Naomi Goodsir
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Rum-drenched mango and red berries hit with surprising force, the davana creating an almost fermented, brandy-soaked fruit quality whilst orange oils provide fleeting brightness. Cistus labdanum immediately darkens the proceedings, adding leathery, amber-brown shadows that prevent this from reading as simple fruit salad—there's a resinous weight from the first spray.
The beeswax absolute emerges as the star, creating a honeyed, waxy cocoon around the fruit whilst clary sage and geranium add herbal, slightly minty facets that keep the sweetness from suffocating. Coconut and ylang-ylang meld into a creamy, custard-like floralcy, whilst the tobacco absolute begins its slow bloom, adding dried-leaf smokiness that hints at what's coming.
Tobacco, vanilla, and amber settle into a golden, resinous skin scent that's predominantly sweet but grounded by oakwood's tannic astringency and labdanum's leathery depth. The fruity opening has largely disappeared, leaving a warm, slightly smoky oriental base with traces of waxy pollen and musk—intimate, enveloping, and decidedly narcotic in its plush sweetness.
Or du Sérail is Duchaufour in full baroque mode, a hedonist's fever dream of rum-soaked fruit and beeswax that reads like orientalism through a kaleidoscope. The opening salvos of red fruits and mango meet Caribbean rum in a collision that should be garish but instead achieves a strange, honeyed sophistication—the davana lending its jammy, fermented apricot quality whilst cistus adds a darkly resinous undertow. This is no transparent fruity confection; it's dense and syrupy, with the beeswax absolute providing a waxy, pollen-dusted texture that feels almost sculptural on the skin.
The tobacco and vanilla base is where it earns its "Or" moniker—a golden, ambered warmth that never quite tips into cloying territory thanks to the oakwood absolute's tannic dryness and clary sage's aromatic bitterness cutting through the sweetness. There's an old-world opulence here, conjuring Belle Époque salons thick with incense and spilled liqueurs rather than anything ascetic or minimalist. The coconut doesn't scream tropical; instead, it reads as creamy, slightly fermented richness folded into the ylang-ylang's custard-like floralcy.
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3.9/5 (134)