NeonNoir

Yes, yes, based on the expressive name, one might expect quite a few outbursts of anger here. But is the orange really as Angry as the name suggests? And are there perhaps similar fragrances that could be compared to it? Let's find out.

About the scent:

The fragrance opens with a wild mix of fruity citrus varieties, creamy-clean flowers, and mineral-wet amber traces. Contrary to expectations, the scent is not sour-citrusy. Rather soft-rounded, it almost gives off sunscreen vibes thanks to frangipani. Neroli supports and makes the scent shine even brighter. In between, there are occasional green notes that provide a nice contrast but do not stand out particularly. The ginger is present from the start, tingling slightly sharp, woody, and spicy. It beautifully connects with bright notes of cedar and a clean-creamy musky sweat. This also brings a light and fine spiciness. Additionally, sandalwood warms up and, together with vanilla and honeysuckle, delivers a heavy yet pleasant creaminess without becoming sweet in any way. In the dry down, the scent remains bright, mineral-fresh, and retains a slightly woody citrus note. Patchouli grounds it subtly. All in all, a very pleasant scent, especially for warmer days, which refreshes less but rather comes across as summery with "exotic"-creamy notes and also brings some depth.

And what about similarities?

Well, during testing, I inevitably found myself comparing it to other fragrances that take quite similar paths, and I wouldn't want to withhold that from anyone.

On one hand, we have Musk Cologne by Bortnikoff, and on the other, Sunshine Oud by MGO Duftanker. Angry Orange is the only fragrance among them with moist-mineral facets. These are primarily formed by ambergris, fitting harmoniously into the overall composition and making it truly exciting. Moreover, it actually feels the freshest of them all. However, it also has a slightly piercing note that occasionally comes to the fore. I can't quite determine where this originates from. Musk Cologne is somewhat more floral-sweet and softer. The musk, on the other hand, is indeed "dirtier," a bit more animalistic and spicier. Sunshine Oud is, in comparison, significantly more bitter-citrusy and herbaceous, creamier, vanillier, and also a touch spicier than "Angry Orange | Duftkumpels."

For me, Angry Orange thus forms an excellent bridge between the two other compositions. Each of them has its slightly distinct nuances. For owners of those fragrances, the comparison is definitely worthwhile, but in my opinion, an additional purchase may not be as necessary. However, for fans of this DNA direction, all are quite recommendable.

An energizing citrus scent that simultaneously has sweaty-animalistic traits?

It's a bit paradoxical, isn't it?

A brief analysis sheds some light on what the fragrance is and what it is not.

Furthermore, I would like to advocate for such works, which are sometimes hastily (and often unjustly) criticized.

But let's take it step by step:

We are greeted by a beautifully citrusy-sour opening of bitter-fruity yuzu. It’s as if you were smelling your fingers after peeling it. Complementing this is a sour civet note that immediately adds a warming spice, disperses a slightly animalistic flair, and connects wonderfully with the bitter notes of the citrus. A certain sharpness occasionally bites through, likely due to both the civet and the cloves. In the warming presence of cumin, the little kittens sweat subtly under their fur. After a short time, the fragrance transitions into softer notes as the citrus makes way. The rose is perceived as rather background floral and does not come across as juicy or fruity at all.

Additionally, slightly oily-floral and greenish notes emerge, which can probably be attributed to the synthetic additive Hedione. Hedione, also known as Methyl Dihydro Jasmonate, emits, as the name suggests, certain hints of jasmine. However, it does not come off as indolic here. Moreover, Hedione has the function and property of intensifying other notes in its presence.

Speaking of intensifying.

There is a certain synergistically acting Ambermax note that does not come across as synthetically harsh, as is often the case in the designer segment. Ambermax actually has a significantly higher impact compared to Ambroxan.

MGO has achieved a really pleasantly "smooth" dosage here. Not least likely due to the combination with real amber.

For some, this may certainly seem like sacrilege, I know.

Personally, I find this quite exciting, provided it is used and thought out sensibly, and I do not reject it out of hand. Undoubtedly, the use of such synthetic additives often leads to a stretching of natural ingredients or simply a price optimization. But increasingly, we are also seeing artisan works that rely on such support, where natural ingredients are "boosted" with a certain push, and ideally, it is in this symbiosis that their wonderful aromas can fully unfold or at least radiate longer and sometimes even beyond skin contact.

Until the dry down, the fragrance maintains a sour/(citrusy) base structure with slightly spicy-bitter-warming notes. If we can speak of sweetness at all, one can sense a minimal sweet-resinous labdanum trail that runs along the rose petals.

