Julieta

I dare to doubt that Mr. Guichard has so undertaken in the creation of Bois Noir, but he has succeeded, probably completely unintentionally, the most authentic implementation of a Palo Santo note for my nose in a perfume that I have ever come across. I was looking for a long time, but have so far always been disappointed when I have been tempted by the mention of Palo Santo in the fragrance pyramid or even in the name to test.

From Bois Noir, on the other hand, I did not expect such a thing at all. Sounded just quite nice. But I had rather expected something fir forest, coniferous. And then my heart has already risen with the first spray. Suddenly I'm on Avenida Corrientes in Buenos Aires, where every fifty meters a street vendor burns Palo Santo next to mate cups, leather belts, sunglasses and fake Nike socks to convince the walk-in customers of the quality of the incense on offer.
For me, the scent of gently smoking palo santo is inextricably linked to Buenos Aires, where I spent three formative and all-changing years, and where a not-so-small piece of my heart has probably stuck forever. Palo Santo is ubiquitous there, not just among hippies and New Age freaks, but among housewives and office hags, hipsters and craftsmen alike, because everyone knows that smoking Palo Santo cleanses a house of bad energies. For me, this scent is home, warm afternoon sun on the rooftops of skyscrapers, dearly loved homes of dearly loved people, and a hundred more fond memories called up by its resinous sweetness without detouring the intellect.

Exactly this rich bouquet of impressions, memories and emotions came wafting out of my bottling of Bois Noir completely unexpectedly. Eyes closed, enjoy, smile. For me, nothing here is noir, gloomy or joyless. On the contrary, I feel the fragrance as warm and comforting, which admittedly could have to do with said beautiful memories.

Now, the gentle reader is not so much interested in what emotions it evokes, but how it smells (especially if you've never smelled Palo Santo yourself).
So then: prelude is wood, freshly sawn, a bit dusty, a bit resinous, a bit sweetish. That what you can smell in places where a lot of work is done withwood. But not in the way of a concept scent like Memoirs of a Trespasser, which captures a very handily mundane smell in a perfume water and is perhaps not even meant to be worn so much as an experience. Bois Noir, on the other hand, is very clearly a perfume, with the purpose of smelling good. As distinct as the woody note is, it is also interwoven well with the other notes. From the fragrance pyramid, patchouli is recognizable to me (not a cellar-dwelling wet earth patchouli, but a spicy but hand-tame one), and the somewhat heavy, stuffy sweetness of labdanum. I can't detect cedar; there's absolutely nothing fresh about the scent (but it doesn't matter, that would be completely out of place here). It remains largely linear for me, but "settles" after a while on the skin - I don't know what else to call it - and seems denser and sweeter than at the beginning. Sandalwood doesn't play a prominent role either, in either its soapy or creamy facets.

All in all, Bois Noir seems dense, rounded, and finished to me. There are no cheeky notes, no outliers, nothing that somehow doesn't fit. It reminds me distantly of Akkad, but is lighter and more ethereal in its effect, not as bulky. It's a definite sweet scent, but the kind of sweetness that men who worry about masculinity stuff can wear without hesitation.
The sillage is moderate. You can smell it, but it doesn't fill the whole room. With me, he holds out just under 8 hours, at the end rather skinny.
For me, he could like to be a gaaanz klein bisschen stronger, but in view of the fact that my search for a perfume with Palo Santo note has found a happy ending, this is completely beside the point. Will just spray a little more.
I thank Clausd for the bottling, buy a bottle as soon as the budget allows it again and recommend anyone and everyone who has a soft spot for woody fragrances to test this one by all means.

A fresh oud scent. Yes ladies and gentlemen, that's exactly what it is. Some would say it's an oxymoron, because oud by definition does not smell fresh. And yet, for me, it is just that: a very clear and distinct oud scent that makes me feel clean, fresh and well-groomed all at the same time. That must be due to the lavender; I can't explain the effect any other way.
The famous brother Oud for Greatness I do not know and can therefore not compare, but other comments have already done so extensively.

So here instead my impression completely unencumbered by comparisons:
The prelude is extremely creaky and a bit musty with lots of saffron. The oud note is present for me from the beginning, the lavender, however, at this stage strangely not at all. I sprayed the fragrance on to try out before work and, given the acrid top note, briefly worried whether the whole thing wouldn't be a bit demanding for the office. By the way, acrid doesn't mean unpleasant, but it's just a heavy statement and absolutely not what European noses would usually call suitable for the office. You should like oud in general to feel comfortable with it. A quick note for the animalic-phobes: I don't understand the association of oud with stables and manure and so on anyway, because I've really never perceived it that way with any fragrance. But there are difficult and challenging oud scents, even for my nose. This one, however, is definitely not one of them.
After about 30 minutes, the creaky-dry first impression wears off, and this place then slowly comes through the lavender. The longer the fragrance is on the skin, the sweeter it becomes - not goumandsüß or fruity sweet, but a fresh, noble, pleasant sweetness that harmonizes wonderfully with the oud and plays with it. Sometimes the woody aspect reaches the nose more, sometimes the sweet aspect. Every time a whiff of this fragrance hits me, I can hardly believe how unbelievably good I smell. It is truly a pleasure and a boon to myself. From the outside, by the way, it has also compliments literally hailed, and mostly from women.

