Hello fellow sandalwood freaks! Remember to read the introduction here and the sandalwood primer here.
2016 Mysore Special Reserve (Rising Phoenix Perfumery)
Type: essential oil
Opening with the milky peanut shell aroma characteristic of Mysore, complete with gluey, solvent-like topnotes, the 2016 Mysore Special Reserve quickly segues into a heart of aromatic sandalwood with zero sweetness or creaminess. Imagine a log of sandalwood split open with an axe, the air suddenly fizzing with camphor, mint, and red dust.
Later, there are hints of sweet milk and yoghurt, as well as green rose petals. Its general character is clean, aromatic, and tending more towards camphoraceous-minty than creamy-sweet. Sinewy, therefore, rather than voluptuous. 2016 Mysore Special Reserve also smells undeniably young. Its minty rawness will likely gain more depth and creaminess with careful aging. However, there is tenderness in its sedate, peanutty milkiness, which is what makes it a beautiful choice to wear right now. Subtle and fresh, 2016 Mysore Special Reserve is a great option for those who want the luxury of wearing a Mysore oil every day without the fuss or distraction of a more aged oil.
2017 Deep & Buttery Mysore (Rising Phoenix Perfumery)
Type: essential oil
This is a result of a very interesting experiment whereby JK DeLapp wondered if sandalwood could be treated or distilled to smell like an oud. He gave the sandalwood chips a good long soak in water before distilling, a method usually reserved for Hindi-style oud oil distillations. Disturbingly, the experiment works.
What started out life as a blameless sandalwood has been pressed and massaged into the shape of a particularly feral oud oil distilled from wood that has been soaked for over fourteen days. The fermented flavor is exactly that of Hindi, and indeed, this oil could easily be mistaken for one were it not for the fact that, behind the initial wave of funk, there is no hay or smoke, only the aromatic blondness of Mysore sandalwood.
Despite the name, this oil is not particularly creamy, deep, or buttery. Rather, it is all freshly-stripped bark and crushed pinecones. With an undercurrent of bile duct secretion.
Further on, the oil develops a leathery facet, like the cured leather of horse saddles in a tack room. Mingling with the piney, silvery freshness of the wood, the outcome is one of green leather with a camphoraceous undertone. But there is a lingering pungency that never lets you forget about that long, moldy soak.
A Mysore sandalwood that smells like a Hindi oud oil, huh. The phrase ‘who asked for this?’ comes to mind. This is definitely worth testing if you want to see what is possible when you experiment with different soaking times and distillation methods (not to mention different woods). However, if you are looking for the classic, buttery Mysore sandalwood profile, then look elsewhere. For my personal tastes, this is an interesting experiment but also a waste of perfectly good Mysore sandalwood.
2017 Royal Reserve Mysore (Rising Phoenix Perfumery)
Type: essential oil
The 2017 Royal Reserve Mysore begins in much the same vein as the 2016 version, with a gluey, peanut-shell delicacy that is all silvery topnotes and little else. But it soon develops a robust heart that diverges sharply from the 2016 version by way of a phenomenal myrrh note that smells like wet, loamy earth, freshly-sliced mushrooms, and resin. The age-old loveliness of the typical Mysore aroma – aromatic dryness tugging against creamy sweetness – follows on the heels of this myrrhic wave.
Oddly enough, for a younger oil, the 2017 version does not smell as green or as minty-fresh as the 2016 batch, but rather, earthy, rich, and spicy. Whether you prefer one over the other will depend on whether you favor fresh and green over earthy and ‘red’, or vice versa. My preference is for the 2017 batch.
Absolute Sandalwood (Clive Christian)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Absolute Sandalwood combines an ashy tobacco note with aromatic sandalwood and a whole pain d’épices worth of rich spices (cinnamon, nutmeg, black pepper, and clove) for a result that splits the difference between Egoïste (Chanel) and Journey for Men (Amouage).
