Atelier Des Ors Cuir Sacre, J F Schwarzlose, The House Of Oud and other reviews – Skin Time February 2021

The purr of Le Lion De Chanel has been keeping me company while I wait for the days to get longer and the skies to get bluer (and in case you’re wondering, yes, I still love it, and yes, I still think it’s one of the finest compositions the brand has given us for years). But of course, I have devoted plenty of attention to my newness-testing responsibilities, and for this month’s Skin Time round-up, I’d like to start by taking us to a land close to the Caspian Sea…

Aura Of Kazakhstan

Here’s stating the obvious: the aesthetic codes that define the difference between, say, classy and kitsch vary from culture to culture. What may seem embarrassingly corny in one setting could be considered sophisticated in another (a fact of which I was reminded many years ago when an Italian circus troupe put on some ‘entertainment’ for us guests at a Red Sea hotel in Egypt, complete with a re-enactment of some arrow-wielding, men-in-tights, Robin Hood acrobatics to the tune of, what else, Bryan Adams’ Everything I Do). Like I said: this is stating the obvious. But just because it’s obvious doesn’t mean it’s easy to remember when you’re evaluating the artistic output of a culture markedly different from your own.

Such thoughts were on my mind when I was making my way through the samples from Aura Of Kazakhstan*, a perfume brand calling itself the country’s first. I think it’s clear they’re aiming to be serious about their enterprise: their scents have been composed by Lucas Sieuzac and Sebastien Martin, amongst others. But their names and their presentation (heavy on postcard-worthy images of their home country: heroes on horseback, fields of pretty flowers, skyscrapers against snow-capped mountains etc) suggest, to my sensibilities, that their work ought to be stocked at a souvenir shop rather than a perfumery. More than likely, this is because of the aforementioned, unavoidable variations in cultural perception.

The scents themselves, as seen from the only point of view I can appropriate (ie my own) are examples of little more than derivative pleasantness. The not-especially-high highlights include Heart Of Alma Ata (a room-filling, sheesha-echoing green apple composition), Land Of Tulips (which calls to mind the narcissus of Penhaligon’s Ostara) and, to some extent, Silver Edelweiss (heavy on mineral incense notes, a la Serge Lutens L’Eau). The release which the brand appears to push as its central pillar, Black Gold, is, as far as I’m concerned, a dull, tarry, leather-vetiver.

The House Of Oud

I wonder if cultural differences can account for the choice of bottle design made by the folks at The House Of Oud*. I’ve yet to be won over by the bulbous, oversized caps, although in the interests of fairness, I should point out that I haven’t seen them in the flesh and that at least a few of my Instagram followers have given them the thumbs up. This is one of those premium-priced brands with several (too many?) perfumes already under its very young belt, most of which I have yet to try. From the samples which recently found their way to my nose, the standout was unquestionably Crop 2017 (so much so, that I gave it its own blog post) but it’s also worth mentioning the following.

Dates Delight: a sticky, boozy, but never overwhelming take on the eponymous fruit, like a cross between Cartier L’Heure Defendue and the cognac notes in some of the Frapin scents. Breathe Of The Infinite: for fans of what Paco Rabanne 1 Million used to be. Golden Powder: a well-executed, more overtly Arabian take on Tuscan Leather, with sweet tobacco and spices. And Blessing Silence: a take-no-prisoners wood-storm that occupies the territory at the intersection of Dior Leather Oud, Dior Oud Ispahan and Guerlain’s Dubai-courting ouds. 

The brand’s two most recent releases – Get The Feeling and Up To The Moon – are far more mainstream in their intentions. The former is a fairly insipid presentation of citruses with dry herbs. The latter is notable for contrasting its jasmine-magnolia heart with sour fruit. But is it interesting enough to take you all the way to the moon? More like down to the end of the road, I’d say. If you’ve got a strong wind behind you.

J F Schwarzlose

From a young brand to a revived brand. I’m informed by the press release which accompanied the samples from J F Schwarzlose* that the house was originally founded in 1856 and enjoyed tremendous success in its native Berlin before falling on hard times. It’s now been reinvigorated with a set of eight scents (composed by Mane’s Veronique Nyberg), some of which are based on the pre-demise catalogue.

To my surprise, I was rather taken with Zeitgeist, thanks to its bold juxtaposition of marine notes with woods and ambers, although it does rather lose its way towards the end of its development. Treffpunkt 8 Uhr’s opening is compelling: ginger, pepper, mango and cedar coming together to form a strange, green-metallic creature, before a fairly straightforward vetiver takes over. 20/20 can safely be relegated to the growing list of Portrait Of A Lady clones. Leder is a Knize Ten-style, clean leather, of the sort you’ve smelt several times before. Rausch – a fairly predictable take on amber and oud – doesn’t hold back on the animalics, although I’d suggest that it should. And perhaps the best of the bunch is Trance, a sticky, jammy rose, with a well-judged dose of woodiness.

Atelier Des Ors Cuir Sacre
& Rouge Saray

The most enjoyable surprise of the month came from Atelier Des Ors. This is another brand that opens itself far too easily to criticism that it’s more about style than substance (honestly, why do their bottles have to be filled with flakes of gold?), but some of their output is well worth seeking out and Cuir Sacre** is without doubt one of their most commendable releases. Composed by Marie Salamagne, it takes the rough, raw leathers of Chanel Antaeus and spices them up with a cookbook’s worth of cardamom, saffron and cumin. I’m not sure why it’s called Sacre: this stuff growls with a wickedness that couldn’t be further from saintly, but never mind, we’re not complaining. Equally rich – but far more predictable – is Rouge Saray**, playing heavy with woods, balsams and sticky-sugary fruits. 

Jean Patou 1000

Finally, my recent musings on osmanthus caused me to dig out my little sample of Jean Patou 1000** (in its more modern guise, composed by Jean Kerleo). This was a moving experience on several counts, one of which was the stark reminder it provided that the Patou brand no longer exists. I still can’t quite bring myself to believe that this is the case, and that the responsible party is LVMH. But putting that aside, I was also bowled over by the beauty of the composition: a plush, orange-blossomy, old-school floral, complete with that gauze-like sheen that is the hallmark of so many gems from the past. I gather a few bottles are still available at some online retailers; I’d urge you to grab one before they’re all gone. 

Persolaise

* sample provided by the brand
** sample obtained by me

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