It’s been a long time since a new release gave me a frisson of instant joy, longer still since one moved me to write reams of pages upon first sniff. Ensar Oud‘s newest fragrance, EO No 2 parfum, did precisely that. Within moments of spraying, I rushed to dig up a yellow legal pad, my head filled with the story of what the fragrance conjured up, so real that I practically saw the sentences in my head, saw the visions of what the notes evoked. It was a moment of pure olfactory delight, something which has been all too rare for me lately.
The extent to which EO No 2 impacted me was both a surprise and a major relief. If you’ll forgive a personal digression, I’ll explain why. For me, it’s been an exceedingly difficult three months in an equally difficult year and I’ve struggled extensively with both a disinterest in perfumery and in writing, in addition to some other personal issues. In fact, fragrance has provided little interest, comfort, or distraction. Reviewing even less so. I approached analyzing a fragrance with the same enthusiasm I would feel for a root canal. Neither new releases nor my personal old vintage favourites motivated me to put pen to paper. I won’t get into blogging negatives nor the extent to which political events have taxed my psyche, but both were significant factors.
Personal matters were of a more pressing concern, however, such as my beloved Hairy German whose health began to decline in an alarming way a few months ago. I rushed him to a slew of specialists in different fields, then had him undergo a grueling surgery which involved cutting off part of his femur bone, implanting joints and screws, cutting out a tumor, and more. I brought him home from the hospital the next afternoon only to see him experience a near comatose collapse later that evening. It was hell, for me just as much as him, although he’s thankfully recovered since then. (Me, not so much.)
The point: with so much else of genuine weight going on, fragrance lacked meaning for me and was easy to brush aside, because nothing I’ve tried lately excited me, inspired me, or moved me to write until I tried EO No 2. It has been a rare exception: first, it cut through the fog of my stress, fragrance malaise, disinterest in new releases, and political frustration; second, it made me seize a pen and start writing pages upon pages mere moments after sniffing it, which is the first time that’s happened in months; and, finally, it also gave me a moment of unfettered, pure joy where scent was almost more important than whatever other dreadful hellscape was occurring.
So, having explained the context for this review, lets move onto the specifics and then the olfactory description of EO No 2.
FRAGRANCE DETAILS & NOTES:
Ensar Oud released EO No 2 a few weeks ago in pure parfum and eau de parfum concentrations. It is a limited release. From what I’ve been told, the two concentrations share the same list of ingredients and the same formula. The difference is that the pure parfum has a much higher concentration in terms of richness (i.e., less dilution) and also more intense muskiness due to a deer musk tincture which was used as part of the dilution methodology. (More details on that towards the end.) This review is for the pure parfum version.
Ensar Oud created the blend himself, focusing on genuine deer musk as a significant, primary component in the composition. In that regard, it differs from the first sprayable blended fragrance in the line, EO No 1, which emphasized leather in its vintage-skewing, chypre-oriental bouquet. As a side note, I never wrote about that first release because it was simply the sprayable, less concentrated version of the Sultan Leather Attar which I had previously reviewed and liked so much that I put it on my 2017 year-end “Best Of” list. But this latest fragrance, however, EO No 2, is completely new and it has no overlap with any attar, oil, or blend that he has previously done.
If you have concerns about animal cruelty, illegal poaching, or endangered species issues, please know that Ensar Oud used deer musk which was ethically sourced and legally obtained as part of the Russian government’s small annual allotment of Siberian deer which it allows hunters to sell at auction.
In my opinion, EO No 2 should not be seen as a musk soliflore which merely happens to have tiny touches of other things subsumed within. That is not the case. On me, the musk is a large, overt presence, yes, but it is one of several, often co-equal, central elements. Partnering the musk are a slew of notes ranging from roses to leather, oud, sandalwood (four different types!), spices, and resins. Depending on the hour or stage of development, the parfum alternates between a chypre-oriental, floral leather, floral woody musk, a floral leather musk, a woody musk, or a woody ambered musk. I find it to be a nuanced shape-shifter that trips across different fragrance genres, perhaps even more so than Sultan Leather Attar, although I must emphasize that I’ve never tried the latter when diluted and slightly tweaked for its EO No 1 sprayable formulation.
The company’s long official scent description for EO No 2 singles out a few individual notes but does not provide an actual list of ingredients. It does, however, provide a few olfactory descriptive snippets:
Instead of going where all men have gone before, you’re thrown off the beaten track with musk drinking black tea under a canopy of cedar.