If you are looking for sweet and creamy a la Bois des Îles (Chanel) or Samsara (Guerlain), then know that this is not that. But if you like a spicy, rugged masculine take on sandalwood, then Absolute Sandalwood is a winner. With the Coca Cola richness of Egoïste coming to play, and a touch of warm resin flirting around the basenotes, this is the sort of stuff that might reasonably be described as ‘handsome’.
It is rich, warm, and thoroughly satisfying. Absolute Sandalwood remains true to the Clive Christian approach with this line of concentrated perfume oils, which is to say it is relatively sugar-free and tending towards the masculine side of the spectrum.
Photo by Marion Botella on Unsplash
Alec d’Urberville (Arcana)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Company description: The profligate essence of an aristocratic libertine. Amber resin, charred Madagascar vanilla, French cognac, clove, sandalwood, and dark musk. Limited Edition.
Alec d’Urberville is a turbo-powered fist bump of sweaty-metallic clove and rugged sandalwood, with a thick, gooey molasses accord tucked into its trunk. The interplay between sour, sweet, and burnt spice gives it an interestingly smoky char. It continues on in this vein for most of the ride before quieting down to a dank sandalwood with liquor and vanilla bean paste rubbed into the grain.
For fans of spicy-woody perfumes, Alec d’Urberville is an interesting proposition. Understand that you must be able to tolerate clove notes in order to make it past the first hour or so. To me, it reads like an easy-going perfume oil version of Diptyque’s cinnamon-and-opoponax masterpiece, Eau Lente. I recommend it highly to people who spend a lot of time outdoors, because, when mixed with the musk of one’s own body after physical exertion, it forms a halo of fiery woods and golden vanilla around its wearer that is sustenance onto itself.
Arabesque (Alkemia)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Company description: An exquisitely spiritual blend of beautifully aged Arabian sandalwood, Mysore sandalwood, precious Egyptian kyphi, sweet orris root, benzoin resin, cassia, and blessed spikenard.
Despite the initial blast of clean, terpenic wood, Arabesque is not an especially sandalwood-forward blend. After the blond woodiness of the topnotes fades, it develops into a powdery benzoin-driven amber with the glitter of iris and lemon sugar on top. This is Alkemia’s most popular blend, and I can see why. It is sweet, sparkling, and soapy – a freshly powdered Siamese kitten in scent form.
But it is not sandalwood. Instead, it is the interaction between the iris (dusty, silvery) and the benzoin (vanillic, lemony, cinnamon-spicy) that really drives this car. Kyphi, the ancient Egyptian version of barkhour – compressed incense blocks of powdered sandalwood, resins, and aromatics – contributes a vaguely gummy, incensey sweetness that underpins the benzoin and iris.
It is a lovely perfume. But the whole ‘aged Arabian sandalwood’ backstory makes my palms itch. Arabian sandalwood, aged or otherwise, does not exist because sandalwood trees do not grow in the Middle East. There are, of course, Arabian sandalwood perfume oils. These are largely cheap sandalwood synthetics mixed with other oils to achieve a certain ‘Arabian’-flavored exoticism. Although most of the fragrance world is driven by fantasy and make-believe, indie companies like Alkemia and Nava – another serial offender – really ought to stop flogging the idea of exclusivity or rarity in connection to materials bought off the rack at The Perfumer’s Apprentice.
Of course, as consumers, we should also try harder not to fall quite so hard or so fast for marketing guff like this. Given the current cost and rarity of real Mysore sandalwood oil, we should all assume that a blend costing about twenty dollars for fifteen milliliters will not contain any of it.
And to be fair, for Alkemia, and most of the American indie oil sector, sandalwood is more a fantasy of a precious raw material than the precious raw material itself. Which, by the way, is fine. It is the premise of the World Wrestling Entertainment, i.e., if we are all willingly involved in the suspension of disbelief, then nobody gets hurt. But sprinkling the word ‘Mysore sandalwood’ in the notes list willy nilly like that? Quit your bullshit, Jan.
