PetitePinup
Reviews
Filter & Sort
Detailed
First impressions!
I originally used a Statement for my 1st impression, but can't say all I want. So... review it is! With the promise of an update after the necessary "ageing months"
I finally opened my Qawa bottle a few days ago. I'm a big OG Khamrah fan. (I'm also very opposed to the idea Khamrah is a dupe for Angel's Share. It isn't. Wish people would stop saying that. I even think it was never meant to be - but for that you can read my review on the stuff.) My skin tends to pull the typically thought of as 'masculine' notes much more and thus a fragrance needs to be truly sweet to actually register as a bit or moderately sweet on my body. I think that's why Khamrah and I are such a match made in compliment-heaven. I don't smell like I've rolled in sugar, but I still smell edible enough to be interesting. Every time I wear it, I receive at least one compliment.
Due to my difficult skin chemistry I actually feared Qawa would be too coffee & spice forward on me. And after having bought and tried
Dahaab Saafi and Eternal Coffee by Paris Corner (both for sale) I now know that coffee forward fragrances are not for me. However, Qawa turned from a potential fear into a current disappointment.
While I do register some differences, they're minimal: Khamrah Qawa, upon 1st spray, is simply too much like its predecessor for me.
In Khamrah OG I get a cinnamon rich, tuberose turned coconut cream on luscious praline induced vanilla with a brandewyne-like boozy warmth in the opening that softens in the heart and completely disappears in the drydown. Depending on the climate I sometimes get a bit of that much discussed apple pie in the opening, but that happens so rarely it can be ignored.
Qawa? Almost identical in the first few seconds, but for a soft ginger note. When longer on my hand I notice a few more differences. The influence of the tuberose turned coconut becomes almost absent, and the same cinnamon is not so apparent in the drydown either. There is a booziness that seems more ginger infused instead of fruit based, but at the moment it's a barely-there thing. I know there must be extra spices in there because something prickles in my nose when I go close to my hand, but Qawa isn't giving up its secrets yet.
The sweetness is pretty much the same thick praline vanilla at first, but Qawa does lose about 25%. In the late drydown the vanilla takes a big step back in the flanker, resting more on that as of yet unidentifiable accord, whereas OG Khamrah remains being cinnamon-vanilla 'heavy'. Once matured, I think here lies the actual difference between the OG and Qawa: a strong ginger (+ other spices?) a lighter cinnamon, maybe a hint of coffee and certainly a much 'thinner', less sweet vanilla with a different type boozy opening under the influence of those spices. But we'll see if I'm right soon enough.
While the current minimal differences - I don't think they'll be picked up by most - are disappointing, I can't say anything bad about the performance. For a first spray the lasting power is bizarre. Bizarrely good. The OG lasts between 10-12hrs on my perfume eating skin in ideal circumstances, with its intensity diminishing after a few hours. Qawa might be beastmode. I could still smell this on my hand (1 single spray!) after 16 hours, and that one spray was pretty clear for a full workday as well. I can't wait to see what happens after this juice matures.
To be fair to baby Qawa when it comes to my "Meh" opinion: the bottle was just opened and it's a Lattafa - THE brand that has invented "consumer-maceration", or maturing I should say. This can't be anything other than an extensive "first impression review" - not a complete one used to base a buy on, though. Imho.
Like all my Middle Eastern fragrances Khamrah Qawa will get its time in the dark. When I'll open it again in a month or 3 I'll expect a differently smelling perfume, somewhere along the line of my description. I'll return to this review and let you know if it's truly a less sweet, but spicier, warmer variant, or that Khamrah lovers should stick to number 1, and haters should leave both well enough alone ;).
- The end (for now) -
[You probably expected the word 'maceration' here, but as I no longer want to add to the mistaken belief consumers can actually let a fragrance macerate, I'll try to use the correct words from now on, which is either maturing or ageing. Maceration or to macerate is what happens during the production of a perfume. It's when they let the necessary amount of drops of essential oils, aroma chemicals and other ingredients sink into the base oil for as long as needed to get a strong effect. Think of making a soup or a broth where you use a bundle of herbs or bones and let them cook or sit for hours on end to get strong flavours. Thàt is maceration.
Say you're a perfumer and you've created a fragrance recipe for one 100ml bottle. You'll then first add all the right notes per pyramid part. Top, heart, base - every single one of these three parts macerates in its own bottle with a bit of base oil first, usually also being shaken daily and then put back into a dark cabinet. After the mixes are strong enough (ranging from 6 weeks to several months depending on notes) they all get poured into one bottle. Then the whole process starts anew for the necessary amount of weeks, until the perfumers alcohol gets poured in and we let that sit for a while as well.
