Ottoman Empire
Areej le Doré (2017)

Areej le Dore Ottoman Empire. One of my favorite Oriental blends ever. Any iteration, as long as it has "Ottoman Empire" written on it and Adam's hand at work. There are the faintest differences between them, which I perceive as minor twists to the same brilliant theme. Yes, I like to see this perfume as a "Theme" or the "Ottoman Empire Accord".

How to describe it? A Rose-Oud, a Resinous-Floral-Woody perfume, or perhaps a Spicy-Resious blend? It is woven so well that it can only be described as the most sublime and opulent Oriental melange with a more than fitting name. Imagine the luxury the Ottoman Empire exuded. That is how I visualize this scent.

The opening is spicy and warm and greets you with a beautiful, lush, and sweet rose. A perfect dance of florals and spices. The rose is not long-lived, shortly followed by the other main floral component, the frangipani. I would say even more assertive than the rose. Slightly fresh and soapy, with an exotic fruitiness. The bulk of the scent, however, is showcased through the seamless interplay of oud, sandalwood, and various resins, of which myrrh shines with its toffee-like, sweet, and smoky nuances. The oud here has no off-putting tonalities and marries so well with the sandalwood and the resins that it gets lost in the composition, or should I say, blends in. The florals in this perfume were never a major component of my skin. They shine in the opening and the heart only to be consumed by the heavy, rich, dense base. Breaking the scent apart is futile and meaningless. This one is all about the flow. Like streaming water. Every little part goes with the course and plays its role in the bigger scheme. Or a well-conducted orchestra. Coming across such blends in the artisanal realm is not common, to have them put together by someone who is starting their journey into this world, even more so. I believe this perfume will forever be Russian Adam's Magnus Opus. The Crown Jewel of the brand. This is a composition every lover of Oriental perfumes should at least sample once.

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The epic name of this fragrance encloses (on the olfactory sphere) the formidable glory of a superb historical empire. Areej le Dore Ottoman Empire is a vintage musky-resinous rose/jasmine, smokey/rubbery, leathery and saturnine a la By Kilian Pure Oud or several Abdul Samad Al Qurashi oils. A peppery-saffronish harmony of indolic/honeyed floral essences, balsams (probably balsamic copahu balm or cypriol oil), animalic musks, seasoned woods, oakmoss and arcane resins. Rose absolute and agarwood oils represent the olfactory backbone of the olfactory appointment. I detect a sort of rubbery "naphthalenic" vaguely medicinal wave (a kind of boots polish-vibe) provided by the interactions of resins, aromatic woodsy balsams, aromatic spices and oils. While Siberian Musk is more oriented towards a sort of aromatic chypre old school olfactory dimension Ottoman Empire is more properly oudish, resinous and luxurious on a "stuffy-mouldy" opulent orientalist front. This really orientalist opulent fragrance is indeed the essence of the vintage olfactory concept, ideally the aroma swirling around lobbies and lounges of the majestic Topkapi Palace.

It opens with spicy peppers, skanky and furry oud, lush florals. Though smooth and juicy rose is detectable, honeyed and indolic jasmine is prominent among the florals to my nose. Indolic side of jasmine seems to amplify the skankiness of oud. Drydown reminds me of chypres of the past with it's inky, bitter, textured oakmoss and smoky resins. I also appreciate the shapeshifting and kaleidoscopic nature of Ottoman Empire. Everytime I brought my arm to my nose it's shown slight differences. All in all Ottoman Empire is a superb chypre with oriental elements. Solid thumps up from me.

Ottoman Empire is the warmest scent I own. And by warm, I do not mean simply spicy or heated. OE combines delicate roses with the most cozy and plush of ouds, oak moss, and myrrh, and it is this mixture that provides the scent with its utterly smooth and almost comforting profile. It is a deeply contented scent and one that calms and reassures and provides an almost dreamlike state in its wearer. In a very odd way, it reminds me of the deep plushness of vintage L'Heure Bleue. These two smell nothing alike, don't get me wrong, but the state they induce in me is quite similar. Each of these gorgeous fragrances makes me feel as though the world is a wonderful place and that peaceful contemplation is the human's most natural condition. Many scents smell delicious and wonderful to me, but the ones that induce revery and emotional bliss are few and far between. Ottoman Empire is one of these rarities.