Himalayan rose and coriander waltz onto the floor with subtle wafts of rare sambac on top in a primal, peppery scent of steaming bedroom sweat, spent.
Full-grain, veg-tanned Italian calf hide hand-worked by leather legend Habib Dingle to add some proper animalis to the husky heart bulging with civet and spice.
I detect many more elements than the handful referenced above. When testing the fragrance, I was operating blind as to the notes and, based on what appeared on my skin, tentatively guessed that the potential note list might include:
Pink peppercorns, cinnamon, cloves, coriander, rose, bergamot, lime, jasmine sambac, deer musk, styrax, labdanum, Tolu balsam, leather accord (oud, birch tar), cedar, opoponax or sweet myrrh incense, patchouli, civet, and animalis.
I asked Ensar Oud what was in the EO No 2 and he kindly shared the details. The actual note list includes, among other things, the following:
Top: Cumin, French Cedar, Pink Pepper, Rosewood, Basmati Rice, Coriander
Heart: Black Tea, Turkish Rose, Clove, Papuan Sandal, Jasmin Sambac, Himalayan Rose
Base: Siberian Musk, Mysore Sandal, Rockrose Resin [i.e., labdanum resin], Papuan Oud, Timor Sandal, Australian Sandal, African Civet.
It’s quite a different list than what I experienced, noticeably the absence of any citrus component. I couldn’t figure out why I experienced so much citrus and lime on my skin, aromas which clearly go above and beyond mere coriander. (Ensar told me some other people had experienced lime on their skin as well, while a handful got grapefruit instead.) We put our heads together to try to figure out why. After discarding the Papuan Sandal (supposedly very fruity in aroma) as a possibility, we settled on the possible combination of the rosewood (a very citrusy wood) with the coriander.
Other aromas I detected seem to be similar indirect byproducts as well. For example, there is a strong chocolate note through most of EO No 2’s development on my skin. I had guessed it came from patchouli but there is no patchouli in EO No 2, so oud or possibly sandalwood is the more likely source. Oud is also the likely candidate for both the smoky styrax resin and the incense-like notes I experienced, although the one of the sandalwoods may have accentuated it as well.
At the end of the day, however, it’s impossible to determine with any certainty what comes from where. Just know that what I smell, experience, and describe below does not always correlate to the actual ingredients in the fragrance.
THE PARFUM & WHAT IT SMELLS LIKE:
I’m going to eschew my usual hour-by-hour analytical breakdown and instead describe EO No 2 by allegory or metaphor, relying on the story and imagery which popped into my head within moments of sniffing the fragrance.
Once upon a time, there was a princess who slept under an enchanted spell. Her dress was made out of red and green rose petals, their velvety skin coated with the juice, oil, and aromatically fragrant bitter rinds of sour limes and bergamot. Her hair was crowned with a headdress fashioned out of fruity pink peppercorns woven with cloves, cinnamon sticks, and lemony coriander, while her bed was made out of calf-skin leather. Shielding her like a wall of knights was a thicket of climbing rose bushes intertwined with dark cedar and oud. The earth below her was slick with chewy, slightly smoky, leathery, ambered resins, then covered with patchouli pebbles which smelled like dark chocolate.
What caught the eye and the nose, however, was the shimmering aura which lay above and all around the princess, the physical manifestation of the enchanted spell. It was a haze of deer musk, as fleecy and as fluffy as cotton wool clouds in a burnished, orange-pink sky at sunset.
Like a magnet or swirling whirlpool, the enchanted musk absorbed the colours and smells of the roses, sour citruses, dark woods, spices, resins, and earthy chocolate around it, enveloping them and lending them its own texture and aroma. With one spray of perfume, the musk aroma was a mix of clean, dry soil with equally clean, crumbly white woods and heavily spiced sawdust, all lightly covered with a few handfuls of clean fur.
With 2 or 3 sprays from a bottle, however, those handfuls turned into an opulent fur coat scented with a woman’s spicy vintage chypre perfume and the warm musk of her body. It’s a combination which reminds me of vintage Mitsouko in its 1930s/1940s extrait formula where evaporation and concentration over the decades have amplified and accentuated the base notes, resulting in a rose chypre laden with semi-animalic musk, fur, resins, leather, warm skin, and spice. When you apply a large amount of EO No 2, the bouquet not only skews very vintage in feel and whispers of certain Mitsouko-ish elements, but its musk and dark base notes take on almost a tactile textural quality, just as super old vintage Mitsouko parfum does on my skin. It’s a texture which sometimes feels like thick velvet, but sometimes fluffy, snuggly, and soft like the finest cashmere sweater. It’s so lovely that I take long, deep sniffs of my arm with appreciation.