Now, as we all know: time is money. As it so happens, the cheaper fragrances usually simply - that's the theory at least - get barely any maceration in that last bit of the journey, the final 2 steps. The demand for very popular fragrances is also quite high and in order to answer to that demand - Middle Eastern fragrance houses are basically niche houses and thus have a relatively small production line - maceration time gets shortened. As a result the perfume that arrives at your home isn't properly balanced yet, hasn't completely 'sunk in' the alcohol yet. Now, we can no longer macerate. But what we do is take a bit out, as a result leave oxygen IN and that creates its own kind of process: alcohol will dissipate and the oil of which the perfume was made gets a bigger 'presence'. It's how a fragrance can strengthen and mature when you "let it sit". Quite often the end result will be more balanced then as well. Don't ask me why, I'm not a chemist, nor a true perfumer. But now you know, in a nutshell, the how and why of maceration.
Also, I should make this into an article with sources and all that. Maybe later! ]
I finally opened my Qawa bottle a few days ago. I'm a big OG Khamrah fan. (I'm also very opposed to the idea Khamrah is a dupe for Angel's Share. It isn't. Wish people would stop saying that. I even think it was never meant to be - but for that you can read my review on the stuff.) My skin tends to pull the typically thought of as 'masculine' notes much more and thus a fragrance needs to be truly sweet to actually register as a bit or moderately sweet on my body. I think that's why Khamrah and I are such a match made in compliment-heaven. I don't smell like I've rolled in sugar, but I still smell edible enough to be interesting. Every time I wear it, I receive at least one compliment.
Due to my difficult skin chemistry I actually feared Qawa would be too coffee & spice forward on me. And after having bought and tried
Dahaab Saafi and Eternal Coffee by Paris Corner (both for sale) I now know that coffee forward fragrances are not for me. However, Qawa turned from a potential fear into a current disappointment. While I do register some differences, they're minimal: Khamrah Qawa, upon 1st spray, is simply too much like its predecessor for me.
In Khamrah OG I get a cinnamon rich, tuberose turned coconut cream on luscious praline induced vanilla with a brandewyne-like boozy warmth in the opening that softens in the heart and completely disappears in the drydown. Depending on the climate I sometimes get a bit of that much discussed apple pie in the opening, but that happens so rarely it can be ignored.
Qawa? Almost identical in the first few seconds, but for a soft ginger note. When longer on my hand I notice a few more differences. The influence of the tuberose turned coconut becomes almost absent, and the same cinnamon is not so apparent in the drydown either. There is a booziness that seems more ginger infused instead of fruit based, but at the moment it's a barely-there thing. I know there must be extra spices in there because something prickles in my nose when I go close to my hand, but Qawa isn't giving up its secrets yet.
The sweetness is pretty much the same thick praline vanilla at first, but Qawa does lose about 25%. In the late drydown the vanilla takes a big step back in the flanker, resting more on that as of yet unidentifiable accord, whereas OG Khamrah remains being cinnamon-vanilla 'heavy'. Once matured, I think here lies the actual difference between the OG and Qawa: a strong ginger (+ other spices?) a lighter cinnamon, maybe a hint of coffee and certainly a much 'thinner', less sweet vanilla with a different type boozy opening under the influence of those spices. But we'll see if I'm right soon enough.
While the current minimal differences - I don't think they'll be picked up by most - are disappointing, I can't say anything bad about the performance. For a first spray the lasting power is bizarre. Bizarrely good. The OG lasts between 10-12hrs on my perfume eating skin in ideal circumstances, with its intensity diminishing after a few hours. Qawa might be beastmode. I could still smell this on my hand (1 single spray!) after 16 hours, and that one spray was pretty clear for a full workday as well. I can't wait to see what happens after this juice matures.
To be fair to baby Qawa when it comes to my "Meh" opinion: the bottle was just opened and it's a Lattafa - THE brand that has invented "consumer-maceration", or maturing I should say. This can't be anything other than an extensive "first impression review" - not a complete one used to base a buy on, though. Imho.
Like all my Middle Eastern fragrances Khamrah Qawa will get its time in the dark. When I'll open it again in a month or 3 I'll expect a differently smelling perfume, somewhere along the line of my description. I'll return to this review and let you know if it's truly a less sweet, but spicier, warmer variant, or that Khamrah lovers should stick to number 1, and haters should leave both well enough alone ;).
- The end (for now) -
[
Say you're a perfumer and you've created a fragrance recipe for one 100ml bottle. You'll then first add all the right notes per pyramid part. Top, heart, base - every single one of these three parts macerates in its own bottle with a bit of base oil first, usually also being shaken daily and then put back into a dark cabinet. After the mixes are strong enough (ranging from 6 weeks to several months depending on notes) they all get poured into one bottle. Then the whole process starts anew for the necessary amount of weeks, until the perfumers alcohol gets poured in and we let that sit for a while as well.
