010 (Hyde & Alchemy)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
No. 010 is a pink-smelling scent with a cheerful cherry blossom note pitched halfway between fruit and flower. The opening is not half bad, with its bright vintage make-up vibe. Unfortunately, a starched white musk soon arrives to bulldoze over the more delicate elements, sanding down the edges until all you smell is a yawning expanse of blandness.
At certain points, No. 010 reminds me of the scent of those delicate scalloped soaps in the restrooms of upscale Japanese restaurants. This, it turns out, is the high point, because what follows is a piercingly sweet, watermelony musk that dredges up the memory of Calone-drenched aquatics of the nineties.
015 (Hyde & Alchemy)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Looking at the notes, you would be forgiven for thinking that this is an Arabian saffron-rose affair as exotic as the Muezzin’s call to prayer. Think again. No. 015 is, in fact, a rather old-fashioned floral musk. It smells like Fructis Garnier shampoo at first, and then segues into pure pink soap. The drydown is the gentle, but barely-there scent of rosewater pastilles.
Ajeeb Musk Blend (Abdul Samad al Qurashi)
Ajeeb Musk Blend is an antiseptic yet sullen patchouli-musk-amber blend that wouldn’t go amiss among hippies at a Samhain festival or a Grateful Dead concert. More of a San Francisco ‘summer of love’ vibe than an Eastern one. The patchouli featured here is green, oily, and heavy duty in the way of health food store oils, complete with the lingering whiff of burlap and quinoa. It is a raw, organic kind of smell whose edges have not been sanded down in any way, or softened with amber – the minty, camphoraceous sting of un-aged patchouli oil from India rather than a pleasing Western interpretation.
Almost immediately, the patchouli is joined by an aggressively soapy musk. Over the next three hours, the wearer is held hostage to an unpleasant power struggle between the sour patchouli and the ‘clean’ musk, the combination of which runs perilously close to bathroom disinfectant. Together, the greenish patchouli and the bland musk conjure up the ghostly image of neroli, underlining the soapy, antiseptic impression of the other notes.
The saving grace of the scent is a golden amber accord, thick and toffee-ish, that mercifully appears in the base to atone for everything that’s gone on before. This part is delicious, sweet-n-salty in an ambergris kind of way. Since Ajeeb will last past hot showers and furious scrubbings with steel wire, it means that the blend is pleasant for about two-thirds of its life on one’s skin. The opening segment is a trial, though, and even that remaining one third of wear time seems excruciatingly long when it swaggers past the four hour mark. In brief, Ajeeb should appeal to anyone who has ever experimented with headshop oils, amber cubes, and musk lollies in their youth, and is now unaccountably nostalgic.
Al Dewan (Majid Muzaffar Iterji)
An antiseptic oud note rises to meet the nose first, cleansing the palate for the urinous musk that follows closely behind. Flashes of a hot pink rose and amber lift the dark musk here and there, but overall, this is a straight-up masculine affair of oud and musk. Al Dewan is not terribly refined or interesting in and of itself, but it performs the same basic pheromone-enhancing function as Pepe Le Pew rolling in his own skunky secretions before trying to seduce the neighbor’s cat. Therefore, it might make for a decent pulling scent.
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Company description: Red Egyptian Musk, Bergamot, Lime, Lotus, Amber, Blue Nile, Dark Rose, Dark Vanilla
Alexandria is a big, bosomy musk with plenty of spice and amber to fill out its curves. Along the edges, there is something fresh and watery – a combination of the lotus and ‘Blue Nile’ accords – that serves to keep the scent from staggering under its own weight. In the drydown, there seems to be a big dose of pleasantly musty vetiver and earthy patchouli (although unlisted), all backlit with the reddish, golden glow of that ambery musk. Alexandria is mercifully unsweet, and although a little unrefined and big-boned, it at least fulfils something of the Egyptian exoticism promised in the brand’s lore.
Al Hajar Al’Aswad Royal (Abdul Samad al Qurashi)
After the machoistic swagger of Ajeeb, Al Hajar Al’Aswad Royal is a fruity-floral musk clearly intended for the wimmen folk. This is a brash floral over a resinous base of sandalwood and musk, but mostly musk. The florals here explode in an almost dizzying show of force – a boatload of purple, fruity jasmine petals clambering all over neroli, bergamot, and later, the unctuous sweetness of orange blossom. The initial onslaught of fruity flowers is intense, to say the least, but it teeters charmingly the edge of syrupiness without ever falling in. When a brisk white musk eventually steps in to dial back the volume, it settles to an acceptable level of sweetness.
