Some ouds smell exactly like pre-distilled raw agarwood—the ambient aroma captured in oil. Some smell like the same wood when heated. Whatever the case, you don’t smell extras. But in Bliss du Boche you smell that agarwoody kernel…… and then some.
This oud is all about extras—auxiliary notes, accessory notes, whatever you wanna call 'em. We didn't aim to capture the scent of the bare resin, nor were we out to catch the scent of a specific species (crassna, or anything else).
Because we weren’t chasing a single, raw-aloes aroma (or any one species) but a posy of floral-fruit dangling, dripping from the profile, neither did we limit you to only one area…
Like a bouquet is made up of blues and greens and yellows, roses next to gardenias, so too we distilled different batches of Cambodian agarwood from all over the country—spending weeks driving East to West, up and down and back to collect the different harvests and sort them to remain relatively unsorted. Yep, you’ve even got a motley crew of varying resin strains… essential to running a pure auxiliary-distillation that gives you these prismatic floral tones, rounded off with just the right amount of fruity zest.
All these different batches of agarwood marinated in local groundwater in copper for one night, pre-distillation, then cooked in the same copper for days and days. That alone could add enough accessories to the brew to crank open delicious facets to Cambodian oud you wouldn’t smell in ‘naked’ intrinsic distillations.
But then comes the physical setup, the timing, the temp, and what happens when the lid is lifted and the vapor settled (post-distillation curing techniques can make or break an oud). All of it plays with the intrinsic scent of the resin, morphs it, and for many—improves it.
In contrast to ‘intrinsic’ or oleoresin-focused ouds, many reduce aux ouds to ‘playfulness,’ i.e. lesser ouds… and by extension lacking in what higher-grade ouds give you. There’s truth to that because many of them are very young plantation distillations. But Bliss du Boche is in a different league that packs 100% wild Cambodian aloes with all the depth, complexity, steady progression that makes a solid oud oil; a new-school Cambodi that’s fresh on the fringes, and biting-raw at its Cambodian core.
On top of the robustness of the aroma, the integrity of the scent (how the heart of the fragrance remains intact down through the drydown), the artisanal execution of the distillation, you'll delight in rich fruity chords, spiced molasses, violet leaf and lilac, a soft chai creaminess…
Bitter-milky, like the raw flesh of a Cambodian agarwood branch, unheated. Reminiscent of Zazen’s sharp medicinal red but drenched in the orange citrus funk of Joy de Boche. This combo of creamy-tart reifies the spirit of auxiliaries—how else… where else in the world of aromatics could you bathe in notes of condensed milk mashed with the red xīguā juice that makes your brow go Dwayne Johnson, thinking: ‘you sure this ain’t Guallam?’ Doesn’t happen in the finest rose or far-flung jasmine… this assortment of extras/accessories/auxiliaries which, let’s face it, you probably crave more often than the straight-up scent of resin.
Bliss du Boche is so exotic it demands to be worn. If you’re on the fence about your first oud and missed out on Joy de Boche—buy a bottle of this. For veteran oudheads, it’s a feast of an oud, as rich and layered an oud as you could wish for. And maybe more than anything, it’s a total pleasure to wear. Fruity enough for the office, lush with flowers for more intimate rendezvous, and just the right amount of that intrinsic otherworldly agar-call-it-bitter-core to satisfy your craving for a perfume that’s more than just a smell.