Jasmine
Spicy notes
Woody notes05/20/2025
ClaireV
958 Reviews
ClaireV
1
Startling and raw jasmine sambac
There is a certain poetry to the names and titles used in attar perfumery. Ruh al Mogra, for example, translates to ‘soul of Sambac jasmine’, a fitting name for what is essentially an essential oil distilled from Sambac jasmine flowers, with no carrier oil diluting the distillate. However, given the expense involved in producing even small quantities of a true ruh, it is unlikely that Nemat’s version, which costs $22 for four ounces (125 grams), is a pure essential oil. Indeed, the Nemat site is charmingly upfront about this, calling Ruh al Mogra a blend rather than a pure essential oil.
For all its lack of purity, Nemat’s Ruh al Mogra manages to pull off an impressively convincing accurate portrait of a Sambac jasmine essential oil. At first, it is pungently green and screeches with the nail-varnishy wail of benzyl acetate, the grapey isolate in jasmine that gives both ylang and jasmine their petrol-like fruitiness. This rather high-pitched opening might be a little nerve-wracking for anyone used to the creamy, fruity deliciousness of synthetic jasmine. But it is also authentic to the way pure jasmine essential oil smells, so do not write it off just yet. It gets better. The aroma then flattens out into a cool, damp, earthy smell that has more in common with old wooden furniture and animal fur than flowers. As the nose adjusts, one begins to perceive the very real, living aroma of a jasmine blooming on the vine. This is Arabian jasmine, so there is plenty of leathery spice and an indolic character, but it differs from other Arabian jasmine attars by being less coarsely fruity. There is an attractive dankness to this ruh suggestive of mud and closed-up rooms.
Once it settles, the jasmine aroma stays firmly in this earthy, musky track. Interestingly, many Indian sellers wrongly translate mogra as ambrette seed, and the scent of this ruh makes me wonder if this common misunderstanding stems from the vegetal, ambrette-seed kind of muskiness inherent to natural jasmine oil. Towards the far drydown, it becomes incredibly sour and musky – animalic to the point of offensiveness. Still, it retains a modicum of dignity sillage-wise, and never projects too vulgarly. This little oil is an education for the nose of a true jasmine lover. Despite its lack of purity or refinement, it gives a very good, naturally rugged picture of Arabian jasmine. Highly recommended for wearing alone or layered under other attars to give a blast of musky fecundity to whatever you’re wearing.
For all its lack of purity, Nemat’s Ruh al Mogra manages to pull off an impressively convincing accurate portrait of a Sambac jasmine essential oil. At first, it is pungently green and screeches with the nail-varnishy wail of benzyl acetate, the grapey isolate in jasmine that gives both ylang and jasmine their petrol-like fruitiness. This rather high-pitched opening might be a little nerve-wracking for anyone used to the creamy, fruity deliciousness of synthetic jasmine. But it is also authentic to the way pure jasmine essential oil smells, so do not write it off just yet. It gets better. The aroma then flattens out into a cool, damp, earthy smell that has more in common with old wooden furniture and animal fur than flowers. As the nose adjusts, one begins to perceive the very real, living aroma of a jasmine blooming on the vine. This is Arabian jasmine, so there is plenty of leathery spice and an indolic character, but it differs from other Arabian jasmine attars by being less coarsely fruity. There is an attractive dankness to this ruh suggestive of mud and closed-up rooms.
Once it settles, the jasmine aroma stays firmly in this earthy, musky track. Interestingly, many Indian sellers wrongly translate mogra as ambrette seed, and the scent of this ruh makes me wonder if this common misunderstanding stems from the vegetal, ambrette-seed kind of muskiness inherent to natural jasmine oil. Towards the far drydown, it becomes incredibly sour and musky – animalic to the point of offensiveness. Still, it retains a modicum of dignity sillage-wise, and never projects too vulgarly. This little oil is an education for the nose of a true jasmine lover. Despite its lack of purity or refinement, it gives a very good, naturally rugged picture of Arabian jasmine. Highly recommended for wearing alone or layered under other attars to give a blast of musky fecundity to whatever you’re wearing.
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