There is a creamy woodiness that rises from the base to further cushion the fruity floral accords, but it is very subtle and, as with most of the ASAQ mukhallats, you’ll just have to take the company’s word that it is sandalwood. In general, it is fair to say that the sandalwood element in most ASAQ mukhallats seems to be there more for texture and mouthfeel than for aroma. For the aroma of real Indian sandalwood, it is best to look elsewhere.
At one stage, the scent begins to radiate a subtle, creamsicle-like duet of orange blossom and milky white musk that comes very close to the starched marshmallow loveliness of By Killian’s Love (Don’t Be Shy). If money is no object, and smelling like a pretty, floral marshmallow is your aim, then Al Hajar Al’Aswad Royal should fit the bill. It is a scent fit for a modern princess who wants to leave a radiant trail of flowers, white musk, and creamy wood as she cuts a swathe through her minions.
Al Hajjar Al’Aswad (Abdul Samad al Qurashi)
Al Hajjar Al’Aswad is the budget version of the Al Hajar Al’Aswad Royal described above (note the slightly different spelling of the word ‘Hajar’), fetching approximately $100 per tola compared to $800 for the Royal version. That’s still not enormously cheap, I know, but if you’re patient, you can score good deals in eBay auctions. Even at $100 a tola, this attar represents good value for money in that the materials are decent (the rose in particular), and it is very long-lasting.
There’s a caveat, though. You must love soapy laundry musks in order to get along with it. Al Hajjar Al’Aswad revolves around a classic combo of rose and jasmine, given an exotic flourish by a generous dose of bitter, dusty saffron. There is a hint of fruit too, possibly from the grapey jasmine that ASAQ seems to favor. This rich but medicinal fruity-floral accord is blurred around the edges with a hugely soapy musk and, in the far drydown, sandalwood. It is a solid, if unexciting performance. It is also unequivocally feminine.
I detect no oud, only the rich, medicinal sourness of saffron, a material that often stands in for the exotic austerity of oud in attars positioned at the lower end of the scale. Although clean and laundry-like, the musk thankfully does not have the overly scratchy feel of some modern industrial musks. Compared to the haute couture version above, Al Hajjar Al’Aswad feels like settling for the farmhand when what you really want is the prince. But still, if you like rich, soapy musks mixed with bright fruits and flowers, you could do a lot worse.
Al Ghaliyah (Al Shareef Oudh)
Al Ghaliyah is a type of mukhallat with a long and noble history in Arabian perfumery. It was considered an art form to blend an exquisitely balanced Al Ghaliyah, one that the Abbāsid caliphs excelled in. Those who were able to offer the most beautiful Al Ghaliyah mukhallats to the Emir were given status and money and regarded as royal perfumers with a royal seal of approval. Al Ghaliyah mukhallats typically featured some of the costliest substances known to man, such as oud, ambergris, and musk.
Most modern Al Ghaliyah mukhallats are poorly made and contain synthetics to replace the costlier ingredients. But the preserve of artisans is to take an ancient form of perfumery and restore it to its former position of glory by making it with care and the best materials. Therefore, if you’re curious about the Al Ghaliyah model, seek out examples from artisans such as Al Shareef Oudh, Kyarazen, or Rising Phoenix Perfumery.
The Al Ghaliyah by Al Shareef Oudh smells very different to the other examples of Al Ghaliyah I have smelled, which have been either rosy and fruity (the Kyarazen) or smoky jasmine, rose, and oud (the Rising Phoenix). It soon becomes obvious that Al Shareef Oudh has spent much time – six years to be precise – studying the ancient recipe for Al Ghaliyah and collecting the exact raw materials from around the world to make it. The result is probably the most historically authentic example of the genre, because it focuses almost exclusively on ambergris, deer musk, and (possibly) oud.
Al Ghaliyah seems to headline with a very barnyardy oud, but there is no oud listed here. Instead, this is a phenomenally dirty, furry musk that smells like fabric left to fester in a dusty cupboard for a few decades. The aroma that hits the nose first is of that Afghan rug being taken out and shaken – thickly sour, with hints of mold, dust, animal hair, animal fat, and the rich pong of wood rot.
