Year: 2011
Notes: ambrette seed, carrot seed, coriander, black pepper, cardamom, elemi, violet, hawthorn, Turkish rose, Moroccan rose, jasmine, orris, almond milk, vanilla, patchouli, leather, Laotian oud, tonka bean, Siam benzoin, amber, white woods, sandalwood
Comment: Eau de Parfum review
When launching a new niche house, the easiest (or laziest) option is to employ the services of an established perfumer, instead of the founder composing the fragrances themselves. However, such an option becomes very clichéd when that very perfumer is Bertrand Duchaufour...
With the bottles designed by Pierre Dinand, the offerings serve as an olfactory exploration of Indian history and culture. And although a self-confessed perfume connoisseur, founder Neela Vermeire comes across more as a business opportunist, in a lucrative (and cut-throat) industry where anyone can claim to have been interested in fragrances, since childhood, and the general public would be gullible enough to believe them.
With Mohur (the name of a gold coin of British India), it's a spicy rose offering that tries too hard to be complex and profound, with a notably hefty serving of rose. There's also a generous serving of spices, which darken the rose accords a bit too much. When combined with the jasmine, the rose aspect is creamy and plum-like, with a powdery elegance accentuated by the accompanying orris.
Apart from the sandalwood, the woods are relatively subdued (even the oud) and the leather is closer to that of suede. With a creamy and resinous woody base, the final moments on the skin are both placid and comforting, while a faint rose jamminess still continues to smoulder.
Personally, one is conflicted. On the one hand, Mohur possesses a dreamy drydown that puts the drydown of Maria Candida Gentile's Cinabre to shame. However, at the same time, one finds Cinabre's exuberantly dusky and spicy rose opening better balanced and far more convincing. While both have their merits, if it was possible to take their best aspects and fuse them together, the end result would be heavenly.
Staying quite close to the skin, it prevails for at least six hours.
With the bottles designed by Pierre Dinand, the offerings serve as an olfactory exploration of Indian history and culture. And although a self-confessed perfume connoisseur, founder Neela Vermeire comes across more as a business opportunist, in a lucrative (and cut-throat) industry where anyone can claim to have been interested in fragrances, since childhood, and the general public would be gullible enough to believe them.
With Mohur (the name of a gold coin of British India), it's a spicy rose offering that tries too hard to be complex and profound, with a notably hefty serving of rose. There's also a generous serving of spices, which darken the rose accords a bit too much. When combined with the jasmine, the rose aspect is creamy and plum-like, with a powdery elegance accentuated by the accompanying orris.
Apart from the sandalwood, the woods are relatively subdued (even the oud) and the leather is closer to that of suede. With a creamy and resinous woody base, the final moments on the skin are both placid and comforting, while a faint rose jamminess still continues to smoulder.
Personally, one is conflicted. On the one hand, Mohur possesses a dreamy drydown that puts the drydown of Maria Candida Gentile's Cinabre to shame. However, at the same time, one finds Cinabre's exuberantly dusky and spicy rose opening better balanced and far more convincing. While both have their merits, if it was possible to take their best aspects and fuse them together, the end result would be heavenly.
Staying quite close to the skin, it prevails for at least six hours.