From a distance, the individual details of Sleeping Beauty and her resting place end up folding into a singular, soft, shimmering, and velvety cloud. (It skews more abstract with a light scent application of one spray, while a heavy application of two or more sprays yields a more delineated set of notes.) The bouquet which ripples on the scent trail is a swirl of sour limes, fruity peppercorn, green coriander roses, multi-faceted darkness, black chocolate, and earthy musk, all licked on the sides with soft smoke. Sometimes, the darkness skews towards lightly charred woods; sometimes, it brims with the aroma of styrax or oud, smelling smoky, chewy, and leathery; and every so often, it smells like black, faintly salty, licorice, much like what you find with some kinds of Tolu balsam absolute in its least diluted form.
In our fairy tale allegory, the end of the third year (meaning: hour) and the start of the fourth marks a new phase. The princess’ surroundings change and now radiate a different scent: a rosy-ish, spicy, sweet-sour, woody, smoky, leathery, resinous, chocolate-y, and earthy musk bouquet, painted in large swathes of brown, red, gold, bronze, and black, then inlaid with pink and chocolate curlicues in varying degrees. It’s a bouquet which is significantly spicier, more resinous, and leathery than it was at the start. The musk fluctuates in its prominence: sometimes, it’s a supporting player, letting the various woods, leather, and resins shine on center stage; sometimes, it seizes the limelight for itself instead.
As a whole, the bouquet is polished but, unlike the first three hours where it was purely sophisticated and elegantly dressy in feel, it is now starting to take on more sultry, sexy, and snuggly vibes. In essence, the princess is en déshabillé, her clothes starting to slip off to reveal her dark undergarments and her naked, heated, musky, bronzed skin.
Roughly 5.25 hours in, the bouquet veers between two different scents and points of emphasis. One is dark, earthy musk laced with chocolate, rose, and leathery dark woods; the other is a more complex series of notes where a sour-sweet-citrusy ambered rose is surrounded by her ladies-in-waiting, comprised of leathery musk, deer musk, oud, spicy peppercorns, coriander, cedar, chewy labdanum amber, an incense-y note like nutty sweet myrrh, and patchouli-like chocolate earth. From afar, the scent trailing in the air is different still: a chocolate rose cocooned within an amorphous but plush and wonderfully velvety cloud of citrusy, fruity, spicy, smoky, woody, ambery musk. Whatever the variation, I love it, perhaps because labdanum, chocolate, and patchouli are amongst my favourite notes or perhaps because the combinations are so warm and inviting, beckoning at you with fingers of sweetness, then enveloping you within a cozy, cashmere-like softness.
No prince ever comes to rescue this sleeping princess from her slumber. All that happens as the years pass (ten hours in my scented reality) is that the scenery changes. In the 10th year (read: the 10th hour when the drydown begins), the roses die and disappear, while the woody thicket around the princess grows, spreads, and multiplies, turning into a large forest made up of oud, cedar, and sandalwood. Reams of sandalwood, in fact, none of which is milky or green like Australian santal but which is instead red-black, resinous, chewy, musky, leathery, and smoky, like the sort found in Ensar Oud’s Santal Sultan. Actually, all the trees now smell smoky, tannic, musky, and even occasionally a little like incense. Their dark roots dig into earth composed of dark spices, musk, chocolate, and rivulets of dense, treacly resins.
When taken as a whole, all these elements transform the deer musk into something darker than it was originally. Instead of smelling like clean earth or spiced sawdust, it is now something meatier, spicier, more earthen, and smoky. Interestingly, as the hours pass, it also emits whiffs of earthy mushrooms and a sort of umami aroma, though I have to smell my arm up close to pull it up from the large, strong waves of santal, oud, chocolate, earth, resin, smoke, and peppercorn-coriander-cumin spice.
At the end of our tale, everything fades away and is absorbed into the musk of the enchanted spell. All that is left is a brown haze which is spicy, woody, resinous, chocolate-y, mushroomy, and earthy.
