Mysore Incenza
Areej le Doré (2022)

This is my favorite from this collection so far. It simple but not simplistic. It doesn’t have that typical frankincense + vanilla combo that many post Avignon incense fragrances have (aldehydes). This has a rich sandalwood in its base which gives this a different vibe. The frankincense gets lost a bit in the mix. It’s slightly smokey, but not as much as others would have, at least on my skin. It’s pleasant but not “bowl you over” great. This one might have the potential to be a sleeper that I regret not getting. It will take some more time with this one.

Adjust your expectations. You see, I know what you’re thinking. You see the words ‘Mysore’ and ‘incense’ and, like Pavlov’s dog, you immediately salivate, expecting something warm, ambered, and resinous, like Sahara Noir or Amber Absolute mixed with the best, creamiest version of Bois des Iles or Bois Noir (Chanel) that ever existed, but somehow better, you know, because it is all artisanal and therefore deeper, richer, more authentic than anything you can buy on the shelves of your local department store or even niche perfumery.

Mysore Incenza is not that. In fact, so large was the gap between my expectations and reality that I had to wear it five times in a row to come to terms with what it is rather than what I thought it was going to be. In pairing the extremely high-pitched, dusty, lime-peel notes of frankincense with the extremely soft, ‘neutral’ woody tones of the vintage Mysore sandalwood (from 2000) included in the attar set (read my review here), a transubstantiation of sorts is performed, and something else entirely emerges.

Specifically, this new creature is born in the surprising mold of Chanel No. 19 or Heure Exquise (Annick Goutal), with one small toe dipped into the Grey Flannel genepool on the way. At least at first. It glitters in this high, pure register, an explosion of Grappa, lime peel, and wood alcohol chased by baby powder, a striking frankincense, and what smells to me like the dusky, cut-bell-pepper dryness of galbanum and the slightly shrill smell of violet leaf. This creates a dry, clean, woody aroma that smells purified and ascetic. This kind of frankincense, perhaps changed by the presence of the sandalwood, smells unlit – slightly waxy, slightly powdered, and definitely not smoky, although it occurs to me that the perception of smokiness is as personal and nuanced as your political beliefs.

There is no warmth, no sweetness, and no comfort at all. Don’t look towards the sandalwood to provide any relief, either. Mysore Incenza is cleansing, angular, and ‘holy’ in the same way as other famously austere scents in incense canon are, such as Incense Extreme (Tauer), Encens Flamboyant (Annick Goutal), and Ambra (Lorenzo Villoresi). These are all fragrances that steer away from softening the jutting sharpness of frankincense with amber or vanilla or flowers, choosing instead to focus on the dry, musky-soapy, ‘hard core’ character of resin that radiates hard, like tiny particles of mica or dust leaping off the bible when the priest thumps it to make a point in the angriest of angry sermons. Mysore Incenza keeps you kneeling straight, anxiously waiting for the priest to say that you can sit back down again. Although technically beautiful, it is most definitely not my kind of thing. My personal tastes run towards hedonism and gluttony rather than asceticism. I put the hair shirt away a long time ago. People who loved Grandenia will also love Mysore Incenza, as there is something of the same vibe.