Montale
Montale
227 votes
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The first spray delivers a fruit compote moment—candied orange peel and pear nectar splashed with bergamot, whilst the oud lurks underneath like dark chocolate at the bottom of a trifle. The fig adds a milky, green sweetness that briefly suggests something more natural before the synthetic grape accord muscles in with its artificial brightness.
The jasmine and iris attempt a floral intervention, bringing a brief moment of powder and petals, but they're quickly absorbed into the vanilla-patchouli-oud trinity that forms the fragrance's sweet, earthy core. The leather notes emerge as a subtle smokiness, like suede gloves dipped in vanilla extract, whilst the fruit recedes just enough to let the woods breathe.
What remains is a skin-close veil of bourbon vanilla and white musk, with the oud reduced to a soft, woody hum and the faintest echo of dried fruit. The sweetness persists but becomes creamier, almost sandalwood-like in its smooth warmth, with just enough patchouli to prevent it from going full dessert menu.
Oudmazing announces itself as a study in contrasts—Montale's characteristic brazenness meeting an unexpectedly lush fruit basket. The Malayan oud here isn't the medicinal, barnyard beast you might expect; instead, it's been sweetened and softened into something almost jammy, a dark woody presence that plays backdrop to an opening volley of Sicilian orange and bergamot that spray-paints the composition in bright citrus. The fig and pear bring a pulpy, almost overripe sweetness that borders on the gourmand, their flesh mingling with oud in a way that shouldn't work but somehow does—like biting into a poached pear that's been left to steep in oud-infused honey.
As the jasmine and iris emerge, they're nearly swallowed by that dominant sweetness, struggling to assert any real floralcy against the onslaught of vanilla and fruit. The patchouli adds earthiness without darkness, whilst the iris tries valiantly to lend powder and restraint. This is oud for people who don't actually want to smell like oud—it's been dressed in so many layers of sweetness and fruit that it becomes a supporting player rather than the star. The leather notes whisper rather than shout, and that pink grape accord (admittedly a touch synthetic) gives the whole thing a fizzy, almost effervescent quality. It's unabashedly sweet, verging on cloying, yet there's enough woody structure to keep it from tumbling into complete confectionery. This is for the oud-curious who still want their comfort blanket of vanilla, or for those evenings when subtlety can go hang.
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3.6/5 (276)