It is the smell of fermenting materials – leather, wool, cloth – that fools the nose into thinking it is smelling oud. The essential character of pure oud is a core of resinous woodiness that is present in all oils, but it can also be defined as having a uniquely fermented aroma, which comes from soaking the wood chips in water prior to distillation. The fermentation note in oud can resemble freshly tanned leather, fermenting fruit or vegetables, or even vapors from fermenting grain or wood alcohol. It is an ancient, brooding smell with a whisper of prehistoric menace attached to it, making you close your eyes and imagine what the inside of Genghis Khan’s yurt must have smelled like. (Answer: This. It smelled like this.)
The wave of oudy fermentation dies back and the nose becomes gradually more aware that this is deer musk. It is unmistakably so, in fact – full of tarry smoke and spice, furry, pungent, with a rounded belly of a texture that no other material can create. It is the scent of wet cows sheltering together in a cave. Later, this accord sweetens, another characteristic of real musk. But the texture remains tarry-sappy rather powdery.
There is a salty undertone to the musk, but although I recognize this as the ambergris element, it registers more as a sensation at the edges of my smell receptors than as a strong aroma in and of itself. The ambergris comes across as less of a crackle of radiance and more as a naturally-occurring facet of the oud or musk. In fact, what this reminds me of is Chinese oud oil, which manifests its animal character through specific nuances that resemble real ambergris and deer musk. I appreciate the furry roundness of Chinese oud oils, and thus I also like Al Ghaliyah. This mukhallat is highly recommended for guys and gals who take their animalics with an authentic growl, as opposed to blunted or babied with sweeter, softer notes.
Al Medina Al Mounawara (Abdul Samad al Qurashi)
Classified as a floral woody musk, Al Medina Al Mounawara is a good entry point into the world of Arabian concentrated perfume oils and attars, especially for people who are unsure about where to start or who want to avoid the darker, more challenging fragrances of the genre. It is a very pretty, gentle fragrance, reminiscent of clean bare skin after a hot shower. I put this on at seven a.m. one morning, and seven hours on, it was still there, radiating in the air around me in its own subtle but persistent cloud of loveliness.
The structure of this scent is simple, but evident care has been taken to ensure that all elements here – the musk, the florals, the amber, and the woods – are polished to a perfect roundness and smoothness. There’s a touch of amber for sweetness, but thankfully, it is not overplayed.
A smiley dollop of pink rose imbues the mixture of white musk, blond woods, and amber with a soft blush. There is a charming innocence to this blend that makes me think of a young lady receiving this as a gift from a father or brother. I think this would appeal to a large segment of the American market, particularly women who favor fragrances emphasizing shower-fresh skin, cleanliness, and warmth over carnality. People who love fragrances by Clean or Philosophy will find this one comforting.
Al Molouk Musk (Rising Phoenix Perfumery)
Al Molouk Musk is a variation on the regular Al Molouk template created by Rising Phoenix Perfumery for its Al Molouk series. In contrast to the other Al Molouk variants, this one possesses a strongly Indian character. Al Molouk Musk differs from the other Al Molouk versions by way of addition of – you guessed it – musk.
The musk component reminds me powerfully of the type of musk in ASAQ’s Ajeeb, which is to say a pungent vegetal musk with a hyper-clean, almost antiseptic breeze blowing through it, and sluiced thoroughly with astringent, peppery green aromatics. If life is all about the sweet and the sour, as Ed Sheeran says, then Al Molouk Musk stands firmly in the sour section.
In fact, the heart of this version of Al Molouk features the same hina musk attar that is used in Musk Rose Attar, a pungent shamama made from distilling over a hundred different herbs, woods, spices, and aromatics into sandalwood oil. Although the hina musk used in both is the same, it smells completely different in Al Molouk Musk, proving that context within a perfume is crucial to the final outcome. Whereas the hina musk attar renders Musk Rose authentically musky and skin-like in its drydown, here the hina sits more front and center, accentuating the attar’s naturally green, soapy, and bitter-astringent facets. It runs cool, rather than warm.
Apart from the hina musk dominating the front end of this attar, Al Molouk Musk differs from its counterparts by turning the dimmer switch down on the sweeter elements of the original, namely the rose and amber. The rose does start to come through more towards the far drydown, but even when it does, it is dry, not sweet or full-bodied. The fresh, soapy greenness of the hina musk is very charming, reminiscent as it is of the smell on one’s hands after washing with Chandrika soap, the little pea-colored soap from India that strips grime, dirt, moisture, and even skin cells from one’s hands. In other words, kind of harsh at first, but pleasantly fresh thereafter.