EO No 2’s longevity, projection, and sillage numbers depend on how much I apply. With a single spritz from a bottle, the parfum opens with roughly 2.5 inches of projection and 4 inches of sillage which grows to roughly 6-7 inches after 20 minutes. After 90 minutes, the numbers drop to about 1 to 1.5 inches for projection and about 4 for sillage. It stays that way for hours. In total, it took 9.5 hours for EO No. 2 to turn into a skin scent, though it was clearly detectable if I put my nose on my arm. From start to finish, the fragrance lasted just under 19 hours.
The numbers are significantly higher with a larger scent application. When I applied two or three sprays to the same patch of skin, the opening projection was 4 to 5 inches, but the scent trail extended more than a foot and a half. In fact, it left an actual trail behind me when I went from one room to the next, to the point that a family member detected it when they came over and asked, “what is this amazing smell filling up the corridor and entrance?” For what it’s worth, they took one sniff of my arm, roughly 2 hours into EO No 2’s development and said it reminded them of vintage Mitsouko. With the large scent application, EO No 2 took roughly 13-14 hours to turn into a skin scent. And it was still going strong more than 24 hours later. It was not a wispy, ghostly trace at that point, either. It was a full-on spicy, mushroomy, woody musk. In total, it lasted between 38 and 40 hours. (The range of time I’ve given is because the scent died away on most parts of the large stretch of skin where I had applied it, but not all parts and it lingered in small areas.)
One point which the fairy tale or allegory format didn’t permit me to easily explain at the time is just how much fragrance quantities impacted the scent experience. In fact, I was a little surprised by the degree to which different dosages changed the components of the actual bouquet during the first 3 hours. With a single small spritz (an amount roughly equivalent to 2 light to moderate swipes from a dab sample vial), the roses feel soft, airy, and rather quiet. After 90 minutes, they turn sheer and impressionistic, as though they were rosy-ish rather than truly beefy, hefty, distinct and clearly delineated roses. In fact, the chocolate, lime, coriander, pink peppercorns, deer musk, and musky woods are often more pervasive on my skin. In addition, with a small fragrance dosage, the deer musk skews towards the soft earth and spiced sawdust side instead of smelling like a fur coat laden with vintage chypre parfum. After three hours, the roses become muted, shadowy figures hidden behind an opaque wall of spice, leather, smoky woods, licorice/amber resins, and a chocolate-sawdust-scented musk. The notes are blurry, bleeding into each other in such a way that the end result feels a little like one of Turner’s amorphous, hazy cloud paintings. Lastly, when taken as a whole, the fragrance’s sillage was unexpectedly soft as compared to what happens with two or three sprays.
In contrast, two or more sprays created a more nuanced, complex, and opulent olfactory outcome on my skin, in addition to better note delineation, sillage, body, and heft. I might even argue that the entire character of the scent changes, because it feels strongly retro or vintage during large portions of the first 3 hours. There are a few reasons why. First, the duet of roses and sour lime-bergamot (or whatever is mimicking their aroma) continues to be strong, rich, clearly delineated, and distinctive. In addition, the deer musk skews primarily towards a fur coat scent, thereby giving me those occasional flashbacks to really aged vintage Mitsouko when combined with the quasi-chyprish rose and base notes. Because of the strength of the rose, citrus, and fur coat musk, the chocolate felt quite muted during this phase. Finally, the smoky, leathery, licorice-y, woody, resinous, earthy, and oud-ish elements felt harmoniously integrated as co-equal pieces of a larger or more panoramic landscape, rather than leading the charge as they sometimes did with a one spray amount.
The differences may simply be a function of my particular skin chemistry. Maybe my skin simply requires a larger scent application to show off top notes prominently when the base ones are so powerful or dark?
Regardless of quantity, however, I want to stress that both versions end up in the same olfactory place after the end of the third hour, which is when the heart phase begins, even if their sillage, power, and note delineation or clarity continue to be quite different. Purely on an olfactory basis, the differences largely fade away, the two versions dovetail into a uniform whole from the heart stage onwards, and the scent then develops and smells as I’ve described in the story.
