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    Maroke Mysore

    Now a Legend
    Final Bottle Sold
    Available only from private collectors of fine oud oils worldwide

    Shop Future Legends ››

    When you make oud for a living, you get hit with the novelty stick all the time.

    I’ve wanted to do many things with oud. Sometimes I’ve felt like distilling gyrinops in gyokuro. A batch of agallocha soaked with jasmine petals (watch if somebody doesn’t go and do exactly that!)

    I mean, Papuan Sinensis cooked in a porcelain coated platinum pot bubbling with matcha powder sounds like a plan, doesn’t it? But is that art? I ask myself. Is pulling off some novel whackiness in a series of a thousand permutations really a step into the agarwood avant-garde?

    Because I’m a bit of a classicist, a chamomile-crassna fusion would just be me making a statement. I won’t call it pursuing my passion nor would I call it Art……… When you think about it, at what point does a perfumer even get called an artist? What does it take for a perfumer to win the Nobel? Critical acclaim for daring to mix cardamom with jasmine petals?

    Fellini said that perfumery with one ingredient is where things get weird. Ezra dedicated a stanza to Filarian fusions. When asked about nu-perfumery, Borges famously cried out: “Have you smelled Sultan Abdül Aziz!?”

    But hang on, let me backtrack for a second and tell you what happened:

    Ten years ago, we cooked Maroke in a sandalwood distillery.

    Sandalwood’s been my pet love since before Mysore became as barren of wild sandal as Hainan has of wild aloes. For me, doing a sandaloud fusion was something personal; an OCD itch I needed to scratch.

    But here’s the catch: you’re shackled by Fellini, by Floyd, by a fervor not to take the track of art for art’s sake. Infatuated with unearthing a new scent, yet bound by a self-imposed dictum: oud only!

    Art happens when a feeling gets across, Tolstoy said. With Maroke Mysore, I’m excited because I’m amazed. And I know the feeling will get across. If you love oud, get oud, spend hours nose to wrist to the tune of Phillip Glass’ Ode to Oud, I know you’ll be amazed also. 

    A fusion that’s not a fusion. Sandal that’s not oud and oud that’s not sandal. A bottle of sandaloes that stands out in your collection like Stendhal does next to Tolkien. A scent that pays homage to the majesty of two sacred trees in all their vintage glory.

    If Kinam morphing into the velvety goodness of super creamy, super red vintage Mysore was only a dream you never even thought of dreaming, now is the time to experience it as a reality!

    I’ll leave it here. Now, you tell me…… which is it: Maroke or Mysore?

    My first impessions took me back to India to the ayurvedic treatments I got there. But at the same time it’s definitely not a sandalwood oil. Having spent much time in the Amazon forrest, it really reminds me of the smells that are in the small creeks and lakes there. Mossy jungle smell... Very mysterious and fascinating! But the Green Papua was even more pleasing to me! Really masculine on my wrist at least. – Sigmund, Norway

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