Etro
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The citrus notes arrive sharp and zesty, grapefruit's bitterness particularly pronounced against blackcurrant bud's feline tang. Within minutes, pink pepper begins its crackle, joined by the more exotic spice of karo karounde—a curry-ish warmth that immediately complicates the brightness. This is the moment where Shaal Nur declares it won't be another Italian citrus cologne.
The florals emerge hesitantly, rose and orange blossom diffused through a haze of petitgrain's woody bitterness and mounting clouds of frankincense. Pink pepper continues to assert itself, creating an almost medicinal quality that makes the flowers feel preserved rather than fresh. The whole composition takes on a translucent, resinous glow—amber without sweetness, warmth without comfort.
Vetiver's earthy rootiness anchors the blend as opoponax adds its own sweet-myrrh character to the frankincense, creating a full incense accord that's tempered by cedar's dryness. Patchouli and musk provide a skin-like backdrop that's more dusty textile than clean skin. What remains is a woody, slightly spiced warmth that clings close, smelling of old prayer beads and linen stored with dried botanicals.
Shaal Nur is a study in contrasts, opening with a deceptive brightness before revealing its true character: a peppery, resinous composition that hovers between church incense and spice market. Jacques Flori has crafted something that feels both ancient and decidedly Nineties—that era's love affair with pink pepper and transparent woody musks meeting something far more atavistic in the frankincense and opoponax pairing. The citrus quartet at the top gives little warning of what's to come; it's merely a sparkling veil that burns off quickly, like morning mist over something darker beneath.
What makes Shaal Nur compelling is how the karo karounde (a little-used West African spice with curry-like facets) conspires with pink pepper to create an almost numbing, tingling quality against the skin. This isn't polite spice—it's the kind that makes your nose prickle and your attention sharpen. The rose and orange blossom are there, but they're bloodied by the pepper, stained amber by the resins. By the time the base asserts itself, you're firmly in woody-incense territory, though the patchouli here reads more forest floor than head shop, earthy and slightly musty rather than sweet.
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3.9/5 (186)