Dzongkha

Dzongkha reads like an olfactory meditation in a Bhutanese monastery, where sacred smoke curls around aged woodwork and ceremonial spices. Bertrand Duchaufour has orchestrated something genuinely arresting here: the lychee blossom and peony opening feels deceptively delicate, almost watery-fresh, before the masala chai and frankincense barrel through with their resinous warmth. This isn't the sweet, milky chai of a London café—it's the real article, cardamom pods cracked open and smouldering alongside incense in thin mountain air. The vetiver holds everything in a woody vice, its earthy, almost citric quality preventing the composition from collapsing into generic oriental territory. What makes Dzongkha compelling is how the leather emerges—not as bombastic cuir de Russie, but as worn prayer books and temple hangings, soft and lived-in. The iris and papyrus create an unusual textural dryness in the base, almost dusty, that plays beautifully against the smokiness threading through every stage. This is for those who find typical "spiritual" fragrances too cloying or obvious, who want their incense fragrances to feel authentically spare rather than perfume-counter safe. It suits contemplative souls who dress in natural fibres and architectural silhouettes, worn during grey afternoons spent reading or walking through empty galleries. There's an ascetic quality here that won't appeal to everyone, but that's entirely the point.