Rant aside, Arabesque is a thoroughly loveable perfume oil and will please fans of soft spicy-ambery scents that purr rather than roar. It shares some ground with Iris Oriental (Parfumerie Generale), Fleur Oriental (Miller Harris), and even Sideris (Maria Candida Gentile), albeit far simpler than any of these.
Photo by Rachael Gorjestani on Unsplash
Arrival of The Queen of Sheba (Possets)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Company description: Mysore sandalwood, suede, frankincense, patchouli, 4 vanillas. This blend is tough and tender at the same time, like the queen herself. This one makes vanilla turn tricks as an oriental ingredient and all of the fabulous elements get along so well. It is an instant sex classic.
Let’s be clear. Not a single drop of Mysore sandalwood oil was harmed in the production of Arrival of The Queen of Sheba. Like many fragrance fans, I care more about the magic a talented perfumer can pull off in a composition than whether the materials they use are natural or synthetic. The most stunning perfumes in the world – Mitsouko, Shalimar, Chanel No. 5 – are a mix of synthetic and natural materials, but blended in such a complex, abstract manner that you only notice their overall beauty.
I do not have a particular fetish for all-natural perfumes, or perfumes that mythologize one of the constituent raw materials. But I do not particularly agree with the widespread practice of being disingenuous with customers over the naturalness or source of certain materials. None of the American indie oil perfume houses can afford to import or buy genuine Mysore sandalwood oil in the quantity or price required to make perfumes that sell at twenty dollars per six milliliters. One might argue that the Mysore sandalwood narrative so frequently used in the American indie sector is a harmless piece of fiction – a social pact between company and customer. Still, the fake sourcing narratives rankle with those who have smelled the genuine materials or know even a little about the difficulty of obtaining them.
Marketing shenanigans aside, Arrival of The Queen of Sheba opens with a blast of photograph-drying chemicals, momentarily catching me off guard and making me wonder if I am in for a bit of a wild ride here. But no. While Sheba boasts four types of vanilla, one molecule less or one molecule more makes not even the slightest bit of difference to the creamy blandness of the outcome. Don’t get me wrong – The Queen of Sheba is genuinely very nice, drying down to a pale woodsy affair with soft milky suede accents. But for the price, it is not doing very much.
I think the main problem in Arrival of The Queen of Sheba is that it features the signature Possets vanilla (or four different variations on it) in a starring role instead of relegating it to the back where it can do no harm. When pushed to the fore, you can see plainly that it is the sort of vanilla that smells a bit plasticky, like melted ice-cream or a vanilla candle at the Yankee Candle store. It is not offensive or jarring, but it does smell slightly cheap.
Bois Exotique (Ava Luxe)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Bois Exotique is a puzzle. It features a sharp, almost rooty sandalwood note (surely synthetic) over an amber and patchouli base that reads as creamy, soapy, and vaguely minty. The balmy mouthfeel of the sweetened patchouli is close to the waxy white chocolate texture of Hiram Green’s wonderful Arbolé Arbolé. (In terms of overall aroma, however, they are nothing alike).
There is also an attractive Coca Cola note at the beginning, common to many superb sandalwood fragrances such as Bois des Îles and Egoïste, both by Chanel. Yet, undeniably, the quality and density of this scent places Bois Exotique in the same category as other indie perfume oils rather than alongside those belonging to classic perfumery. There is both a handmade quality and a loose, casual structure to Bois Exotique that reminds me of popular ‘sandalwoody’ indie oils, such as Alkemia’s Arabesque or Nava’s Santalum.
Still, no shade intended. There is something deeply pleasing about the dichotomy in Bois Exotique between the bitter, woody facets and the sweet waxy-milky facets. Powdery incense notes shift in like a sprinkling of crystallized sugar on top of plain bread. The combination of bitter and sweet adds a frisson to the scent. At points, it is as moreish as chocolate.