Now, as we all know: time is money. As it so happens, the cheaper fragrances usually simply - that's the theory at least - get barely any maceration in that last bit of the journey, the final 2 steps. The demand for very popular fragrances is also quite high and in order to answer to that demand - Middle Eastern fragrance houses are basically niche houses and thus have a relatively small production line - maceration time gets shortened. As a result the perfume that arrives at your home isn't properly balanced yet, hasn't completely 'sunk in' the alcohol yet. Now, we can no longer macerate. But what we do is take a bit out, as a result leave oxygen IN and that creates its own kind of process: alcohol will dissipate and the oil of which the perfume was made gets a bigger 'presence'. It's how a fragrance can strengthen and mature when you "let it sit". Quite often the end result will be more balanced then as well. Don't ask me why, I'm not a chemist, nor a true perfumer. But now you know, in a nutshell, the how and why of maceration.
Also, I should make this into an article with sources and all that. Maybe later! ]
Pretty bottle, terrible scent
My experiences with fragrances from the UAE is that one can rarely judge them upon arrival. Often enough not even after a few days or even weeks. It's 'maturing' that needs to be done (not maceration; that's what happens during production), as I suspect that the majority of fragrance houses producing affordable perfumes barely take the time for any maceration, apart from the utmost necessities.
So, when a fragrance, in this case a perfume oil, arrives on my doorstep smelling - quite frankly - disgusting (or in the case of others, maybe like 'nothing', like 'one note' or alcohol) I won't push it towards my declutter shelf immediately. I let it (them) sit. For weeks or months.
Well, let me tell you; Narjis has gotten 1.5 years and still smells (almost) as rank as the day she arrived, begging for a spot of honour in my collection. With a fancy bottle like that I was eager to give it to Al Haramain's oily concoction, but despite all the possible maturing a fragrance could get Narjis didn't prove herself to be front row worthy. Worse, she isn't worthy of any row. Unless you count that declutter shelf.
Quite frankly, I almost snorted my tea through my nose when I saw the general rating here on Parfumo. Did I get a bad batch, or what?
It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly what I smell when encountering Narjis because it's so screechy. But I'll do my best.
Initially Narjis consisted of predominantly one very, almost extremely sharp, soapy scent. But not a soap you shower with. No, soap or a cleansing agent that's chemical
- industrial. We've just reached a factory that's had its machines cleaned out by the strongest, most astringent detergent. Far, far away, you can recognise that its producer wanted "something floral", but not wanting to pay too much they made do with the leftover, partially stomped and walked on, petals that scoured the floors of a real essential oil factory.
This floral-trash cleanser is the base, the core of the perfume oil, but shortly after the first very sharp blast there is a hint of urine. Equally ammonia- sharp. That was it. That was all - my initial meeting and follow ups in the months after with Narjis.
Now, one and a half years later, we're ever so lucky to once again burn our hair nostrils with the sharpness of the cheap industrial soap. But guess what. The acacia no longer reeks like cat urine, but finally makes you think - however soft and minimally there - of honey. Not a rich honey, but those squirty tube ones from the supermarket. Sweet, that's for sure, but not strong enough to push through the base.
The longer on the skin, the more the honey dissipates until it vanishes altogether under the rise of the violet. Powdery, but unfortunately also a tad sour. Where the violet diminishes the sharpness of the detergent accord, it isn't necessarily improving the overall fragrance much.
If you manage to stick with Narjis until and past the dry down it does give way to a tad more floral- ness without too much of the sharp and sour notes of before. But it'll never reach "Oh that's nice" status. Not to my nose and brain, at least.
If I were to categorise it I'd throw it in with the more awful toiletsprays. The ones that almost make you want to smell the Nr2 your predecessor just flushed. Everything not to smell that godawful cheap "floral" concoction. That's Narjis to me. And you'll probably understand that I won't turn this into a reed diffuser or spray to freshen up my toilet.
I have better room and home fragrances.
Asc it is I'm now scrubbing my hand furiously to get rid of any evidence Narjis has touched my skin. Al Haramain chose a nice bottle, worthy of the points given, but they would have been better off by focusing on creating a decent perfume.
So, when a fragrance, in this case a perfume oil, arrives on my doorstep smelling - quite frankly - disgusting (or in the case of others, maybe like 'nothing', like 'one note' or alcohol) I won't push it towards my declutter shelf immediately. I let it (them) sit. For weeks or months.
Well, let me tell you; Narjis has gotten 1.5 years and still smells (almost) as rank as the day she arrived, begging for a spot of honour in my collection. With a fancy bottle like that I was eager to give it to Al Haramain's oily concoction, but despite all the possible maturing a fragrance could get Narjis didn't prove herself to be front row worthy. Worse, she isn't worthy of any row. Unless you count that declutter shelf.