Ottoman Empire is as stunning as Siberian Musk, but in a different way. Although I suppose technically it is a rose-oud, containing as it does real Assam oud oil and expensive rose absolutes from Afghanistan, India, and Bulgaria, it does not really come across as a typical rose-oud.

Instead, it reads more as a buttery rose chypre with a dark, mossy drydown that reminds me of the hippy, retro floriental style of Neil Morris, especially his Rose of Kali, which is a rose slowly left to molder and wither in a damp church basement. In other words, there's a fair bit of myrrh here. There is also the chocolate-rich dustiness of closed-up spaces and old books, which makes me think of the 70's style of the original Norma Kamali perfume (not Incense, the namesake perfume itself).

The rose oils used in Ottoman Empire are beautiful, and display a wide range of nuances ranging from the fruity apricot hue of the Afghani rose to the sour earwax quality of the Bulgarian. In the context of the blend, the roses are largely subdued by the resins and oakmoss in the base, but their essentially rosy character burns brightly through the blend, like a heat lamp under layers of parchment.

The oakmoss used here, by the way, is real and unneutered: firstly, because it is Indian oakmoss (charila), a lacy oakmoss-like material covering trees in the forests of the Himalayas, and secondly, because, well, Adam is not based in Europe and doesn't have to be IFRA-compliant.

In summary, then, Ottoman Empire is a waxy, mossy rose chypre crossed with souk perfumery (oud and spices) crossed again with a certain hippy, 1970's style as espoused by certain American indie perfumers. If I've made that sound confusing, then don't worry – the perfume makes perfect sense on the skin. Wear it and see for yourself.

There are lots of notes listed and Ottoman Empire is different almost every time I wear it so there is an unsettling feel about it for me. But I I think it is important to faithfully describe what I smell to give some guidance for others who may be considering purchasing a sample or bottle. As with most artisanal perfumes there are batch variations so I advise sampling before buying.

Ottoman Empire comes down to three basic movements or essential activities that interplay within the scent in a separate but equal way. These are: (1) Rose essence, (2) Saffron attar, (3) Amber/Oud/Myrrh. I combine amber, oud and myrrh because the amber base described as "Crude Amber Resin" to my nose gathers all of the similar qualities of oud, myrrh and dark amber notes unto itself into a thicket of chunky, densely compact amber woods. This Amber base is such a prominent part of the scent that it becomes the essential character of Ottoman Empire, at least to me. I smell the rose at the opening but to smell it after that you must pull back some distance because the rose is so light and ethereal, even though quite beautiful, it is separated from the central theme of the scent like a auric cloud resting gently above the physicality of Ottoman Empire which does battle on firm ground below. Perhaps the rose needs more of a bridge to the saffron attar or amber? The myrrh infused amber has a slight but noticeable oud component and as I described above feels like a thicket of dense brown amber/myrrh/oud.

Then there is the saffron attar. Shooting through the brown thicket of amber darkness are shocks of bright saffron attar. The saffron as an attar is already assembled tightly and strongly bound to other attar ingredients of sandalwood, patchouli, some florals - jasmine, etc.? and stays within its saffron attar identity. This is a good thing as it makes a bold statement and I really like saffron attar. The saffron does not blend with the rose into a rose/saffron like so many saffron rose perfumes accomplish, and while that is a nice note combination, the saffron here retains a saffron attar sharpness and shoots through the density of the amber body of the fragrance with distinct saffron attar precision. It is almost as if thee perfume is an emulsion of parts rather than a blend of notes.

In short this is a 3 part fragrance of (1) amber/myrrh/oud dense resinous mass, along with (2) golden shocks of saffron evenly dispersed throughout, (3) covered in a halo of radiating rose which after the opening does get lost in the outer orbital layer. The three elements keep their separateness allowing the wearer to occasionally find bits of each but maintain their unity through a quantum attraction of sorts. I like Ottoman Empire, but there is something in the fragrance that is awaiting resolution and this keeps me from giving it top marks. It is in the 7 of 10 star category by my taste. I greatly enjoy rose essence, and saffron attar is a favorite, but the amber base is too dense for my taste. The parts do not merge or bridge very well to each other. Overall the perfume is quite an accomplishment and I do like it but it feels like a work in progress to me.