11/28/2017
Elysium
887 Reviews
Elysium
Very helpful Review
4
The Conflict Between Good and Evil
Sultan. A title rooted in authority, power, and reverence. And Musk Sultan truly earns every bit of that name. A scent that commands attention without shouting, noble in both spirit and execution.
I blind bought it back in November 2017, while chasing after Acqua di Parisis Essenza Intensa - Wild Oud and Acqua di Parisis Essenza Intensa - Black Oud. I stumbled upon this one by accident, noticed the price was a steal for an EDP, and thought—why not? Little did I know I was welcoming a wholly unique character into my wardrobe. And believe me, out of the nearly 400 fragrances I own, none of them smell like this.
What does it smell like? Let me put it this way: Musk Sultan is a symphony of contradictions. It’s floral, it’s musky, it’s modern—and it’s absolutely unforgettable.
The first spray hits like a cinematic cut: fresh Italian citrus, not overpowering, but just enough to brighten the stage. Quickly joined by an intricate floral chord—crisp grapefruit peel, petitgrain, and freesia. Think of freesia like a breeze of morning air through white curtains. Maybe even a whisper of lily-of-the-valley. Ethereal.
Then enters the rose. Not a playful pink rose, nor the sweet syrupy kind. No. This is a rose of shadows. Deep crimson, with near-black undertones—like the velvet petals you’d see in a gothic garden. You know the type. Occasionally, I even catch a fleeting violet-like note reminiscent of *Grey Flannel*, delicate and powdery, but never green or herbal. Perhaps it's jasmine playing tricks instead. Either way, the floral heart is stunning.
And then it shifts. The light starts to fade, and something darker stirs beneath the surface. A musky, earthy presence creeps in. Not animalic in an aggressive way—more refined, like aged moss and resin soaked into ancient stone. White musk, oakmoss, maybe even labdanum or a modern, clean patchouli—all textured, grounding the floral beauty with masculine depth. It becomes this compelling push-and-pull between airy innocence and grounded mystery.
That duality is Musk Sultan’s essence: the eternal battle between Good and Evil. The gentle floral innocence held by the rose, and the seductive dark pull of musk and woods. The contrast is magnetic—but the battle ends in harmony. Both sides win. And you win by wearing it.
To my nose, this isn’t a heavy evening rose, nor is it your typical musk bomb. It’s complex, but wearable. Dark, yet never suffocating. It’s like wandering through the cold corridors of a Benedictine abbey. Picture "The Name of the Rose": ancient stone, echoes of whispers, candlelight flickering across wooden shelves... then, from a high window, a ray of daylight illuminating a solitary blackened rose in the monastery garden. That’s the atmosphere bottled here.
Eau de Parfum concentration makes it ideal for fall and winter. I’d go easy during spring, but I’ll try it anyway—I’m curious. Longevity? Outstanding. I’ve worn it all day, and it still lingers. In fact, I rewrote this review the morning after spraying it, right before jumping into the shower. Took off my shirt and—boom! Still alive. Still floral. Still musky. Still mysterious.
A sleeper masterpiece in every sense. One of the finest executions of floral-musk I’ve encountered, and a rare standout in a crowded wardrobe.
10/10. No doubt.
— Elysium
I blind bought it back in November 2017, while chasing after Acqua di Parisis Essenza Intensa - Wild Oud and Acqua di Parisis Essenza Intensa - Black Oud. I stumbled upon this one by accident, noticed the price was a steal for an EDP, and thought—why not? Little did I know I was welcoming a wholly unique character into my wardrobe. And believe me, out of the nearly 400 fragrances I own, none of them smell like this.
What does it smell like? Let me put it this way: Musk Sultan is a symphony of contradictions. It’s floral, it’s musky, it’s modern—and it’s absolutely unforgettable.
The first spray hits like a cinematic cut: fresh Italian citrus, not overpowering, but just enough to brighten the stage. Quickly joined by an intricate floral chord—crisp grapefruit peel, petitgrain, and freesia. Think of freesia like a breeze of morning air through white curtains. Maybe even a whisper of lily-of-the-valley. Ethereal.
Then enters the rose. Not a playful pink rose, nor the sweet syrupy kind. No. This is a rose of shadows. Deep crimson, with near-black undertones—like the velvet petals you’d see in a gothic garden. You know the type. Occasionally, I even catch a fleeting violet-like note reminiscent of *Grey Flannel*, delicate and powdery, but never green or herbal. Perhaps it's jasmine playing tricks instead. Either way, the floral heart is stunning.
And then it shifts. The light starts to fade, and something darker stirs beneath the surface. A musky, earthy presence creeps in. Not animalic in an aggressive way—more refined, like aged moss and resin soaked into ancient stone. White musk, oakmoss, maybe even labdanum or a modern, clean patchouli—all textured, grounding the floral beauty with masculine depth. It becomes this compelling push-and-pull between airy innocence and grounded mystery.
That duality is Musk Sultan’s essence: the eternal battle between Good and Evil. The gentle floral innocence held by the rose, and the seductive dark pull of musk and woods. The contrast is magnetic—but the battle ends in harmony. Both sides win. And you win by wearing it.
To my nose, this isn’t a heavy evening rose, nor is it your typical musk bomb. It’s complex, but wearable. Dark, yet never suffocating. It’s like wandering through the cold corridors of a Benedictine abbey. Picture "The Name of the Rose": ancient stone, echoes of whispers, candlelight flickering across wooden shelves... then, from a high window, a ray of daylight illuminating a solitary blackened rose in the monastery garden. That’s the atmosphere bottled here.
Eau de Parfum concentration makes it ideal for fall and winter. I’d go easy during spring, but I’ll try it anyway—I’m curious. Longevity? Outstanding. I’ve worn it all day, and it still lingers. In fact, I rewrote this review the morning after spraying it, right before jumping into the shower. Took off my shirt and—boom! Still alive. Still floral. Still musky. Still mysterious.
A sleeper masterpiece in every sense. One of the finest executions of floral-musk I’ve encountered, and a rare standout in a crowded wardrobe.
10/10. No doubt.
— Elysium
Elysium
