Tuba Attar
Areej le Doré (2022)

Now this one will be a surprise to anyone used to tuberose in the commercial perfume context. In traditional Western perfumery, tuberose tends to be one of those white floral notes you either love or hate. I, um, have my issues with it. It is just so strong and sweet, with this overlay of bubblegum, melted butter, candy, and cream that tends to suffocate. It is just not my style. It smells aged and ladies-who-lunch-ish and hotel lobby-ish. There is a handful of tuberose perfumes that I love, but these have to be either so odd that its psychotic quirks suddenly become playful rather than annoying (Daphne by Comme des Garcons) or so green and medicinal that it tips over into bitterness (the opening of Carnal Flower, Tubéreuse Criminelle).

But Tuba doesn’t smell like any of these iterations, let alone anywhere near the big classical, shoulder-padded versions that haunt my nightmares. The opening is earthy but delicate – small tart green leaves, clay, an earthy Rooibos tea, and mint, all suspended like mist droplets in a curtain of camphor. It smells dun-colored rather than the hot pink synesthesically associated with tuberose. In fact, it is less flower than a newly opened jar of that Borghese Advanced Fango Active Purifying Mud, full of Siberian ginseng root and chaga mushroom extract. Earthy, quasi-medicinal smelling things like this give me far more pleasure than a bouquet of flowers.

Yet, there is also a small but still clearly tuberose character in all of this, which I find extraordinary. It is as if someone took the freshest, softest leaves at the center of Carnal Flower’s evergreen box hedge opening and washed them in this creamy greige mud until soft, limp, and almost denuded of color. Leaning savory rather than sweet, the slow fade into the equally savory sandalwood gives the impression of a barely set bread pudding, its layers wobbly to the point of collapse, flavored with miso paste rather than vanilla. Tuberose must be tenacious even in attar form because Tuba takes more than two hours to disappear entirely into the sandalwood base. Color me charmed.

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.