Quite frankly, I almost snorted my tea through my nose when I saw the general rating here on Parfumo. Did I get a bad batch, or what?
It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly what I smell when encountering Narjis because it's so screechy. But I'll do my best.
Initially Narjis consisted of predominantly one very, almost extremely sharp, soapy scent. But not a soap you shower with. No, soap or a cleansing agent that's chemical
- industrial. We've just reached a factory that's had its machines cleaned out by the strongest, most astringent detergent. Far, far away, you can recognise that its producer wanted "something floral", but not wanting to pay too much they made do with the leftover, partially stomped and walked on, petals that scoured the floors of a real essential oil factory.
This floral-trash cleanser is the base, the core of the perfume oil, but shortly after the first very sharp blast there is a hint of urine. Equally ammonia- sharp. That was it. That was all - my initial meeting and follow ups in the months after with Narjis.
Now, one and a half years later, we're ever so lucky to once again burn our hair nostrils with the sharpness of the cheap industrial soap. But guess what. The acacia no longer reeks like cat urine, but finally makes you think - however soft and minimally there - of honey. Not a rich honey, but those squirty tube ones from the supermarket. Sweet, that's for sure, but not strong enough to push through the base.
The longer on the skin, the more the honey dissipates until it vanishes altogether under the rise of the violet. Powdery, but unfortunately also a tad sour. Where the violet diminishes the sharpness of the detergent accord, it isn't necessarily improving the overall fragrance much.
If you manage to stick with Narjis until and past the dry down it does give way to a tad more floral- ness without too much of the sharp and sour notes of before. But it'll never reach "Oh that's nice" status. Not to my nose and brain, at least.
If I were to categorise it I'd throw it in with the more awful toiletsprays. The ones that almost make you want to smell the Nr2 your predecessor just flushed. Everything not to smell that godawful cheap "floral" concoction. That's Narjis to me. And you'll probably understand that I won't turn this into a reed diffuser or spray to freshen up my toilet.
I have better room and home fragrances.
Asc it is I'm now scrubbing my hand furiously to get rid of any evidence Narjis has touched my skin. Al Haramain chose a nice bottle, worthy of the points given, but they would have been better off by focusing on creating a decent perfume.
1 Comment
The musk ruins the entire fragrance
Initio has a few fragrances whose pyramids make me salivate in anticipation, and Addictive Vibration was certainly one of them. It could've been a major like, or even love, had it not been for... yes: that awful, awful musk!!
My skin has a tendency to pick up base notes quickly, in this case making the musk a part of the fragrance from the very first second. While I get to enjoy the lovely honey note in this frag - and I'm a huge honey lover (though I hate the sugar water concoctions that sell as honey in supermarkets. I always buy mine in specialised places. More expensive, but worth it) - the flower portion, that could be a wonderfully sweet & elegant scent experience, is ruined from the get go. As a result, the entire perfume becomes one I'll definitely never get a full bottle of (thank god I got a tiny decant!)
The musk in here isn't just dusty, but root cellar damp earthy. Like cheap patchouli, but with a slightly old flower stem-accord. You know, just before that slimy mold sets in.
I've had bad experiences with musk before. Usually when the blend isn't balanced and/or with cheapies. I don't expect a brand like Initio to use subpar products (though, then again, with said cheapies often outperforming designer and niche fragrances nowadays, who can say), but it is how this musk comes across.
On the one hand, Addictive Vibration is delicious. The part I had expected to like, is indeed great. I had not, however, counted on 'flower stem rot in the root cellar' to take my joy away.
Alas, that's what happened and it isn't until the very, very last moments of AV on my skin, its dying moments if you will, that the disgusting musk dissipates and you get what Initio should've created: a wonderful, elegant honey-lathered blossom-duo, with a vanilla base. Sadly, by that time the fragrance is in nose-to-skin territory and ready to vaporise entirely. I think I barely got 10min out of it.
Please, Initio, dump that atrocious Musk and add a creamy sandalwood base, or a warm golden amber, maybe some coumarin, or even a cashmere infused vanilla. All they'll do is give the warm hug this fragrance deserves and should've had from the very start.
Yes, it has a decent lasting power and average projection, which on my dry skin means it is good to great on others, but who wants to smell like almost rotten flowers, and damp earth mixed with honey? (I thought I was alone in this, based on the hallelujah reviews, but 'luckily' found others on the red site. If musk can be a difficult note for you, I think this is a no- go. But in all cases>>>)
Definitely do NOT blind buy!
My skin has a tendency to pick up base notes quickly, in this case making the musk a part of the fragrance from the very first second. While I get to enjoy the lovely honey note in this frag - and I'm a huge honey lover (though I hate the sugar water concoctions that sell as honey in supermarkets. I always buy mine in specialised places. More expensive, but worth it) - the flower portion, that could be a wonderfully sweet & elegant scent experience, is ruined from the get go. As a result, the entire perfume becomes one I'll definitely never get a full bottle of (thank god I got a tiny decant!)
