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Oud for oud despisers
Oud. This is a fundamentally polarizing issue. While the lovers of warm animalism and oriental authenticity rave about it, the oud negroes find clear words: "Cowshed, camel call and doctor's office."
In my case, the word oud has an ambivalent meaning. When I think back today to my failed attempt with Oud Ispahan, the hairs on the back of my neck spontaneously stand up in the direction of alert. Gucci's Oud Intense is very much appreciated by my husband and I love the fragrance in him - it even happens that every now and then I reach for this bottling myself in my quiet little room. And then there is the magnificent London of Widian, of which I still guard half a millilitre like the holy grail. It will certainly be worthy of a bottle sometime in the distant future - but I digress.
I always appreciate Oud when he manages to give a fragrance a certain edge without pushing himself into the foreground and drifting off towards penetrance.
About a week ago I received a bottling of a lovely perfume, which was accompanied by a generous addition of "Oud Alif". I was skeptical. It could mean "all or nothing". The name already showed the oud with confidence and in combination with "Alif" it immediately aroused the association of a heavy oriental with the extra portion of cow barn But those who don't dare ... and so on. Two courageous splashes later a question mark appears. Where's Oudo? He has announced his appearance pompously and now he leaves the eager guests standing in the rain. While I am waiting for Oudo and, quite frankly, I don't miss him very much, my nose hears a woody and leathery scent accompanied by a very fine fruity sweetness that makes him unisex as unisex can be for me. But where does this fruitiness come from, which gives the tangy-woody leather accord a friendly twist and makes it wonderfully accessible? It must be the chocolate-saffron combination, because the pyramid doesn't allow anything else. Patchouli is present all the time and harmonizes perfectly with all the other protagonists. It's not cold, damp earth, but desert sand that contributes decisively to the cuddly warm feel-good aura of the fragrance. Now I discover Oudo, who has crept quietly among those present and tries to make the best of the situation. He apologizes, explains that after feeding the milk cows and washing the barn he had to jump under the shower to get rid of his - with respect - somewhat strong smell. Well then, dear Oudo, let's forget about it. Take a glass and enjoy the evening. If you smell so fine, you're forgiven The late guests are usually the most beautiful ones anyway.
Oudo was still frequently asked about his scent that evening, received compliments from various ladies and gentlemen, but always remained modest and reserved. To push himself brazenly into the foreground, that was never his style.
He joked, celebrated exuberantly and stayed a good eight hours, even though he had to fight a little against his tiredness in the early morning hours