It is this clever counter-posing of notes that helps me to finally settle the overall place of Ava Luxe in the pecking order as somewhere between the American indie oil sector and niche. Her work is more nuanced than most indie oil companies, and she is deeply beloved by her loyal customer base. Yet the uneven quality and low quality of some of the raw materials rank her output at just slightly below other American indie perfume brands such as DSH Perfumes, Aftelier, and Sonoma Scent Studio. Still, when something works, it really works. And on balance, Bois Exotique works.
Dabur Chandan Ka Tail (Oil of Sandalwood)
Type: essential oil
Dabur sandalwood oil is pure Santalum album from India, though not from the Mysore region. It is sold as an ayurvedic medicine rather than a perfume, a fact many sandalwood fans (including me) choose to ignore, using it as perfume instead. It comes in a small glass container with a rubber cap to allow penetration by a syringe, but for perfume purposes, it is highly advisable that, once opened, you decant the oil into another container so as to avoid contamination from the rubber cap. Personally, I am not that meticulous, so my bottle of Dabur oil sits happily in its original bottle, and if there is a little rubbery taint to the topnotes, well then I do not mind. It adds character.
Dabur is a solid Santalum album oil, as equally unpretentious in aroma as it is in price. The topnotes are tainted with a bitter, smoky rubber overtone, which I genuinely enjoy. Once past that, the oil settles into a sweet, buttery sandal aroma with miles of depth. Like all s. album oils, it is not loud, but it is certainly a great deal more robust than more delicate artisanal oils. It is also not as linear, thanks to those notes of rubber, smoke, and fuel exhaust. I do not know if the supply of this oil is sustainable, so I am planning to stock up. Though it works brilliantly under commercial perfumes that need a sandalwood boost, it is also a thoroughly satisfying wear on its own.
Photo by Laura Mitulla on Unsplash
Khaliji (Al Rehab)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Khaliji is the most daring fragrance in the Al Rehab rollerball line-up. In pairing a fresh, aromatic lemongrass with an armpitty cumin, it arrives at a compromise between a good Southeast Asian curry and the undershirt of a Cairo taxi driver in high summer. It is equally repellent and attractive, which is, of course, precisely what makes it interesting.
Its vegetally-green cardamom note momentarily recalls the water-logged ‘figgy’ sandalwood of Le Labo’s Santal 33. But in truth, the strongest point of comparison is to the aromatic, cumin-flecked woody notes of Le Labo’s Rose 31. In case that comparison got your hopes up, let me equivocate. First, there is no rose in the Al Rehab (some will not miss it). Second, the scratchy synthetic wood aromachemical that defines the Le Labo is absent, replaced by a smooth, featureless sandalwood accord. Third, the curried-armpit nuance is stronger in the Al Rehab.
I find Khaliji to be a striking fragrance, with a deeply aromatic drydown that lasts forever on the skin. Get past the shock of the cumin-and-lemon tandem in the opening and you are good to go. It would make for an excellent masculine, its swampy, spice-laden woodiness blooming beautifully on sweaty male skin in summer. The juxtaposition between the fresher aromatic notes (lemongrass, cardamom) and the warmer, dustier ones (cumin, sandalwood) is very well handled, especially for a low-budget oil perfume such as this. The final impression it leaves is that of savory bread pudding made entirely of creamed woods.
Majan (Amouage)
Type: mukhallat
Majan is a sort of twin to Molook, except where Molook is a duet between Hindi oud and ambergris, Majan is a duet between sandalwood and ambergris. As in Molook, the quality of the ambergris used in Majan is sublime – softly fecal, marine, warm, deep, and with tobacco and leather tonalities for depth and vigor. Something about it feels aged, like the pages of an old manuscript, but there is a feathery sweetness there too. The vintage feel is enhanced by the slight civet-like undertone of the ambergris. Wearing it may remind vintage lovers of older ambergris- and civet-heavy fragrances such as Patou Joy parfum and Dioressence.
Working backwards from the base – ambergris – to the top, the first half of this attar is almost purely sandalwood, with a side of musky rose. The sandalwood used in Majan is very high quality. There is quite possibly some amount of Mysore sandalwood here, although it is might also be oil from the newer Santalum album plantations in Australia mixed with a sandalwood synthetic or two to get it to sing. Whatever the material, the opening is a joyously creamy sandalwood affair that will tug on the heartstrings of any sandalwood aficionado.