The musk in here isn't just dusty, but root cellar damp earthy. Like cheap patchouli, but with a slightly old flower stem-accord. You know, just before that slimy mold sets in.
I've had bad experiences with musk before. Usually when the blend isn't balanced and/or with cheapies. I don't expect a brand like Initio to use subpar products (though, then again, with said cheapies often outperforming designer and niche fragrances nowadays, who can say), but it is how this musk comes across.
On the one hand, Addictive Vibration is delicious. The part I had expected to like, is indeed great. I had not, however, counted on 'flower stem rot in the root cellar' to take my joy away.
Alas, that's what happened and it isn't until the very, very last moments of AV on my skin, its dying moments if you will, that the disgusting musk dissipates and you get what Initio should've created: a wonderful, elegant honey-lathered blossom-duo, with a vanilla base. Sadly, by that time the fragrance is in nose-to-skin territory and ready to vaporise entirely. I think I barely got 10min out of it.
Please, Initio, dump that atrocious Musk and add a creamy sandalwood base, or a warm golden amber, maybe some coumarin, or even a cashmere infused vanilla. All they'll do is give the warm hug this fragrance deserves and should've had from the very start.
Yes, it has a decent lasting power and average projection, which on my dry skin means it is good to great on others, but who wants to smell like almost rotten flowers, and damp earth mixed with honey? (I thought I was alone in this, based on the hallelujah reviews, but 'luckily' found others on the red site. If musk can be a difficult note for you, I think this is a no- go. But in all cases>>>)
Definitely do NOT blind buy!
3 Comments
Disappointing
The risk with hyped up fragrances is, that we often expect a lot from them and just as often jump on them sight unseen/unsmelled. After I got burnt a few times I cleaned out my YouTube subscriptions - I now follow a handful of very knowledgeable, trustworthy reviewers - and get samples/ decants whenever possible. That doesn't mean I don't, on occasion, get very excited about a perfume if it's shown a lot and seems interesting.
That's where Mohra comes in. I'd been wanting to try this in forever, but couldn't get a 2ml sample below €4 (I honestly think the prices for these tiny decants in plastic sprayers are often ridiculous for fragrances that are this cheap, but that's another discussion altogether). Finally I managed to acquire a small decant this week and I basically knew enough after one spray. However, good reviewing consists of wearing the fragrance as often and within as many variable circumstances as possible. So I did.
My opinion, sadly, stayed the same. Mohra can't suffer from a lack of maturation, as it's a decant (those are rarely fresh as a daisy), meaning that the very disappointing projection, sillage and longevity are part of its DNA.
It won't leave a scent trail and the projection is intimate, becoming a soft skin scent after an hour. Layering with an oil or very good lotion will amp all that up a tad, but never to suddenly reach average performance, let alone above.
Now, I actually know of quite a lot of people who don't care about projection and sillage if they love the scent, and who drop their longevity wish as well when fragrances are as cheap as Mohra. Thus, for those people I'll describe the actual scent.
I do have to give credit where credit is due: Lattafa's Penhaligon's Halfeti Cedar inspiration/twist is marvellously blended. It is smooth, and individual notes are difficult to pick out. Those of us with a trained nose will most likely notice a bit of saffron, lavender, pepper and cedarwood (on my skin), but all in all the juice is mostly giving the idea of one fully cooked scent.
That's, unfortunately, where my compliments end. Don't get me wrong, Mohra isn't awful, disgusting, screechy, too synthetic, juvenile, or the opposite. No, in all honestly, there's nothing wrong with the fragrance. But... there is nothing really right with it either. It doesn't do *anything* for me.
The often mentioned cola note is definitely there. Mohra opens with that strongly, softly supported by a hint of saffron and an even softer touch of black pepper - so soft thàt's gone in a jiffy as well. That's sort of nice ish, but not exactly making me eager to sniff my arm again.
When the cola accord becomes a little less obvious, the lavender is easier to pick out and the cedar surfaces more strongly. But when I say 'strongly', I merely mean I recognise the note and its appearance to the heart easily. In this fragrance nothing is strong. Heart and dry- down are pretty similar, but for the fact I lose my whiff of lavender for 99%. By that time I also need to put my nose to my skin to make sure Mohra is still there, so that's not saying much.
The Parfumo categories state spicy, smoky, woody and sweet. Pretty much the only one that comes out on my skin is 'sweet', via the cola note. Maybe a tiny, tiny bit of 'woody credit' can be given because I get some recognisable cedar. But spicy and smoky are truly the least noticeable adjectives I'll ever give this fragrance. Perhaps if the labdanum surfaces strongly on your skin, you'll be able to say so. That would most likely make Mohra a more interesting perfume as well. As I'm judging Mohra based off of my own human suit I can only conclude it isn't - interesting.
