A proper blast of orthodox Hindi oud. Wild horses, pastures and summer sun. Imagine all those unsuspecting others around you whose noses will be assaulted by this burst of spiced-up boiled nectar, drenched in crushed wildflowers, bedazzled by the fruity-or-what-is-that? aroma wafting in waves of fragrant warmth.
Six months from now, Oud Musa will have aged a decade. The trees it was distilled from, 80+ years old. Nagaland. The first of its kind, capped and locked up when oud was barely a whisper in the West. This is the ‘traditional’ smell that’s been the claim to fame of every mainstream oud perfume. That they shamefully failed to capture even a hundredth of Musa’s rustic leather-saddle cowboy suave leaves you wondering about the real deal.
If you’ve had your fill of metrosexual Hindis and crave the primal call of old-school out-in-the-wild agallocha, Oud Musa is the scent of horseback, open air, the free-flow warm wind through your hair of yesteryear.
Oud has become so pasteurized and homogenized, you hardly recognize it. Bleached. Stripped with harsh chemicals. Rather than energize it, mainstream fakery has all but castrated the dead-on oomph of old oud—that dried-fruit, tobacco-heavy, bear-fur feel of a proper Hindi. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, Oud Musa’s got a lot to tell you. If you do get it, and share my nostalgia—this is your oud.
Absolutely a manly Hindi. Leaves a boot print in the dirt. A tad rustic, but “wild” without being “jungly”.
To my nose: The opening is a fermented aqueous leather, with a mild, zesty orange medicinal note floating overhead. The orange note then takes a lift to the scaffold, while the counterweight pulls the leather note down a floor or two, exposing it’s Naga sweetness. For an encore: sweetness takes a bow, lingering, but not forgotten: exit stage right, enter tobacco. – Stefan, Canada