The prevalent aroma, to start with, is slightly oily, peanut-like, and raw, like a freshly-split log of wood, which is typical of genuine Mysore sandalwood. The lumberyard notes soon soften as they melt into a warm, rosy, milky aroma associated with fine sandalwood. Rose adds a flush to the cheeks of the wood, and vanilla a sweet creaminess – but these are bit players, there just to help flesh out the aroma of the sandalwood.
At some point in the life of the attar, the sandalwood and rose drop away completely, revealing the warm saltwater taffy of that wonderful ambergris. The switch is complete, leaving very little overlap between the first layer (sandalwood-rose) and the second (ambergris). However, when the two main players of any attar are as incredible as natural sandalwood and ambergris, then it matters not if they aren’t seamlessly knitted together. Majan is first rate work, and my personal favorite from the older Amouage line just behind Badr al Badour.
Memphis (NAVA)
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Company description: Sandalwood, Spicey [sic] Berries, Egyptian Musk, Citrus, Heliotrope
I am beginning to suspect that the strangely waxy-gluey nuance at the top of most NAVA blends is their version of sandalwood. Pitched halfway between furniture polish and vegetable oil, it casts an unattractive layer of sealing wax over the other notes, obscuring and muffling their sound to such an extent that one sometimes smells very little indeed. I am at a loss to name what natural or synthetic sandalwood smells like this, but its blond, pale nature does indeed suggest a sandalwood note of some derivation.
As with most NAVA blends, the muffling wax ladled over the opening of Memphis eventually dissipates somewhat to reveal something of the underlying structure, which here consists of sharp fruit, citrus, and an accord that I would describe as ‘generic men’s aftershave’. Mixing with the blandly oily sandalwood, this forms an accord that is both fresh-bitter and milky-gluey. This might have been a better perfume had the dial been moved more definitively towards one or the other, but as it is, Memphis is the epitome of ‘almost there-ness’. I don’t think Elvis would have been particularly moved by this either.
Mysore 1984 (Ensar Oud)
Type: essential oil
This oil, a vintage Mysore oil unearthed and verified by Ensar Oud himself, was allegedly stored for decades in a rusty old tin by a guy who had no idea he was sitting on a pot of gold. (Maybe it is true, I don’t know. In the artisanal sector, swallowing a bit of guff comes with the territory). Anyway, in what seems to be an almost predictable piece of good fortune, the same vendor managed to unearth a second tin of the same oil, sold it to Ensar, and is now once again available for purchase. As ever, once it is gone, it is gone. Perhaps by the time this Guide finally gets published, it is already a relic.
Griping about implausible backstory aside, the 1984 Mysore from Ensar Oud is, for me, the epitome of what a Mysore sandalwood oil should smell like. Most people smelling Mysore sandalwood for the first time are surprised at how distant it is from the fantasy version presented in commercial perfumery, where a cocktail of sandalwood synthetics and vanilla are used to fluff out its proportions to stadium-filling volume.
Having said that, Mysore 1984 smells more like the fantasy of Mysore sandalwood long held in my head than any of my other Mysore samples, meaning it skips completely over the blond “peanutty” and terpenic portions of Mysore to get straight to the meat of the aroma. It is boomingly sweet, indecently rich, red-brown in aroma, and possessed of an incensey depth suggestive of resin and amber.
In fact, this oil does not possess any peanut-shell rawness at all, displaying instead a gouty roundness suggestive of maturity. It teeters between sweet and salty, perhaps tipping the scales a little more towards sugar than the salt. But it contains just enough resin and wood notes to counter the sweetness, and so everything is held in perfect balance. Later, the oil develops that dry-creamy push-pull effect so characteristic of fine Mysore – the buttery, sour cream facets pushing back against the dry, aromatic dustiness inherent to sandalwood. I love it in the wistful, quasi-resentful way one loves any non-renewable resource.
