Oesel

Oesel is a study in floral opulence wrapped in powdered velvet, where Richard Melchio orchestrates a collision between Mediterranean brightness and old-world boudoir intimacy. The opening promises citrus transparency—Paraguayan petitgrain's slightly bitter, woody freshness dancing with lemon—but the orange blossom has other ideas, flooding the composition with its indolic, heady richness almost immediately. This isn't a polite soliflore; it's a full-throttled white floral arrangement where jasmine sambac's creamy, almost rubbery facets intertwine with Bulgarian rose's jammy depth and acacia's honeyed sweetness. The effect is simultaneously fresh and enveloping, like walking into a conservatory where the blooms are so abundant the air feels thick with their exhalation.

What keeps Oesel from tipping into cloying territory is that persistent petitgrain backbone and the gradual emergence of tobacco flower—not the dark, boozy leaf, but something cleaner, slightly herbaceous, with a soapy-floral character that amplifies the powdery aspects. The amber here reads more as a textural element than a resinous weight, creating a soft-focus halo around the florals whilst cedarwood and a whisper of patchouli provide just enough structure to prevent the composition from floating away entirely. This is for the fragrance enthusiast who finds Serge Lutens' florals too sharp, Frédéric Malle's too austere, and wants instead something pillowy and enveloping—though still recognisably luxe. It's boardroom-ready white floral drag, unisex in theory but undeniably femme-leaning in its sumptuous sweetness.