War and Peace II
Areej le Doré (2020)

I feel pretty lucky to have found a sample to buy of War and Peace II, even if when I first sprayed it, my cat hit the ground as though a predator were lurking, and I realized I had made a terrible mistake as I was about to go out to a social event in a confined space. That time, I had to scrub it, ruefully. The second time, I sprayed it on a tester, but still got just enough droplets on the side of my fingers for it to register fully. (Indeed, to spray something near oneself and get that potent trace may be the ideal application.) It is like wearing a fossil. Or like stumbling on a petroglyph of a springing wildcat in a fragrant desert mountainscape where coyotes had met to sing in chorus the night before, marking territory as they left. It is an ode to animal glands, to resin, and to moss; hormones, time caught in amber, botanical life low to the earth and to rocks. But in that glancing spray on my hand, the rose is blooming. Something powdery is rising. An hour after application, it is almost a pretty scent.

War and Peace Part II from Areej le Dore. Not a perfume, but rather a time machine. Much like its sibling and my other favorite from the 5th collection, Antiquity. These two are irreplaceable for me, and depending on the mood, either could rank as the number one ALD composition ever and certainly among my favorite perfumes to date.

War and Peace is an example of heavy, dark, and boundary-pushing perfumery where the artistic vision is taken to the extreme while making use of amazing ingredients and expert craftsmanship. The perfume is composed only of heavy base materials, therefore, don't hold your breath for those sparkling citruses and aldehydes in the opening or the delicate heart notes. It goes straight to the meat and potatoes. It's not even worth breaking down this perfume because, with War and Peace, it's ALL ABOUT the overall accord. It should be patented as the "War and Peace" accord. The medieval menu. How does this accord smell? The opening is powdery, a tinge ashy, and fleeting. I like describing it as a "gunpowder accord". After the initial burst clears off, the sweet, smoky leather kicks in, backed up by creamy orris, sweet patchouli, gloriously smoky fossil amber, and a shy rose trying to compete with the big boys. The more it settles down the skin, the more the animalics and the amber fossil come forth. The civet growls louder and louder, accompanied by the musk, the castoreum, and the ambergris, ultimately dominating among them. It lasts forever, as expected, converging toward this animal-hide-like leather accord with the glowing, smoky, sweet amber fossil always holding tight to the animalic core. It brings forth images of places and things I've experienced in real life or imagine would smell like this. Old Medieval castle halls and chambers, a hunter's trophy room full of animal skins hanging from the walls, old antique shops or apothecaries. Dark, old world, unsettling.

A compelling composition that defies the norms of perfumery. You wear this in public at your own risk. I never had the guts to spray it more than twice while around people. I'm planning on doing a social experiment at a future metal concert. I'm sure it'll blend in just fine.

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