Mysore Sandalwood (Gulab Singh Johrimal)
Type: essential oil
At first, this oil is quite sharp, green, and bitter. It also smells smoky, as if the oil has crossed paths with a campfire. Immediately detectable are the keenly terpenic, head-spinning rawness that sandalwood shares with industrial glue, which makes me think that the oil is genuine but just needs to settle a bit.
The next stage is more characteristic of Santalum album, with its salted peanut savor and cloudy milkiness. However, it lacks the fatty, double-creamed body of the other samples, and comes across as a sort of de-fatted version of the real thing. With its brusque, astringent woodiness, it reminds me more of the inside of a wood carver’s workshop than a true Mysore. It is perfectly nice, but not worth the price I paid for it, which was $25 for one milliliter.
Mysore Sandalwood (via Josh Lobb of Slumberhouse)
Type: essential oil
Josh Lobb very kindly included a sample of Mysore sandalwood oil in an order I made with him in 2017, presumably the same sandalwood he uses in Slumberhouse blends that feature it prominently, such as Grev. It is always interesting to smell the oils and absolutes that artisanal, small-batch perfumers use in their perfumes, because if the customer is not going to be wearing it neat, then the raw material or essential oil itself does not have to display the same range of nuances or subtleties – it just has to be strong enough to make its voice heard over a cacophony of other materials.
This is the case here: the sample smells rather pungent and cheesey, like a Laotian plantation oud oil with lots of stale, dusty ‘off notes’ that might make wearing it neat a bit of a trial. However, in a blend, it is potent and creamy enough to broadcast a message of ‘sandalwood’ in large neon letters, which is all that is really required of it. Worn neat, the drydown of the oil smells furry and slightly foul, as if cross-contaminated with deer musk or ambergris.
Mystery Indian Oil
Type: concentrated perfume oil
Kindly included in a care package of attar and oil samples sent to me by an American-Indian friend, this oil seems to be a no-name oil picked up in one of the perfume shops in Mumbai or Delhi, of which there are hundreds. I include it here because, although its provenance is murky, its aroma is somewhat typical of what one might expect of an oil like this, and therefore my description might be of use.
The topnotes smell tainted, as if it has encountered heavy metals, rubber tubing, and smoke, before being filtered to remove most – but not all – of the impurities. Many sandalwood oils, especially the cheaper ones, smell contaminated in this manner, but with a bit of patience, one can learn to tolerate and even appreciate the odd little bits of detritus floating in and around the pure sandal aroma. Similarly, one of my favorite Western niche sandalwood perfumes – Etro’s Sandalo eau de cologne – smells like an industrial accident at first but ultimately manages to frame it as an elegant quirk rather than a defect.
What makes the mystery Indian oil a bit different, however, is its strong current of sour, greenish terpenes and nail varnish, making me suspect that the oil has been cut with paraffin, D.O.P., or a low quality santalum spiccatum. This ‘inferior wood’ impression dissipates after a while, allowing us to glimpse the smoky, buttery sandal aroma lurking underneath. It is more sandalwood-ish than truly sandalwoody, but again, I have smelled far worse.
The best way to describe the sandal oils one buys in Indian shops is that they put on a good impression of real sandalwood oil, but only in fits and bursts. This oil is no exception. Its smoky-creamy midsection is genuinely pleasing, but when a sharp, aftershavey base arrives to obscure the sandal, it gives up any pretense of being real sandalwood. Still, the fresh, almost bitter shaving foam finish to this oil would make it a good option for men who prefer barbershop-style sandalwoods over the sweet, creamy version that women instinctively prefer.
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 Ava Luxe, Oil of Sandalwood, Arcana, NAVA, Possets, Alkemia, Amouage, Al Rehab, and Gulab Singh Johrimal. The samples from Ensar Oud, Rising Phoenix Perfumery, and Clive Christian were sent to me free of charge either by the brand or a distributor. Other samples were kindly donated to me by Josh Lobb and Basenotes friends.
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.