Its core of soap and bitter herbs might make this a better choice for men than for women, but, as ever, there’s nothing to say a woman couldn’t get away with it if she so desired. Al Molouk would particularly suit the tastes of those who already like the heavy-duty antiseptic musk of Ajeeb or any of the greener, soapier Firdaus attars.
Baba Yaga (Sixteen92)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Company description: Fiery dragon’s blood incense, sweet woodsmoke, dried herbs, dripping candle wax, forest dirt
At first, Baba Yaga is a confusing mish-mash of aftershave, dirt, and bubblegum. But when the dust settles, it becomes clear that Baba Yaga is actually a relative of Sixteen92’s own Salem, simply switching out the smoky church incense for a sweet headshop musk to buffer the central accord of autumn leaves. This switcheroo shifts the scene from Salem’s old stone church to a cozy New Age shop, where its owner has decided to light a cone or two and throw some dried sage onto the burner.
The bitter-spicy ‘aftershave’ taste left by the dirt and the herbs is effectively countered by the lurid Juicy Fruit red musk emanating from the dragon’s blood. This is pure eau de New Age shop, but with a slightly unexpected, and therefore sexy, masculine edge. The drydown is intensely powdery, so heads up if that is not your thing.
Bien Loins d’Ici (BPAL)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Company description: The Scarlet Woman, aglow with sensual indolence: red musk, benzoin, caramel accord, golden honey, and spiced Moroccan unguents.
Oof, get this perfume bien loins d’ici, s’il vous plait. Bien Loins d’Ici opens with a very strong, bubblegum-sweet red musk with an undertow of urinous honey. Unapologetically headshoppy, it reminds me of the colorful ethnic shops I loved as a teenager, featuring a miasma of exotic smells from the piles of unlit incense sticks, musty second-hand clothes, mood stones, health food bars, sacks of bulgur and quinoa, and the wheaten aroma of burlap bags.
Although this sort of thing has the potential to be heavy, credit goes to BPAL for blowing some air up its skirts by way of some nice leafy notes, which smell to my nose smell like crushed flower stems, grass stalks, and dandelion leaves. The honey note loses its initial sharpness as time goes on, relaxing into a pretty floral honey accord draped over the deeper caramel amber in the base. Surprisingly, in the base, there is a sawdusty suede accord that might even be accused of being Tuscan Leather-lite.
Body Musk Blend (Abdul Samad al Qurashi)
This is one of the best and most luxurious white musks on the market. With a texture poised between oil and powder, Body Musk Blend slips right onto the skin without any resistance at all. Zero tackiness, zero stickiness. It smells like clean skin, cream soda, vanilla ice cream, and warm, folded cashmere blankets straight from the laundry basket.
Although stunning on its own, it will also layer beautifully under sharp rose oils and dank musks to lend a gentle muskiness that softens and modulates. It also makes for a great fixative, extending the life of other perfumes. For anybody who loves creamy, clean musk fragrances like Serge Lutens’ Clair de Musc, give this one a whirl – you may never look back. A drop in your nighttime bath is also a real treat, turning your bathroom into an upmarket spa.
Civet Musk Mukhallat (Agarscents Bazaar)
Civet Musk Mukhallat is a syrupy, indolic orange flower draped over dirty musks, an under-netting of saffron and rose notes lending its familiar attar-lite exoticism to the ensemble. A word of warning for those with delicate sensibilities – the musk pulls no punches, featuring the authentic pungency of pack animals steaming in a crowded shed. The sweet affability of the floral notes papers over the dirtiness somewhat, rendering the filth more presentable for public consumption. Like most Agarscents Bazaar mukhallats, Civet Musk Mukhallat is dense and animalic in the buttery retro-floriental style so beloved of the house.
I do not perceive the foul odor of real civet paste in Civet Musk Mukhallat, but there is lots of black ambergris. Black ambergris is the lowest grade of ambergris, because, yet uncured by the ocean, it is still just a softish lump of whale dung. Almost never used in perfumery except for Middle-Eastern attar perfumery (where it is very popular), it adds a brackish odor of mammalian effluent to a composition. Pleasant? Not intentionally.
