Some of you have asked about the smell profile, here I will share some of the impressions that we received from clients who did manage to get a bottle and who have agreed for us to post their impressions here;
Before we applied Lam’ah we heated some green kyara and enjoyed it for about half an hour before opening the oil. The kyara wood went through a number of stages- from clear mountain air, to pillow-y, billowey clouds, to cream, powder, and balsamic resin. Although the transition was predominantly linear, there were moments in its later stages when some of the diamond-fine opening notes reappeared. The oil followed an almost identical procession. Knowing that there was less than 25% of kyara used in the distillation, I was surprised by the distinctness and purity of the opening kyara scent. There were seconds when it floated between the silver icicle ping of a triangle and burgundy viola notes, but that singular kyara grace and clarity were as apparent and dynamic in the oil as they were in the wood.
It took a while before Lam'ah transitioned to a more balsamic stage (as the wood did, too). At that point I wondered if the “kyara stage” was finished, and the scent of Vietnamese agarwood was about to take over. But the scent of the oil continued to mirror and parallel the fragrance of the heating, shimmering wood, and only a faint, vanillic welcome seemed a nod from the agarwood direction. I can’t figure out what role the Vietnamese agarwood plays in Lam'ah. If I had been told that the oil was distilled solely from kyara I don’t think I would have doubted it.
There’s been a lot of discussion of what notes constitute oud and although we might label them differently we know what they smell like. I could not smell those notes in Lam’ah! To me it’s essence- head to toe and across its wingspan- is kinam. Maybe I will be more discerning the next time I smell it, or maybe the agarwood notes meld so well with the kynam notes that the agarwood's own identity is obscured by the scintillating whistle and balsamic heartbeat of its ancient still-mate.
Earlier that afternoon a friend described a fragrance he had been smelling as “home”. I felt the same way about Lam’ah. I felt no desire or need to intellectually decipher all it’s twist and turns, or to try to label its glimmering facets. I was completely and absorbedly content to just smell it. To smell it, smile, and smell it again. Once in a while I picked up the Subitism, for the fun of comparing the oil with the still heating wood, but then I’d cozy back up to Lam’ah and fall into its heavenward journey. It smells beautiful and it smells complete. It made me feel happy. It made me feel relaxed. Sometimes I felt incredulous. Always I felt blessed. I never thought I would ever smell an oil that smells like kynam.
But now I have.