PARFUM vs. EDP, PACKAGING, SAMPLES, GENDER CLASSIFICATION & OTHER REVIEWS:
I would like to briefly discuss the eau de parfum version. As I mentioned at the start of this review, the two concentrations have the same notes and formula. However, from what I’ve been told, the eau de parfum is milder, less powerful, and much less musky than the pure parfum. Ensar Oud explained it to me as follows: “The EDP and Parfum are identical in composition, with the sole difference in that a good part of the ethanol the Parfum is diluted in is proper deer musk tincture, whereas in the EDP it’s just plain ethanol.” In other words, not only does the eau de parfum have more ethanol to dilute its concentration, but it also lacks that extra element of a deer musk tincture that the parfum has. It’s been diluted solely with basic, unadulterated ethanol.
Power is apparently another difference. Ensar Oud explains on his website:
Some like their perfume strong, others prefer ’em mild. To accommodate both tastes, we’re offering two concentrations: Eau de Parfum and Pure Parfum. The Pure Parfum comes in a bottom covered leather case, while the EDP comes in the clear bottom edition, both in the new EO black box!
While I haven’t tried the EDP, I can tell you that the Parfum is an absolute monster by all performance criteria when you apply 2 or more sprays. Powerhouse par excellence.
As Ensar’s quote above mentions, there are minor packaging differences in the hand-sewn Italian leather casing for the two versions. The EDP’s casing has no leather on the bottom, so you can see the bottle’s glass.
The major difference between the two concentrations is price. The Pure Parfum is, as you might expect, a lot more expensive. It is $795 for a 50 ml bottle as opposed to $395 for the EDP. Neither one is cheap, but keep in mind that you get what you pay for. I’m not talking simply about the heavier, richer concentration; I’m also talking about the prices generally for something with large quantities of these particular high-end raw materials. To experience everything from aged, vintage agarwood oil to several different kinds of real sandalwood and, of course, the rarest of them all, Siberian deer musk, you’re going to have to shell out some money. Such scents will never be as affordable as those sold by big designers or the large niche houses, both of which frequently use large quantities of inexpensive aromachemicals in addition to having the benefit of economies of scale in production costs. As for the big niche luxury houses, well, these prices are certainly lower than what Roja Dove charges for many of his extraits or eau de parfums.
Having said that, I won’t lie to you: I could never afford to buy a bottle of the parfum. Not with my vet bills. (I’m not exaggerating when I say that the blood drained from my face and I actually felt a bit light-headed when I saw the final bill for The Hairy German Fluffy Bunny’s operation and hospital stay.) But would I buy a bottle for myself if I hadn’t been sent one by the company and if I had disposable income for scent indulgences? Yes, absolutely.
Ensar Oud does not normally sell samples of EO No 2 but, as a special favour to me and my readers, he’s offering a sample of the Pure Parfum. That way, you can test it before you commit to a big expenditure. I’m someone who insists on testing fragrances before shelling out money and, unless you’re a hardcore Ensar Oud fan, I think most people would feel the same way at the prices we’re talking about here, so I extend my thanks for his thoughtfulness and understanding.
In terms of the gender classification issue, regular readers probably know by now that I think it’s a highly subjective matter that depends on an individual’s personal style, the notes they love, their comfort level with certain materials, and other variables, including how a fragrance will smell on your skin as compared to someone else. Having said that, if EO No 2 presents itself on you as it did on me, I think most people would find it to be unisex, even if some of its elements do skew a little more to the masculine side.
However, if you’re a women who is not comfortable with dark woods, dark spices, balsamic resins, musky oud, or leather, then you may feel that the balance of notes falls completely on the “masculine” side of the spectrum.
Regardless of your gender, if you prefer your musk to smell like the sort of ubiquitous fresh, clean, Bounce dryer sheets, or sugary musk that one finds in mainstream and some niche fragrances, then EO No 2 is not for you, no matter where the scent might fall on the unisex-to-masculine spectrum. Although the deer musk and accompanying touches of animalics here do not amount to anything animalic, skanky, redolent of “Ho Panties,” barnyard, or the like, it is unquestionably a dark, earthy, sometimes furry or mushroomy musk rather than anything laundry clean, soapy, or sugary. (Thank God, if you ask me.)
In terms of other reviews or perspectives, you can find a number of comments on Ensar Oud’s website. (Though he has a Fragrantica section, it only has a few entries and EO No 2 is not listed at the time of this review.) The website comments are positive, and I’ll quote chunks of some of them for you to get a general idea of other people’s scent experiences, then leave you to read everything in full on your own later if you should be so interested. To be helpful, I’ve included one review for the EDP version as well:
- “I received my EO No 2 parfum edition today. Been wearing it all day and I adore this gem. I also own Russian Musk and Inverno Russo, which are also truly exceptional fragrances, but this one smells completely different with no overlap. The EO No 2 is a very sophisticated, rich and mesmerizing journey.” [Emphasis to perfume names added by me.]