The musk grows saltier and more oceanic, with an undercurrent of horse stalls, marine silt, and low tide harbor smells. Civet and ambergris are linked by a halitosis-type aroma, and it is this element that comes through here most emphatically. The marshier variant of ambergris used here gives the scent a breathy depth. But absent is the floral sharpness of real civet paste. The smoky, dry Indian amber that’s used in most Agarscents Bazaar blends features heavily in the drydown of Civet Musk Mukhallat too, lending a herbal, almost mossy greenness that atones for the sweetness of the florals. The drydown, which lasts forever thanks to the high proportion of natural musks used, smells like a dank bog in a dark and thickly wooded forest by the sea.
An intoxicating blend, Civet Musk Mukhallat is recommended to lovers of animalic notes in perfumery, as well as to fans of a certain retro style of spicy floral ambers – thickly civety, furry, and sharp – that has now sadly fallen out of fashion. If you like Scandal (Lanvin), Ubar (Amouage), or Joy (Patou), then head straight for this. Everyone else, steer clear!
Dangerous Oil (Possets)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Company description: Dangerous Oil is infused with the finest of rare things. 6 musks from blackest black up through a rare and gorgeous in itself purple/blue musk hybrid. A good jolt of labdenum [sic] and an edge of cognac. The heart note is an entire chypre made only for this project and used for no other. There is a fresh and almost gardenia-like part to this (but there is no gardenia in it), it is not a floral but a resinous blend but there is a mesmerizing beauty to it.
This smelled like greenish, dry woods on me at first, with an alluring hint of artemisia or rosemary. My interest was immediately piqued. Could the bitter herbs be the chypre part to which the company alludes? I wanted to see where this was going. But Dangerous Oil suddenly loses its nerve, swerving sideways into the musky vanilla base that seems to populate the Possets catalog from A to Z.
Once the blend hits that familiar stride, the blend sheds all the spiky greenness that initially made it noteworthy. The blurb cites six different types of musk, all of which are six variants on the same white synthetic musk material and not one of them terribly interesting.
Deer Musk (Abdul Samad al Qurashi)
Apparently, ASAQ have two batches of this floating around – an aged version, and a lighter version. The first sample I tested was very dark, sticky, and almost feral, whereas my current sample of Deer Musk (from another source) is lighter in color, more liquid, and a great deal milder than the first one.
Although purists might complain that it has been dumbed down beyond all recognition, I much prefer the lighter, reformulated version of Deer Musk. Whereas the original version was so brutally animalic that it was difficult to breathe, the reformulation has enough air and space in it to allow room for the other notes to come through. In the reformulation, which goes onto the skin far more easily, by the way, it is now possible to pick out some of the ambery and grassy notes from the gloomy musk of the musk.
However, make no bones about it – even with the reformulated version, the first two hours of Deer Musk are characterized by a heavy dose of feces and scatole. Compared to Muscs Khoublai Khan, which gives off a similarly ferocious fecal yowl for the first five minutes but then starts to pile on the roses and cream, Deer Musk feeds you the feces unadorned and for a much longer time. An hour or two, at the least. Just trying to be real with you here.
Since Muscs Khoublai Khan mixes its fecal musk so successfully with rose, perhaps the same applies to Deer Musk? If the stink is too intense and singular on its own, it is always a good idea to experiment a little to see if you can’t get it to behave. I have had quite a bit of success layering Deer Musk under soft, innocent roses like Amouage’s Rose TRO (Turkish Rose Absolute). Rose TRO adds a creamy, sweet rose accord that softens the blunt force of the musk, and the musk adds a dark, almost feral undertone to the rose that brings it into animalic rose chypre territory. The Deer Musk provides the double bass that this pretty rose had been crying out for.
I think that a tola of Deer Musk would be a useful addition to anyone’s oil . Not to wear as a standalone per se (unless you are a hardcore animalics enthusiast), but as a layering agent with which to add darkness, complexity, and yes, a creamy fecal warmth to more innocent floral perfumes. For that aspect alone, I can see the added value.
Egyptian Musk Golden Anbar (Agarscents Bazaar)
Like Musc Pur, Egyptian Musk Golden Anbar is a clean musk oil that mimics the scent of skin. Egyptian Musk Golden Anbar differs from Musc Pur by being slightly more complex and warmer in character, with the addition of a rosy amber note and possibly something earthy, like patchouli. It is a basic, slightly boring blend, but for days when you simply need to smell fresh and clean, either this or Musc Pur would do the trick.