Interesting side observation on the edge:
My work colleague wanted to know in the afternoon, when the fragrance was already a few hours on the skin, whether I would wear Sauvage. And after a moment's poking, I knew what she meant. At least on me, it actually develops a note that is also found in Sauvage, and that is when the has stopped being so terribly intrusive and pungent.I feel strengthened in the suspicion that this impression of freshness is the overwhelming merit of the lavender that Oud for Glory and Sauvage share.

As for the longevity, may I report that I and others can still clearly detect the scent 10 hours after application (and I'm not one to get massively steamed up). The sillage is potent at first, later it pulls back to noticeable, but socially acceptable.
The bottle is beautiful, and to the price / performance ratio I think no more words need to lose.

I can not imagine what anyone could have to do with this gold treasure, (of course, if you like oriental fragrances themselves). If anything, he might be hardcore Orient fanatics too light on their feet. But even they might need an alternative now and then that doesn't offend outsider noses so much. Search no more, because here it is: the fresh Oud fragrance.

As the name suggests, a beautiful dual of oud and vanilla. I don't smell jasmine. Warm, a little sticky-gourmand, but not in an unpleasant way. The oud holds back and doesn't steal the show from the vanilla. This is now nothing insanely konmplexes and also not really new, but still round, soft and a great fragrance to feel good and cuddle up.
But now comes the but: Unfortunately, he is very close to the skin with me and also not particularly well durable.
Since you can find similarly structured fragrances also at the usual suspects in the Arab sector (Lattafa, Al Haramain, etc.), where the durability is the same or even better and which cost just a quarter of what I would have to pay for Oud wa Vanilla, it will therefore run out for me rather on the Cheapie competition.

This moment in my life is definitely not a highlight. 18 months of pandemic and its consequences in almost all areas of life have properly kicked my mental health, heart and soul together, and it is currently damn hard for me to see anything other than the bleak and ugly sides of life and the world.
So, in the spirit of self-care, I try to give myself little pleasures that bring a little light and relief in all the doom and gloom.

Enter "Hajar!"

Really I did not expect much, because floral fragrances are actually not so my thing and in the fragrance pyramid now just ylang-ylang and rose geranium as top notes.
But then! Hardly applied, I am wrapped in a comforting fragrance cloud, which suggests my head clean, safe ... just feel good. I seem to recall reading somewhere that rose geranium has a mood-lifting effect. It certainly does here, at least for me. And I'm grateful for this wonderful example of the enormous impact scents can have on how you feel. A little ray of sunshine in the gloom.

Hajar is, on my skin and to my nose, a lush, warm oriental floral scent in which a rosy note clearly sets the tone, but without being overbearing or stale. Personally, I only get a hint of the woody notes on the periphery. But that doesn't matter at all, because there's really absolutely nothing wrong with the scent as I perceive it. Here there is nothing pungent, shrill or heavy.
The sillage is, as usual with perfume oils, not quite so strong, although the fragrance is still clearly audible at arm's length. The longevity is good; once applied briefly with the roller on the neck is enough for 5-6 hours. And last but not least, the PLV is absolutely unbeatable at just 8 (!) Euros for 15 ml. Hajar smells meanwhile much nobler and more expensive than it is, and has it not only because of his highly appreciated services to my well-being deserves to be adequately appreciated at this point.
But even though I've received multiple compliments on the fragrance from the outside - I probably get the most pleasure from it myself. Now and then I apply it even before bedtime on the wrists, because the feeling of security triggered by the fragrance helps me fall asleep. I was probably just lucky here, and the right scent came to the right nose at the right moment. Not everyone will perceive it the same way. In view of the very affordable price, one may dare the attempt here but quietly on good luck and is rewarded in case of doubt with an extremely pleasant surprise.

An Afghan acquaintance once gave me a large tin full of saffron threads. His mum regularly sends him such tins from Afghanistan anyway and he always has supplies. I had never smelled saffron in large quantities before and was fascinated how taste and smell can be so different for one aromatic substance. Saffron in rice tastes delicious. The saffron pure in the can smelled pungent, bitter and musty.
Why do I tell this? Because it was 1:1 the first impression after spraying Aoud Vanille. Except saffron I have initially perceived nothing. The but in an intensity that I was actually very briefly times nauseous. Vanilla, oud or even flowers - missing. A dust-dry, deep-dark, pungent medicinal saffron note, absolutely nothing else. Absolutely exactly how the saffron can smelled when it was opened. The fragrance has first absolutely nothing sweet or soft, let alone creamy, to counter this note.

I then wondered if my bottling might be tipped because the scent impression was so extremely different from the other comments here. After about 30 minutes, however, the Safrangemuffel then calmed down a bit. It doesn't disappear completely, but slowly the vanilla starts to fight its way to the fore a bit more and I can gradually smell it on my arm again without flinching. Over the course of about 3 hours, the scent turns into something like what most of the other commenters are smelling. Is therefore probably not on the sample, but on my skin chemistry, that the saffron makes such a spacey appearance.
The drydown is then really very nice - dry, completely unsweet, sandalwoody vanilla; overall a bit incense-like. Would the fragrance on me from the beginning at least as similar as what becomes of it after hours, he would definitely be a candidate for purchase. Interesting, "different" and absolutely not mainstream. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I wouldn't have the patience to endure the first 30 minutes of saffron overkill every time I put it on. If you fight through it, or if you have a skin chemistry that puts saffron in its place, you'll be rewarded with a beautiful scent that I could easily detect even after showering.