Motia Attar
Areej le Doré (2022)

Out of the three species of jasmine most commonly distilled in attar making, motia (or mogra, as it is sometimes called) is the most popular, and is made from Jasminum sambac, the famous ‘Arabian’ jasmine. Ruh motia itself is almost exclusively distilled in Kannauj these days (whereas solvent-extracted Sambac absolutes and concretes can be found elsewhere). Now this is where things get really strange. If you know your Sambac jasmine, then you walk into Motia having a pretty good idea of what this is going to smell like – minty, fresh, a bit coarse (in a good way), sexy, slightly sour-leathery in the lower register, etc. Good ole Sambac jasmine, in other words, and yes, quite recognizably distinct from the classical, sweet grandiflorum type.

However, for much of its lifespan, Motia doesn’t smell much like jasmine of any species at all. You do get a floating layer of green floral soap that may or may not be jasmine, but this nuance is far more wax than flower. There is a strong aroma of propolis, as well as flashing hints of that grapey benzyl acetate high note that some jasmine materials push to the front, so the jasmine clearly is there, somewhere. But, in passing through that dusky almond-green floor wax accord, the sound it emits seems to be muted. It smells to me like what I imagine the pearly white fat remaining from a jasmine enfleurage might have smelled several hundred years ago, when enfleurage was discovered as an extraction technique.

I like Motia, perhaps because off-center approaches to floral essences as characterful (and recognizable) as jasmine are always more interesting to me than the standard soliflore treatment. I get a real kick out of the fact that this smells more of cream of wheat and wax and propolis than of jasmine itself. In fact, Motia reminds me that there is this strange alchemy that occurs when jasmine meets sandalwood that transmogrifies the flower and the wood into something that smells like a warm, silky bowl of porridge. This wheaten, nubby cream accord strongly recalls other jasmine-sandalwood accords such as that found in the central axis of Dries Van Noten (Frederic Malle) or in Feromone Donna (Abdes Salaam Attar).

Motia is a real education for the nose. In the ‘strange but true’ category, I also have samples of the Areej Le Doré spray perfumes that are based on these attars, and the one based on this motia attar most definitely smells like Sambac jasmine.

A thoroughly disappointing outing from Areej le Dore, and for fragrances in general. I'll write one review and post it on all six attars, since I was foolish enough to buy the whole set.

The scents...not even going to say much about them. Whatever the flower is as indicated in the name is what you get. If, for instance, you've smelled rose absolute, then Gulab smells like that, slightly diluted with the sandalwood base. They are all very potent straight from the bottle, and some, like Champa, to a nauseating degree. Applying to the skin and letting it die down a bit helps with this, but still leaves you with an underwhelming, single note. They're very boring across the board. The sandalwood oil is weak, and lasts but a mere 2-3 hours. I applied these mostly to the top of my hand to avoid any surface wear. The site, of course, advertises 12+ hours. The others last longer, but nowhere near advertised.

Aside from the weak and boring scents presented, the entire approach to this release is disappointing, and feels like a con. The descriptions are full of immature mumbo jumbo like descriptions of "whipped cream and bananas". They speak of the eternal journey you may go on when the indolic notes caress your cilia. Common with fragrance marketing of course, but poorly executed, like a Fragrantica review.

But wait, there's more! The drivel relating to traditional copper deg distillation and amount of petals required, etc, just doesn't really matter when you release something this unimaginative. These are supposed to be the ingredients that a perfumer uses to make a fragrance. In that regard, I have tried using them to add a note to a different fragrance, for instance placing some oil on my skin and then spraying a Gulf Collection Roja on top. It seems to have minimal effect, and certainly not worth having it in your collection for that. Otherwise, there is no use for these.

Further, we see Areej le Dore starting to use other lowly tactics to market. If you've ever purchased clothing from luxury brands, you will likely have seen the tag that says something to the effect of, "each garment possesses individual characteristics that make it unique. Variations in coloring and stitching are what make these garments stand out." Right. Marketing jargon to consumer translation is "we have poor production and quality control measures in place, and refuse to lose a dime on bad products that make it through, despite the exorbitant markups." In this case, it applies to the bottles, which may or may not have air bubbles in them. All of a sudden, that's an art piece. Sorry Adam, these Chinese glass bottles are not art pieces. The cheap sticker labels they placed on them are already peeling straight out of the package.

This is an enormous strike against the brand. Realistically speaking, several Areej le Dore fragrances aren't even that great. The compositions and progressions are interesting, and the quality of the ingredients is superb. I certainly appreciate that aspect. But rarely have I said "this smells amazing". The oud releases from the brand, however, are impeccable if one enjoys that family of scents.

The lids on these attars sure are nice, though.