Geisha Blanche (Aroma M)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Geisha Blanche opens on a bleachy note that recalls industrial cleaning agents and the plastic floral arrangements one sees in the vet’s office. It smells clean, yes, but unfortunately more in the manner of a squeaky plastic shower curtain than French triple-milled soap. Geisha Blanche is similar to the concept presented in Blanche by Byredo, only even more piercing.
Habibati (Abdul Karim Al Faransi/Maison Anthony Marmin)
Habibati is a pleasant, feminine-leaning mukhallat revolving around sweet vanilla fluffed up with iris and white musk. It opens on a rather unfortunate accord – a clump of clotted cream coated in the hard spackle of Ethyl Maltol, the molecule used in Angel and other gourmand perfumes to create a cotton candy or caramel note. However, the candy floss impression is brief enough not to leave any lasting trauma, and soon disperses to reveal the bone-pale dustiness of iris. This splices the heavy vanilla with splinters of dust and root, in effect kicking its arse and getting it to move a bit. A weightless white musk wraps around the vanilla and iris, giving them a pillow-soft texture. In the far reaches, there are glimpses of a sandalwood with the silky delicacy of peanut shells.
Very nice, overall, and quite close in theme, if not execution to Ormonde Jayne’s Vanille d’Iris. I recommend Habibati to women who are love clean, fluffy musks but either cannot stretch to the (much better quality) Ormonde Jayne or believe any of the Narciso Rodriguez ‘cube’ perfumes to be below them.
Hyraceum Attar 2013 (Rising Phoenix Perfumery)
Hyraceum is the calcified and petrified urine of the Cape Hyrax, a shy little animal that urinates on one rock and defecates on another, ensuring that the petrified urine deposits needed for perfumery are completely clean of animal scat. The hardened substance, also known as Africa Stone, is a cruelty-free ‘musky’ material that mimics the pelvic thrust of both civet and musk.
In the context of this attar, the hyraceum merges so completely with the smooth sandalwood that it is hard to identify where one begins and the other ends. The rich, oily sandalwood has a softening effect on the slightly urinous, damp, feral-cat stink of hyraceum, sanding down all its sharp points and lending it a bitter cocoa roundness that adds depth. In return, the creamy sandalwood is given an animalistic bite by the hyraceum.
I like Hyraceum Attar because although the structure is simple, it is so perfectly balanced between the two materials that the nose is never sure which one it is smelling at any given moment. This yin and yang creates a more complex picture than the bare bones list of ingredients would suggest. Indeed, this is rich, sultry, and creamy-animalic in all the right ways.
Hyrax Musk (Mellifluence)
Although based on some pretty animalic essences, such as hyraceum, Hindi oud, and Indian deer musk, Hyrax is not at all dirty or sour. Rather, it is a beautiful and rather wearable creation swimming in a liquid, sweet darkness that seems to be made up of musky chocolate, incense, soft black leather, and ebony.
About Me: A two-time Jasmine Award winner for excellence in perfume journalism, I write a blog (this one!) and have authored many guides, articles, and interviews for Basenotes. (My day-to-day work is in the scientific research for development world). Thanks to the generosity of friends and acquaintances in the perfume business, I have been privileged enough to smell the raw materials that go into perfumes and learn about the role they play in both Western and Eastern perfumery. Artisans have sent vials of the most precious materials on earth such as ambergris, deer musk, and oud. But I have also spent thousands of my own money, buying oud oils directly from artisans and tons of dodgy (and possibly illegal) stuff on eBay. In the reviews sections, I will always tell you where my sample came from and whether I paid for it or not.
Source of samples: I purchased samples from Mellifluence, Maison Anthony Marmin, Aroma M, BPAL, Majid Muzaffar Iterji, Agarscents Bazaar, NAVA, Sixteen92, Possets, and Hyde & Alchemy. The samples from Rising Phoenix Perfumery, Abdul Samad al Qurashi, and Al Shareef Oudh were sent to me free of charge either by the brand or a distributor.
Note on monetization: My blog is not monetized. But if you’d like to support my work or show appreciation for any of the content I put out, you can always buy me a coffee using the little buymeacoffee button. Thank you!
Cover Image: Custom-designed by Jim Morgan.