I thought perhaps I tested this in the wrong season. However based on the pie chart, the end of October is a perfect month to wear this often positively described Lattafa.
My conclusion is simple: my skin chemistry obviously doesn't let Mohra shine, if there is something to it for others. I expected a sweet-spicy-smoky fragrance and got a lukewarm experience that I'll likely be able to repeat by drinking a glass of cola while sniffing my spice cabinet from afar. Not for me. But, who knows... maybe for you. As long as you don't mind an underwhelming performance, that is. (Pssst, don't blind buy).
That's where Mohra comes in. I'd been wanting to try this in forever, but couldn't get a 2ml sample below €4 (I honestly think the prices for these tiny decants in plastic sprayers are often ridiculous for fragrances that are this cheap, but that's another discussion altogether). Finally I managed to acquire a small decant this week and I basically knew enough after one spray. However, good reviewing consists of wearing the fragrance as often and within as many variable circumstances as possible. So I did.
My opinion, sadly, stayed the same. Mohra can't suffer from a lack of maturation, as it's a decant (those are rarely fresh as a daisy), meaning that the very disappointing projection, sillage and longevity are part of its DNA.
It won't leave a scent trail and the projection is intimate, becoming a soft skin scent after an hour. Layering with an oil or very good lotion will amp all that up a tad, but never to suddenly reach average performance, let alone above.
Now, I actually know of quite a lot of people who don't care about projection and sillage if they love the scent, and who drop their longevity wish as well when fragrances are as cheap as Mohra. Thus, for those people I'll describe the actual scent.
I do have to give credit where credit is due: Lattafa's Penhaligon's Halfeti Cedar inspiration/twist is marvellously blended. It is smooth, and individual notes are difficult to pick out. Those of us with a trained nose will most likely notice a bit of saffron, lavender, pepper and cedarwood (on my skin), but all in all the juice is mostly giving the idea of one fully cooked scent.
That's, unfortunately, where my compliments end. Don't get me wrong, Mohra isn't awful, disgusting, screechy, too synthetic, juvenile, or the opposite. No, in all honestly, there's nothing wrong with the fragrance. But... there is nothing really right with it either. It doesn't do *anything* for me.
The often mentioned cola note is definitely there. Mohra opens with that strongly, softly supported by a hint of saffron and an even softer touch of black pepper - so soft thàt's gone in a jiffy as well. That's sort of nice ish, but not exactly making me eager to sniff my arm again.
When the cola accord becomes a little less obvious, the lavender is easier to pick out and the cedar surfaces more strongly. But when I say 'strongly', I merely mean I recognise the note and its appearance to the heart easily. In this fragrance nothing is strong. Heart and dry- down are pretty similar, but for the fact I lose my whiff of lavender for 99%. By that time I also need to put my nose to my skin to make sure Mohra is still there, so that's not saying much.
The Parfumo categories state spicy, smoky, woody and sweet. Pretty much the only one that comes out on my skin is 'sweet', via the cola note. Maybe a tiny, tiny bit of 'woody credit' can be given because I get some recognisable cedar. But spicy and smoky are truly the least noticeable adjectives I'll ever give this fragrance. Perhaps if the labdanum surfaces strongly on your skin, you'll be able to say so. That would most likely make Mohra a more interesting perfume as well. As I'm judging Mohra based off of my own human suit I can only conclude it isn't - interesting.
I thought perhaps I tested this in the wrong season. However based on the pie chart, the end of October is a perfect month to wear this often positively described Lattafa.
My conclusion is simple: my skin chemistry obviously doesn't let Mohra shine, if there is something to it for others. I expected a sweet-spicy-smoky fragrance and got a lukewarm experience that I'll likely be able to repeat by drinking a glass of cola while sniffing my spice cabinet from afar. Not for me. But, who knows... maybe for you. As long as you don't mind an underwhelming performance, that is. (Pssst, don't blind buy).
Vanilla-Musk that pretends to be a Hypnotic Poison dupe
When I bought this perfume I had no idea it was supposed to be a dupe for Hypnotic Poison - it was recommended in a circle of Arabic perfume users as a layering scent. Because it was so inexpensive (I paid just under 7 euro) I added it to my cart when I was buying sth off Amazon anyway. My 1st experience was terrible: "blegh !" A huge alcohol cloud, and barely any perfume scent apart from some screechy faux vanilla and a bit of nasty jasmine. I'm used to more of an alcohol blast in cheapies, either because maceration barely happened or the alcohol used is of bad quality. But this made me cough up a long!
