Scent-wise, Oud Mostafa VII is the true successor to the original Oud Mostafa. A return to the vigor and quality of No 1… this time, with a new-school Senkohfied twist.
An insane wild hybrid of Karbi Anglong and Southern Chinese agarwood unites in an oil that’s loud without the barn, spicy without fermentation twang, and richly layered every bit as much as the original Mostafa.
My focus was not on capturing the scent of gently heated agarwood chips, nor amplifying, auxiliarifying, or even transcending the inherent scent of the wood. Although the scent is more than a clean-cut snapshot of slow-burn aloes; that wasn’t the point.
The slightest tinge of bitter orange, a true-to-Sinensis deermusk zest, or its Aku Akirean ground pepper, buchu-infused rooibos and cannabis (or thyme-like) herbaciousness. These add to its kaori-cha doused with freshly crushed cacao aroma to make it instantly primal, borderline sweet – but never fruity. It means a tiny dab packs a punch, yet wear it to work with confidence; to prayer, elated.
Totally devoid of the acrid nutmeg nuttiness characteristic of ouds of similar terroir which often sabotages their primordial pull and makes such oils way too ‘made-in-a-cinnamon-distillery’ smelling. In No 7, the ancient factor hits you full force. No cashews – or pears – or flowers.
My goal was not to create the most complex aroma in oud history, nor a single note fraction. Oud Mostafa VII isn’t about pipes and pots, soak or bespoke. It’s Dhikr. Zen. A scent to wear to taraweeh as a whiff sends you back millennia in a second. Standing, back in time, as we stand today. Reminisce.
Nothing quite reminds you of the sands of Madina, the reed mats beneath the stars, dates with milk, the way oud like this does.
Today was my first day of filming, and I spent it thoroughly enjoying Mostafa VII on my wrists and sideburns. What a marvelously complex and dichotomous oil! Deeply rugged, yet utterly refined. Incredible power tempered by timeless wisdom and finesse. I imagine that Ensar would not name an oil Mostafa lightly. After today, it became abundantly clear why this oil deserves its place in that exalted lineage. – Kim, USA
Mostafa VII has no horizon, it is only here. He does not look away: he brings him back to his source, which is below. It is a demanding fragrance that launches the solemn challenge of being loved in the heart of all appearances. A fragrance that does not let lightly, but that calls you with strength.
I have the image of a candied cherry in black gold that opens like the caress of a chocolate My Darling. A roundness, that of a polished stone with a satin surface, on which one would see a pale and bluish reflection: that of an invisible Moon. You will not find any other light here than this reflection of the Moon, as we see in the wells. No other refuge in this perfume than the caramel consistency of an offering of smoke that flows in power. The incense of an ancient people, whose wisdom is forgotten, which embraces you with its thick silence, like a weight that sends down and like a supportive ground, in a setting of Night that brings you back to Self. A note of ashes or grilled nuts transports you to the depths of a forest that is reborn from the ravages of a fire of faith.
If the oldest oak in the world hid in his heart a sex erected and revered by the foam of the centuries, he would have this perfume. – Antonin, France
Ultra complex. Vertically and horizontally. Each time I would approach the swiped area a different facet jumped out. It is Chinese. It is Indian. It is barny. It is medicinal. It is both. Yet not on every whiff. There is a unique lotus flower note. The wood here smells long soaked and slightly fermented to my nose. Leather is there, so is fruit-laced tobacco. Touch of sour fruit. Powerful beast but so layered and nuanced. This is evidently a super oil. It is not for me but classic Hindi fans and general Chinese oil lovers will absolutely love this. This oil demands your respect. – Rasoul, Canada
It has a very powerful energy of «calming in a long breath», a breath that comes from the bottom of the body, connected to Earth and the mysterious essence of Being. Mental agitation cools down and Space comes back in all its density, in a musical and meditative silence, ideal to «make a little dream» awaken, thinking of the day, of love, of your existence, letting the important things feed the soul, and the useless things go away. – A.C., France
A warming oud. The primeval and earthy opening flash has a grounding oily feel; a kind of seedy oil, not nutty. Then, amongst other spicy notes, a faint note of white peppercorn. There is a prominent smell of pheromonal musk which is arousing. Together with notes of dried tangerine peel, the heart of this oud shares Chinese characteristics. The complex dry down is exhilarating, with the prominence of citrus zest bitterness shining against the resinous incense background. A grand oud of yesteryear. – Kenny, UK
Mostafa n’a pas d’horizon, il n’est qu’Ici. Il ne porte pas le regard au loin: il le ramène à sa source, qui est en bas.
C’est un parfum exigeant qui lance le défi solennel d’être aimé au coeur de toutes les apparences. Un parfum qui ne se laisse pas porter à la légère, mais qui vous appelle avec force.
J’ai l’image d’une cerise confite en or noir qui s’ouvre comme la caresse d’un chocolat Mon Chéri. Une rondeur, celle d’une pierre polie à la surface satinée, sur laquelle on verrait un reflet pâle et bleuté: celui d’une Lune invisible. Vous ne trouverez pas d’autre lumière ici que ce reflet de Lune, comme on en voit dans les puits. Pas d’autre refuge en ce parfum que la consistance *caramélique* d’une offrande de fumée qui s’écoule en puissance. L’encens d’un peuple ancien, à la sagesse oubliée, qui vous étreint de son silence épais, comme un poids qui fait descendre et comme un sol qui soutien, dans un écrin de Nuit qui ramène à Soi. Une note de cendre, ou de noix grillée, vous transporte au fin fond d’une forêt qui renaît des ravages d’un incendie de foi.
Si le plus vieux chêne du monde cachait en son coeur un sexe érigé et révéré par la mousse des siècles, il aurait ce parfum. – Antonin, France