Maai

Strap in, because Bogue Profumo’s *MAAI* isn’t just a fragrance—it’s a goddamn olfactory apocalypse, a chypre so ferociously majestic it could make a panther bow down and pledge allegiance. This is the scent of legends, the kind of perfume that doesn’t just walk into a room—it *claims* the room, the building, and the whole damn block. I swear it’s one of the best things I’ve ever smelled in my life, a fragrance so profound it speaks to souls like my friend’s mother, an 80-something Manhattan society doyenne from the Upper East Side, dripping with culture and wisdom from a life of voracious reading and refined taste. Let me rip into why this is an effulgent, earth-shaking masterpiece. From the first spritz, *MAAI* doesn’t tiptoe—it roars. Those original 2014-2019 batches? They were a mossy, ambery, animalic juggernaut, like a velvet-clad barbarian storming a baroque palace. I went through 5 bottles. The tuberose, rose, jasmine, and ylang ylang come out swinging, a floral quartet so lush and indolic it’s practically NSFW. This isn’t some polite bouquet; it’s a jungle of white flowers dripping with honeyed nectar, their petals bruised with a dark, narcotic edge that grabs me by the scented soul and doesn’t let go. The tuberose alone is a buxom diva with a femme fatale switchblade, creamy yet feral, while the rose and jasmine weave in a sultry, almost gothic romance. Ylang ylang adds a tropical, banana-like decadence that makes me feel like I’m sipping rum in a moonlit opium den. I’m drunk and high on this. But the real magic—the part that makes *MAAI* a chypre for the ages—is that mossy, animalic growl. Those early batches were drenched in oakmoss, not the polite, neutered stuff of modern perfumery but a deep, inky, forest-floor stanky mossiness that’s like inhaling the earth after a storm. Luca Turin, the perfume world’s sharpest tongue, called *MAAI* a “full-on animalic chypre” with a “glorious, radiant darkness,” and he’s not wrong. The civet, castoreum, and hyraceum in those original batches were like a pack of wild beasts prowling through the scent, their musky, leathery, slightly skanky edge giving *MAAI* a primal, almost dangerous allure. It’s the olfactory equivalent of a black leather jacket worn by a poet who’s just walked out of a brawl. Now those of you who are worried about reformations, take heart. I have two bottles from 2020 to 2022. They are quite similar to the originals —just dialed down. Then there’s the dried fruits and sandalwood, which add a layer of chewy, resinous warmth—like biting into a fig soaked in spiced rum, with creamy sandalwood smoothing the edges but never taming the beast. Kafkaesque, that oracle of fragrance obsession, raved about *MAAI*’s “baroque richness” and its ability to evoke “a lost era of perfumery,” and damn if that doesn’t hit the nail on the head. This is a scent that feels like it was ripped from the 1970s, when chypres were bold, unapologetic, and dripping with character. The newer batches, while slightly less growly, still carry that same DNA—they’re like the original’s sophisticated younger sibling, still wild but with a touch more polish, letting the florals and amber shine a bit brighter without losing the soul. And they still last for an eternity. *MAAI* is exotic, earthy, woody, and dark, but it’s also transcendent, like a love letter to the golden age of perfumery written in blood and gold. It’s not for everyone—thank God. This is a scent for the initiated, for those like my friend’s mother, who’ve lived, loved, and read deeply enough to appreciate its complexity. It’s for the cultured, the bold, the ones who don’t just wear a fragrance but wield it like a weapon of charisma. Antonio Gardoni didn’t just create *MAAI*—he unleashed it, a chypre so effulgent it could light up the night sky or burn it down, depending on its mood. When I spritz this on, I’m not just wearing a scent—I’m channeling a force of nature. Bow down, mortals, *MAAI* is king.

Hm, how to begin? I’ll start from the end - this piece is, in my opinion, an absolut masterpiece. It belongs among the most unusual in my collection and not only there: generally speaking, it’s one of the most unusual things I’ve ever had under my nose, and I believe also one of the most unusual I will ever have under my nose. For fragrance enthusiasts it’s an absolute must and for laypeople best avoided by a wide margin. I believe that more than 95% of people are unable to appreciate what this is and to understand why anyone would create such a fragrance and even less why anyone would wear it. Wear it, build your outfit and attitude around it, and I guarantee that to strangers who encounter it, you’ll be a complete enigma. The unspoken question will be: “Who the hell is that? What kind of person wears this?” Is it nice? No, it is not nice in the traditional sense. This is not made to please. But it is absolutely beautiful in unconventional way. It is extraordinary... and breathtaking, aggressive, provocative, sensual, expressive, dominant. This is not a fragrance you wear simply because you like it. You wear it like a second outfit - to make a point or to achieve something. And the message it sends is delivered with absolute authority and self-assurance. This fragrance is uncompromising and stern. Yesterday I wore it for about half a day (outdoors, around 2 °C above freezing). A friend I was out in nature with told me he could smell me from far away. I asked him how the scent felt to him. The only thing he said was, “uhm... hmm... I’m not very good whit this, I don’t like it.” I told him - exactly. This is worn with the awareness that 95% of people won’t like it. It’s meant to disturb, to unsettle. But not in a repulsive way - once again, the scent is beautiful in its own way. And in what it is, it represents for me the absolute pinnacle of the pyramid. In the same vein, I would also like to draw attention to Salome by Papillon Artisan Perfumes, though its expression is far gentler in this sence. I’m deeply grateful to have encountered this work, to hold it in my collection, and above all, to wear it. Longevity: eternal Sillage: enormous Gender: awakened I don’t know whether my opinion will help you decide if you’re considering a blind buy, but know this: this is something extraordinary and you may need to learn how to wear it and how to love it. But once that happens, nothing in life will stand in your way.

