Sometimes you hit if off badly when you’re first introduced to someone — not through any fault of your own or of the other party, it’s just that the wrong foot is put forward, the handshake is cut off too early, you spill soup on your tie at lunch, etc. or whatever.
This was kind of my experience with L’Air de Desert Marocain. The very first time I tested it out, I applied too much and I felt like I was buried alive in a cedarwood coffin — the smell was overwhelming, sharp, stabbing, awful. I never wanted to touch it again.
But then, several people whose opinion I respect said I might want to give it a second chance. They suggested that 1.) I don’t put it near the face — no neck or shoulders or chest; and 2.) I apply it sparingly — very, very sparingly. Check, and check.
Test #2: the stabbing, suffocating cedar from my first attempt was replaced with a scent character that was drier and less harsh, and the other layers involved — the vanilla, the flowers, the dusty incense — broke through. It was an entirely different, and much more pleasant, experience than the first go-round, but while I could recognize that it was a well-crafted piece of work, it still didn’t inspire me to purchase a bottle.
Fast forward to Test #3: this stuff is beautiful. It’s moody and languid, woodsy and sweet, subtle and oh so dry, and I can’t believe that it took me almost eight months to finally get around to appreciating such a fantastic piece of craftsmanship, but that’s sometimes the way it goes — like those paintings you have to stare at, and stare at, and stare at until finally they give up the goods and the hidden picture emerges.
Listen: if a soft cedarwood and amber fragrance with a dry vermouth backspin sounds like it might be your cup of tea, then by all means, take L’Air du Desert Marocain for a test drive. I think you’ll be glad you did. I’m finally at the point myself where ordering a bottle of it sounds like a really good idea, and my one regret is the amount of time I’ve spent denying myself the option of reaching for it on a daily basis.
Now excuse me while I turn off my phone, curl up on the sofa and contemplate pure olfactory beauty. L’Air du Desert Marocain’s olfactory beauty, silly — not the sofa’s.
***This review was revised on January 30th, 2009
UPDATE:
Some photos of the bottle below:
