Sahara Noir

By the editors · 2 min readSahara Noir opens with a blast of raw labdanum—sticky, leathery, almost medicinal in its intensity. This is no polite amber; it's resinous and dense, announcing itself immediately before frankincense and cinnamon begin threading through with incense smoke. The effect is less Middle Eastern souk than a dimly lit chamber where spices have stained the walls.

As it settles, rose and jasmine appear, but they're nearly buried under the weight of the resins. The florals don't brighten the composition so much as add a faint sweetness to the smoke. Oud and cedar provide a woody backbone, while vanilla and benzoin gradually soften the edges without ever making this comfortable.

The result feels deliberately heavy, almost oppressive—a perfume that demands cool weather and confidence. It's built for evening, for those who find lighter orientals too tame and want something that clings and lingers without apology.