Overall, this fragrance is truly not designed for the broad public. It comes across as far too specific and idiosyncratic. In terms of projection/sillage, I would describe the fragrance as rather delicate despite the use of synthetics. This also shows how sparingly and carefully the mentioned substances have been used. However, the longevity on the skin is surprisingly enduring. For fans of animalic and citrus scents who can handle synthetic companions in a subtle manner, it is definitely worth a try.

A fragrance that is difficult to grasp at first.

Evolution finds and sometimes takes its own paths.

This fragrance combines high-quality natural ingredients from ancient traditions with synthetic aids from modern times.

And that was probably the intention of the perfumer, to sensibly unite decades of experience in the use and application of various ingredients.

What has emerged is a scent that somehow brings something from both worlds and can equally repel and excite in its revealing form.

From the very beginning, the fragrance exudes a powerful aura of primarily dry warmth with a hint of spice. Cedarwood is present here and combines with dry, light, slightly sweet oud and soft resinous balm, creating an almost ethereal connection. According to MGO, a 40-year-old Cambodian oud is used here, among other ingredients. One definitely searches in vain for "dirty" or even animalic notes from the oud. Yes, it is almost a "clean" oud. A faint rosy note subtly lingers in the background. Very soft and unobtrusive with perhaps a minimal fruity sweetness.

As it develops further, a muted, slightly peppery smoke reveals itself, leading to earthy and even green facets at times. Within the wood notes, a hint of sandalwood can be detected, which rounds the fragrance off and makes the resinous balm creamier. Additionally, a dry, coumarin-like note is recognizable, perhaps even a touch of vanilla, without making the fragrance truly sweet. A delicate hint of soft flowers adds some softness without drifting into floral territory.

But of course, the previously mentioned synthetic presence, consisting of Sylvamber dust and Ambrox veils, cannot be hidden. Depending on one's personal state of the day, this "component" comes into focus more or less strongly, and for me, it is completely tolerable and, in my opinion, well and sensibly integrated without standing out too harshly. Nevertheless, it could potentially overwhelm some "natural noses" here and there.

At the same time, the shadowy outlines of a musk creature can be discerned in the dense mist. Although it does not always present itself clearly at first, its presence can be felt. It always trots alongside, distributing its grounding calm, breathing with warm air, and carrying the finely spicy aromas from the Himalayan mountain ranges in its hoofprints. In the later dry down, the "synthesis fog" gradually clears, and a sweet-animalic musk becomes increasingly tangible. Beautiful!

With the help of these supporting roles of synthetic helpers, the fragrance can also significantly intensify its projection and sillage, whereas comparable fragrance creations can quickly become close to the body. Everything has its price...

Overall, it is a bright-projecting fragrance with a sweet-resinous balm note at its center, lightly spicy and creamy-soft balanced, and enveloped in dry woodiness.

As controversial as the fragrance may be for some, it is also special and unique in what it is and what it wants to represent. Evolution clearly knows no boundaries and cannot be easily stopped. Sometimes, a bit of courage and willingness to take risks is required. And that is exactly what MGO has definitely proven here, thus making its exciting, significant contribution to the evolutionary history of our fragrance world.

Who doesn’t know the relevant statements? But who is mistaken here? And is Mamluk perhaps even the better Ceylon? Let’s try to find out.

First of all, I want to point out that noses are definitely different, and depending on how experienced one is in the realm of "Orientals not tailored for the Western market," there can indeed be huge disagreements. However, to return to the admittedly provocative headline, I want to clarify that I cannot associate or interpret anything of the sort, although I do understand what some might perceive as "harsh" notes. At the same time, I want to alleviate the fears of those who might not have dared to approach these Orientals at all. The only thing that I believe is likely to truly shock here is the price...

But jokes aside. For those who find the scent really too extreme, it should be noted that there may be a more tolerable alternative. And that even from the same house. I am, of course, referring to Mamluk, also from the eponymous Oud-Stars line, and thus it is not unjustly often compared to Ceylon, which I will also briefly juxtapose. In parallel, I would also like to refer to my review of "Mamluk | XerJoff".

