Areej Le Doré
Areej Le Doré
100 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The Russian castoreum hits first with an almost medicinal warmth, immediately undercut by cumin's dry spice and the peculiar fuzzy richness of beaver tail oil—it's animalic in the most unsettling sense, like stepping into something raw and unrefined. Juniper berry offers the sole gesture toward brightness before birch tar creeps in, transforming the composition into something that smells less like fragrance and more like the interior of a craftsman's workshop.
The leather begins its full emergence now, dark and Russian-leaning, as vanilla and rose slip in almost apologetically beneath it—they're present but entirely submissive to the woody, tar-inflected base notes rising through. The geranium and iris provide only the thinnest frame of florality, barely visible through the oakmoss and violet leaf absolute that have begun their ascent.
What remains is predominantly leather and tar, with the Canadian castoreum adding a final animalic whisper that feels almost skeletal in its refinement. Manipur oud arrives late to gentle the composition slightly, though by this stage Cuirtis has settled into a deeply woody, slightly smoky second skin—intimate, skin-close, and utterly indifferent to whether you find it beautiful.
Cuirtis announces itself as a fragrance for those who find beauty in roughness—a scent that smells like you've just walked into a tannery where something genuinely animalic is being crafted into something wearable. The Russian castoreum in the opening arrives with an almost confrontational warmth, fuzzy and medicinal, immediately joined by cumin that adds a dusty, slightly spiced dimension rather than culinary sweetness. What makes Cuirtis compelling is how it refuses to soften these aggressive opening notes; instead, it doubles down, layering American beaver tail oil and birch tar into the composition, creating an accord that reads simultaneously vintage and intentional—like someone deconstructed a 1970s leather jacket and decided to wear it as a second skin.
The heart reveals a curious restraint: vanilla and rose emerge not as sweetening agents but as pale shadows moving through dense smoke and leather. This is where the geranium and iris earn their place, offering only the faintest floral structure—enough to suggest balance without compromising the composition's decidedly animalic character. The nyctanthes (night-blooming jasmine) contributes a slightly almond-tinged, almost medicinal florality that feels distinctly out of place, which is precisely why it works.
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4.2/5 (238)