My experiences with online orders, particularly those coming from abroad (as products in my own country are generally much more expensive than other EU members I tend to order the majority of my perfume across the border), and especially if fragrances are under €40/100ml, have taught me that I should let a new arrival have some "maceration & chill" time, as I've dubbed it now ;). So I sprayed a few more times to empty the atomiser and left the -by the way super handy travelsize - bottle alone for 3 weeks. After that, the alcohol in the opening was still very strong, but less so. And with each extra week it became less.
While the alcohol opening never fully disappeared, it was now only 'active' in the first 10 seconds. After that a boozy, bitter almond scent appeared (from the tonka I assume). The almond was shortly accompanied by a creamy vanilla and a soft jasmine-tuberose mix. And that's when I thought: what the hey hey...I KNOW this fragrance! Hypnotic Poison (edt)!
Unfortunately the heart is flighty and loses the strength of the almond- vanilla-floral accord quickly in the pushy musk of the base. On my skin it therefore loses the bulk of its dupe quality.
The dry down ends in a strong musk that has very soft accents of sandalwood and a barely recognisable white flower, or what I considered bitter almonds. I can see the resemblance with Dior’s popular baby, but mostly in the heart. The dry down is too musky - at least on my skin. That's a shame because for a moment there it came very close to the inspiration.
As a fan of Hypnotic Poison, but with a small wallet, I've tested several dupes already (Jeanne Arthes Guipure and Silk, Pascal Morabito Lady In Red, La Rive's Sweet Hope, Zara Femme, or Poison Noir by an Arab brand). Like this Spirit none of them reach 100% scent wise, but for their prices they're acceptable. If you are lucky enough to have a skin chemistry that holds on to the fragrance that blossoms in the heart of the pyramid development in the dry down as well, Cashmere is one of the better duplicates.
Alas, there's good reason why I won't be repurchasing Cashmere in the future. First off, projection, sillage and longevity are rather disappointing. To say they're all limited is an understatement. I always spray the fragrance in question on my hand when I'm reviewing, in case I need a reminder. In the time I've written this text, the perfume has walked all its pyramid steps, gotten to the dry down and already lost pretty much its entire projection- what little is there to begin with. It's now a very soft skin- scent, only perceivable when nose hits skin. You'll then get mostly musk, some vanilla and a hint of almond.
I think this is why it was recommended as layering by certain fellow fragantophiles. It's a nice smell that'll quite likely strengthen a vanillic base or bitter almond note in another perfume. However, as a standalone it won't be strong enough imho. Now, I do have perfume eating skin, but this is bad performance. Even for me. If I douse myself in the stuff - at least 30 sprays - I expect to get an hour from a bodymist. As this is sold as an eau de parfum I would expect three hours for this price. And with 30 sprays! But...I get maybe half an hour of intimate projection and then approximately 15-20min of barely there skin scent. Then: poof!
(EDIT OCTOBER 2023). What's more: the quality also lacks in another department. Shelf life. Literal shelf life. We're usually promised around 3 years before we need to shuck our perfumes. We all know those with strong, heavy notes can sometimes last half a lifetime with good care, where citrusy and other lighter fragrances might start to change, losing topnotes, becoming less strong. And based on my experiences most freshies need to say goodbye around 3yrs after opening, save for a few exceptions (DKNY's apples! The OG's about 14yrs old and still exactly the same!).
I keep all my perfumes in their own boxes, in a dark closet that's rarely opened during their "off seasons", and otherwise on a shelf in my bedroom where the sun never hits if my room would be bathed in light (But as my very thick UV blocking curtains are always closed - creepy voyueristic neighbour across the street - they're basically in a dark room too then.) That's why my freshies have not gone off, nor changed since I got them (pre 2020, or 2020).
That's not the case for the in 2022 bought Cashmere. It turned pinkish - strangely enough the picture shows it pink, but it arrived light yellow - and now smells like vinegar with a hint of almond and tuberose. Barf. White Vanilla, another Spirit I got early '23, still mostly smells like its meant to be, but *extremely* light... and the off-smell is slowly creeping in. Seeing as they're about 11 and 9 months old respectively and were treated well, that's just not okay.
If you're on a tight budget, are looking for A. a dupe-ish of Hypnotic Poison or a nice vanilla smell with white floral/ musk/ almond accents, and B. don't have a large collection: definitely go for it. It's not a huge loss of money and if you don't have 50 or 100, or even more fragrances competing for attention, you might likely finish this 30ml before its untimely demise. Besides, even the majority of the best of perfumes perform atrocious on my skin, so it could just do better on yours. Don't expect miracles, though.
As for me: I'm done with this brand. For the scent I would've repurchased Spirit of White Vanilla - this Hypnotic Poison wannabe just isn't it, for me - but the quality and early trashcan journey makes me think even €7 is €7 too much.