The most important points summarized:

Right from the opening, a dominant honey note spreads. This comes across in Ceylon as distinct and not overly sweet, as it simultaneously starts with sour-animalic notes. These are mainly formed from the Oud-musk mix and are slightly intensified by the acidity of bergamot. The musk itself is somewhat piercing here compared to Mamluk and is clearly on the animalic and less on the clean side. Malay Oud, if really used, is known for having edges and corners. By that, I don’t mean the edges of the agarwood chips, but rather the somewhat uneven and distinctive scent character. This certainly provides a certain depth and a slightly dark touch. Although the namesake of the scent is actually Ceylon tea, it must be clearly stated that this is consistently subordinate to the honey. As the scent develops, increasingly dry spices come into play. Definitely cinnamon. Perhaps even Ceylon cinnamon, as found in Xerjoff's Luxor. Soft woods and a sweet-bitter aromatic black tea aroma follow. This combination makes Ceylon very dense and simultaneously creates a wonderful warmth on the skin. After a few hours, a slightly sweet-balsamic base forms, which, however, remains long angular and spicy before it finally rounds off. What remains is a sweet-spicy honey vanilla with still clearly noticeable musk. Interestingly, Ceylon in the drydown is indeed a bit sweeter and less earthy than Mamluk.

Overall, I would describe Ceylon as the somewhat louder, edgier, and above all spicier, and thus more masculine version of Mamluk. Those who like to go all out not only with scents but also with spending money should definitely consider Ceylon. On the other hand, those who prefer something more balanced and finely tuned, seeking more floral notes and significantly fewer animalic hints, should rather focus on Mamluk.

All in all, two really great honey-based Orientals - both deserving of their existence.
One is more elegant, the other a bit "wilder."

Admittedly, it may not be so easy to answer this at first. The fact is, both are "Honey" Oud stars and actually resemble each other the most within the line. It’s not surprising, then, why these two fragrances are often compared.

But which one should you reach for?

This question could actually be answered relatively quickly if one pays full attention to the respective price tag for just a brief moment. However, if you are not too deterred by this fact and dare to make the comparison, you will find that both certainly deserve their place, as they each take slightly different paths. In the end, it really comes down to the individual taste of each person.

About the scent:

Mamluk is, compared to all the Oud stars, exceptionally rounded and harmoniously composed, and is one of the sweeter fragrances in this series. It starts fresh-floral. The sweetness contained in the flowers directly combines with that of the honey. The honey here is not sweet-pungent or artificial, as one often knows from honey fragrances, but truly creamy and smooth. Possibly, caramel-like notes support this creamy appearance, but Mamluk neither comes across as overly sweet nor intrusive. The gradually recognizable fruity scent component in the heart can likely be attributed to Osmanthus, bringing a certain complexity and is also wonderfully balanced. Furthermore, the fragrance creates a beautiful warmth and depth on the skin, has slightly woody notes, as well as a slightly earthy-dark touch. This is where the Oud comes into play. If Laos Oud was indeed used, there are no sour notes to be perceived, which makes the interplay even more harmonious. Only fruity and minimal smoky hints are favored in the scent.

In comparison, Ceylon has a more pronounced honey note, as it kicks off directly with slightly sour-animalistic notes. This makes it naturally more noticeable, but at the same time, it is clearly less pleasing. For some, it may also feel somewhat overwhelming or even chaotically arranged. If sensitive noses are already struggling with Mamluk, Ceylon could very well deliver the final blow. However, I do not want to delve into the wildly circulating "cheese anecdotes" or "cow stables" in the forum, as I do not really detect these in either fragrance. Mamluk has a relatively mild and tolerable Oud characteristic, whereas Ceylon's Malay Oud, paired with the truly animalistic musk in this case, pushes these specific notes a bit more to the forefront. Additionally, Mamluk lacks the amber/musk intensity, which never makes it unpleasantly piercing, and I really like that.

By at least 6 hours in, you can indeed notice how the two fragrances come closer together, especially regarding the vanilla sweetness. Mamluk remains consistently more floral. Ceylon is somewhat darker, denser, warmer, and above all, spicier. Mamluk manages without any spices. Both fragrances last comfortably throughout the day on the skin. On the test strip, they last several days. In the end, Mamluk remains a bit quieter. Personally, I would say that none of them are sillage monsters, just to put it out there. Sensitive noses will still have their fun and get their money's worth. :-)

Overall, I would consider Mamluk to be the floral, perhaps even more feminine, and definitely more finely balanced version of Ceylon. Those who want to experience the louder, edgier, and wilder version of these oriental creations will have to reach a bit deeper into their pockets.

For me, who generally tends to avoid honey fragrances, both are beautifully composed, as they are harmonious within themselves and thus wearable without being annoying or exhausting. Nevertheless, they are definitely not blind buys. A test is therefore highly recommended.