- “How intoxicating! The power behind just one spray of the EDP. Such an elegant fragrance. It’s as if I was transported back in time to the 1920’s and invited to a gentleman’s cigar lounge. The mixture of barbershop aftershave and suede leather. The lingering of pepper, clove, and lime in the air as I move about. The clouds of pipe tobacco that softly float in the air. The inviting warmth of bitter chocolate offered up with rye whiskey hidden under all the soft whispers of the scents before. This is a fragrance I don’t think I could ever get tired of. And the surprise on the inside!!!! How unique! I think it will only add to the uniqueness and the fragrance profile for years to come.”
- “I applied the smallest drop from the bottle to my wrist fearfully expecting a pungent scent of the musc to overwhelm me. When I raise my wrist, to my surprise I am greeted with the most amazing fragrance! […] Warm spices, peppercorns and cloves to begin which fades into the background quite quickly to reveal the underlying musc which is intertwined with a rose that gives a musky sweet pipe tobacco vibe… absolutely magnificent and intoxicatingly beautiful.”
- “EO 2 is simply amazing!!! Nothing like any parfum I’ve tried or owned. It smells so green and fresh at first. It’s got this undertone of musk but not overpowering. It lasted almost two days on my t-shirt. My wife who isn’t a huge fan of overbearing fragrances actually loved it. I love it… simply put!! […] It’s simply an amazing fragrance.”
OTHER FRAGRANCES & HOW THEY COMPARE:
Speaking of Areej Le Doré’s musk fragrances, Russian Musk and Inverno Russo, I completely agree with the commentator quoted up above (Peter from Sweden) that there is no fragrance overlap at all. EO No 2 does not smell like either Areej fragrance. Not even slightly.
Nor does it smell anything like Areej’s Siberian Musk, in my opinion. EO No 2 is a very different animal. There are a few reasons why: EO No 2 doesn’t have such a wide range and heavy concentration of florals as Siberian Musk (which had powerful, distinct, and large amounts of jasmine, orange blossom, and frangipani); EO No 2 is only briefly a vintage-style chypre or chypre-oriental in its long lifespan and then it segues into other perfume genres or families; its musk smells denser, darker, meatier, and earthier; its oud and santals smell completely different and/or have different nuances; the leather is much more pervasive; and there is that repeated, strong “chocolate” note which appears on my skin instead of SM’s aromatic, slightly chilly pine. In terms of performance, however, EO No 2 is similar to Siberian Musk, except it might be even more powerful at commensurate two spray dosages.
While I’m making fragrance comparisons, I must say that I don’t find a huge degree of olfactory overlap with Ensar Oud’s Sultan Leather attar, either. (That was the basis for EO No 1.) Sure, both compositions have roses, leather, oud, spices, amber resins, and sandalwood, but the proportions are very different and there is the critical, dispositive difference of the deer musk. The sort of muskiness which is innate to some types or varietals of oud are nothing like the aroma of deer musk, and deer musk is a driving force in EO No 2, even if it’s co-equal partners with some other elements. On top of all that, Sultan Leather had a significant frankincense aroma at one stage and radiated “High Mass” or “High Church,” as well as all its concomitant soapy aspects on my skin. I’m not particularly enamoured by frankincense (and I’m not an admirer of soap in any shape, size, or form in perfumery), so the strength of that element was the big downside in the fragrance for me personally, no matter how much I liked it otherwise. There is no such issue here with EO No 2, indeed no frankincense whatsoever, which is one reason why I respond to this fragrance even more than I did to Sultan Leather.
I’m not going to tax your patience further with a lengthy conclusion and will simply say that, if your tastes overlap with mine or if you love dark musk fragrances, then I hope you’ll try EO No 2. I realize it’s not ideal that the first fragrance I’ve reviewed positively in months is so expensive and therefore out of range for every reader, and I really wish that were not the case, but this was the first new release in ages to trigger an instant world in my head, a story in my mind, colours before my eyes, and words gushing like a waterfall on paper. For me, it’s just a heck of a fragrance.
Disclosure: My bottle was provided courtesy of the company. That did not impact this review. I do not do paid reviews, and my opinions are my own.