe) I love in such scents as L'Air de Rien (why does the pyramid list amber when in my opinion there's so clear an abundance of ambergris?)m Fetish, Baldessarini EdC, the old Alyssa Ashley Ambergris Oil for Houbigant (not to be confused with the new Alyssa Ashley Ambre Gris, which is not bad at all but smells like the one from Perris Monte Carlo) or pure Ambergris Tincture ... so if any Ambergris is present the amount is certainly smaller.

To me the basis consists of a beautiful pure white musk like the one in White Linen (wasn't the previous J'Ai Osé incarnation similar? I believe I smelt it once but am not sure I got the name right). Stunningly beautiful, but more of a deer than a whale.

It is well known that women sometimes have strange ideas. When I recently stood with my wife early on a Saturday morning at our flower vendor at the weekly market, she dazzled me with the fantastic suggestion that we could take “that [almost man-high in the pot!] sugarloaf spruce over there and use it as our Christmas tree from now on.” The sixty euros they were asking for it was indeed a silly price, especially compared to the annual Nordmann tax. Nevertheless, it was undoubtedly a rather quirky plan to bring this pot inside every year during Advent and have oneself hand-acupunctured while decorating the densely needle-laden branches.

Well, perhaps the idea wasn’t entirely serious?

This, of course, sparked a brilliant thought of my own: I should dig up one of our thuja in the garden, put it in a pot, and once a year during Christmas time, place it in the living room for two weeks. That way, I would even save the sixty euros (and the forced acupuncture). I could hang it with, for example, spice decorations.

And that brings me to the topic. Well, to the presumed topic: thuja with borderline Christmas spices. Cardamom, nutmeg, ginger - they all fit perfectly. Only there is also an unmistakable and (for me; see below) clearly dominant cumin sweatiness. This fragrance contains cumin, and not in small amounts. Thus, I align myself with Angua's diagnosis. My Christmas premonitions came to a sudden end shortly after applying Mogador.

The wood seems to develop from a banana-like corner. Normally, this is an indicator of synthetic wood for me, but here the boundaries to cumin and its ilk somehow blur, so I hesitate to make a definitive statement. In any case, I find it difficult to orient myself in the scent, to approach it at all. I find the supposed thuja note more than diffuse, flattened by the aforementioned banana-cumin overlay. A rather helpless cedar addition gasps for air.

Beneath that, something sour forms around midday. This may be intended to evoke coniferous scents, but it still doesn’t really smell like thuja. It should be darker, more robust, more biting, at least if the green of the plant with its (allergenic!) essential oils is meant. From the afternoon onwards, I increasingly sense vanillic amber, served directly on the skin on a somewhat bitter from-my-side conifer, but significantly less penetrating than a true thuja can be. And bravely holding on is…well, you know who.

In the evening, I think a musk bed slides under the now undoubtedly justifiably tired pseudo-banana mixture. Heinz Ehrhardt might now recite a rhyme around “tired” and “tiring.” However, I am too tired for that.

I fear that Mogador simply suffers for me because cumin is one of my particularly attention-seeking notes. For me, it tends to push aside colleagues even with relatively gentle use. So this fragrance is probably just not suitable for me.

I thank Gerdi for the sample.

Apparently, Monsieur Benchaâbane put a lot of thought into his composition Mogador. Unfortunately, I have not yet been to Morocco or Mogador or Essaouira, but the scent seems to reflect the spirit of this city. The ingredient "life tree" seems to be typical for this place, even though I can hardly imagine what that means, especially not olfactorily.

Anyway - Mogador starts off very soft and spicy with a hint of fruity notes that remind me of pears, along with a slight boozy component. Fortunately, the latter dissipates quite quickly.
Alongside the amber, the subtle ginger increasingly comes to the forefront, sweet yet paired with gentle spice and pleasing woodiness. What develops from this is basically a kind of "Spicebomb" done well. Nothing is exaggerated or disturbing; everything flows and feels extraordinarily elegant.
Towards the end, the ginger predictably recedes, allowing amber, cardamom, and nutmeg to bring a harmonious conclusion.

Furthermore, I find that Mogador truly achieves the balance between a men's and women's fragrance - so it's genuinely unisex. Additionally, one cannot complain about insufficient sillage or weak longevity.

So, anyone looking for a soft, fruitily tinged, and subtly spicy scent with pleasant sweetness is welcome to embark on the olfactory journey to Mogador and engage in a positive encounter.

I am really not good at describing scents, but Mogador deserves a comment as it can truly compete with Soir de Marrakesh.

The opening is citrusy ambered. The real ambergris and cedarwood contained here keep the citrusy notes, likely held in check by the ginger.
They all go hand in hand throughout the day, with enormous longevity. It reminds me of lemon cake with amber. The fragrance has an incredible density and depth. At no point is it cloyingly citrusy and it smells very fresh, spicy, and radiates an immense warmth.
In my opinion, it is a classic unisex fragrance that delights both men and women.
I have never smelled anything quite like this combined in a fragrance.
Simply beautiful.

Many thanks to Mr. Benchaabane, who took some time today in Dortmund for a few Parfumos and me to showcase his creations. It was very interesting and nice to talk to the mind behind the scents, even though, like me, it was a bit challenging without any knowledge of French. But the most important thing was the creations that the good man had in his luggage. And these were truly powerful, memorable, and beautiful. I should have chosen the wonderful Soir de Marakesch as my first comment, from which he gave everyone a sample, but I simply took the unique opportunity to test the scent I liked best on my skin throughout the day. And that was the spicy-musty-and-yet-sweet-silky Mogador, although Fas and Sheraze(?) were also pleasant.

I don't know why I liked Mogador so much and why it stood out from the crowd. Probably mainly because, in my opinion, it came closest to a classic men's fragrance and seasoned this tried-and-true formula with a good dash of Arabness. Spices like nutmeg, cardamom, ginger, or perhaps cumin lie here on a bed of wood, amber, and sand. It vaguely reminds me of the new Beloved Man and hardly falls short of Amouage fragrances in terms of quality. Moreover, the scent immediately exuded a strong Arabic flair - soft, sweet, but also somewhat musty-marked and human-smelling. Similar to body odor, so it has a bit of a musty quality but leans more towards the sexually erotic direction. Only in the base does its musty leather note go a bit too far for me.

Bottle: I really liked the wooden caps. The bottles themselves are simple and unremarkable.
Sillage: I would almost say suitable for going out and hearty with a kick behind it.
Longevity: the perfume only slowly fades after 12 hours.

In any case, I wish Mr. Benchaabane all the best for his European trip and much success with the distribution of his beautiful, sunny-Arabian perfumes!