My experiences with online orders, particularly those coming from abroad (as products in my own country are generally much more expensive than other EU members I tend to order the majority of my perfume across the border), and especially if fragrances are under €40/100ml, have taught me that I should let a new arrival have some "maceration & chill" time, as I've dubbed it now ;). So I sprayed a few more times to empty the atomiser and left the -by the way super handy travelsize - bottle alone for 3 weeks. After that, the alcohol in the opening was still very strong, but less so. And with each extra week it became less.
While the alcohol opening never fully disappeared, it was now only 'active' in the first 10 seconds. After that a boozy, bitter almond scent appeared (from the tonka I assume). The almond was shortly accompanied by a creamy vanilla and a soft jasmine-tuberose mix. And that's when I thought: what the hey hey...I KNOW this fragrance! Hypnotic Poison (edt)!
Unfortunately the heart is flighty and loses the strength of the almond- vanilla-floral accord quickly in the pushy musk of the base. On my skin it therefore loses the bulk of its dupe quality.
The dry down ends in a strong musk that has very soft accents of sandalwood and a barely recognisable white flower, or what I considered bitter almonds. I can see the resemblance with Dior’s popular baby, but mostly in the heart. The dry down is too musky - at least on my skin. That's a shame because for a moment there it came very close to the inspiration.
As a fan of Hypnotic Poison, but with a small wallet, I've tested several dupes already (Jeanne Arthes Guipure and Silk, Pascal Morabito Lady In Red, La Rive's Sweet Hope, Zara Femme, or Poison Noir by an Arab brand). Like this Spirit none of them reach 100% scent wise, but for their prices they're acceptable. If you are lucky enough to have a skin chemistry that holds on to the fragrance that blossoms in the heart of the pyramid development in the dry down as well, Cashmere is one of the better duplicates.
Alas, there's good reason why I won't be repurchasing Cashmere in the future. First off, projection, sillage and longevity are rather disappointing. To say they're all limited is an understatement. I always spray the fragrance in question on my hand when I'm reviewing, in case I need a reminder. In the time I've written this text, the perfume has walked all its pyramid steps, gotten to the dry down and already lost pretty much its entire projection- what little is there to begin with. It's now a very soft skin- scent, only perceivable when nose hits skin. You'll then get mostly musk, some vanilla and a hint of almond.
I think this is why it was recommended as layering by certain fellow fragantophiles. It's a nice smell that'll quite likely strengthen a vanillic base or bitter almond note in another perfume. However, as a standalone it won't be strong enough imho. Now, I do have perfume eating skin, but this is bad performance. Even for me. If I douse myself in the stuff - at least 30 sprays - I expect to get an hour from a bodymist. As this is sold as an eau de parfum I would expect three hours for this price. And with 30 sprays! But...I get maybe half an hour of intimate projection and then approximately 15-20min of barely there skin scent. Then: poof!
(EDIT OCTOBER 2023). What's more: the quality also lacks in another department. Shelf life. Literal shelf life. We're usually promised around 3 years before we need to shuck our perfumes. We all know those with strong, heavy notes can sometimes last half a lifetime with good care, where citrusy and other lighter fragrances might start to change, losing topnotes, becoming less strong. And based on my experiences most freshies need to say goodbye around 3yrs after opening, save for a few exceptions (DKNY's apples! The OG's about 14yrs old and still exactly the same!).
I keep all my perfumes in their own boxes, in a dark closet that's rarely opened during their "off seasons", and otherwise on a shelf in my bedroom where the sun never hits if my room would be bathed in light (But as my very thick UV blocking curtains are always closed - creepy voyueristic neighbour across the street - they're basically in a dark room too then.) That's why my freshies have not gone off, nor changed since I got them (pre 2020, or 2020).
That's not the case for the in 2022 bought Cashmere. It turned pinkish - strangely enough the picture shows it pink, but it arrived light yellow - and now smells like vinegar with a hint of almond and tuberose. Barf. White Vanilla, another Spirit I got early '23, still mostly smells like its meant to be, but *extremely* light... and the off-smell is slowly creeping in. Seeing as they're about 11 and 9 months old respectively and were treated well, that's just not okay.
If you're on a tight budget, are looking for A. a dupe-ish of Hypnotic Poison or a nice vanilla smell with white floral/ musk/ almond accents, and B. don't have a large collection: definitely go for it. It's not a huge loss of money and if you don't have 50 or 100, or even more fragrances competing for attention, you might likely finish this 30ml before its untimely demise. Besides, even the majority of the best of perfumes perform atrocious on my skin, so it could just do better on yours. Don't expect miracles, though.
As for me: I'm done with this brand. For the scent I would've repurchased Spirit of White Vanilla - this Hypnotic Poison wannabe just isn't it, for me - but the quality and early trashcan journey makes me think even €7 is €7 too much.