Maai was launched in June 2014 and features a vintage aspect of the strong and masculine colognes of yesteryear. If the bearded man of this decade learned to like sweet and oriental scents for nightclubs, the man of the 70’s and 80’s, proud of his mustache, really liked a good fougère or a more animalic and mossy chypre. And Maai brings back that kind of fragrance to the present day. However, it is important to say that Maai was not made only for men, but for women as well. It is a unisex fragrance that, in my opinion, takes a long time to present its floral and feminine facets. Maai has notes of tuberose, rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, dried fruits, aldehydes, sandalwood, oakmoss, and hyraceum, which is the note responsible for the animalic accord. Hyraceum is the petrified excrement of Procavia Capensis (also known as Rock Hyrax), composed of feces and urine, whose result has elements that combine the scent of civet, castoreum, musk, and even tobacco. When reading the composition, it is not difficult to imagine a potent floral with a dense base. But make no mistake, because the output is resinous and strong. Right off the bat, it reminded me of colognes like Gentleman, Giorgio for Men and Bijan Men. And that impression has been maintained throughout its evolution. The beauty of Maai lies in the indolic nuances of jasmine and in the green nuances of tuberose, which blend with a pungent smell of myrrh and rest on a beautiful mossy base. Its projection is high, its evolution is slow and its lasting is extreme. It takes time to notice the small changes, which show floral facets almost covered by honey and at the same time full of chypre aspect. Undoubtedly, it is an intriguing and complex perfume, even more, if we think that its creator has a formation in architecture and little history in the universe of the perfumery. Maai is proof that a good classic will always have room at any time. Worth knowing!

"A lush floral garden - one with beds of roses and jasmine, laced with creamy sparkling aldehydes - heavily guarded and surrounded by unchained wild black panthers; WARNING: Not for faint-hearted guests." "Oh my--" was the first thing I uttered when I smelled it for the first time. Just from the whiff of it, it smells a lot like MDCI Chypre Palatin because of the overload of oakmoss. I was wondering if they smell similar overall because both are of chypre group, but after putting it to the test, the difference became obvious. Maai is a concoction of the Old World, a pure vintage scent that makes one say "they don't make scents like this anymore these days". It's a contradictory "portion", as how Mr. Gardoni calls it: clean yet dirty, bright yet dark. There's a perfect balance of animalics and florals that don't creepy into each other; rather, they sit side-by-side and gradually showcase themselves after some time. On my skin, as exactly as the opening of my review, the heart is a purely clean heart made up of a trio of florals: rose, jasmine and tuberose, coupled with aldehydes. Around them though, is a blend of the major animalics: civet, musk, castoreum and hyraceum... basically, a black panther. It smells a lot like Chanel No.5 layered with Chypre Palatin and a dash of an animalic fragrance (Kouros, maybe?). Longevity is really good; on a cool day, it may last up to 12 hours. The sillage, surprisingly, is not as enormous as I thought it would be but it's definitely noticeable from a distance. Maai is definitely NOT for everyday use, and perhaps even for everyone. One has to really love animalic-florals (especially animalics), and very confident or comfortable in his/her own skin to pull it off. Occasion-wise, it's best for special night events or if one just feels feral for the night. A masterpiece of a perfume.

WOW is this stuff beastly animalic and full of vintage beauty! I immediately pictured the days when women still wore real mink furs with pride and big real musk extracts were a (legal) thing. I get a blast of fatty soap bubble aldeyhdes at the opening and oh-so civet muskiness. It smells of a bygone era of perfumery, rich and warm and unabashedly MUSKY. Seems to be a blend of civet, honey based, and jasmine's indolic musks all rolled into one. The overall effect is warm, rich, super skanky, and vintage. Later my suspicion of honey based musks was confirmed when a slight ambery honeycomb note rose, mingling gloriously with the civet facet. It very vaguely reminded me of Krizia's Teatro edp with that note specifically, hours into the drydown. Also it easily lasted 6 hours on me so I don't understand the longevity ratings here, and that was just from a dab sample! I'll enjoy wearing it for the day but I don't think I could wear it regularly as it reminds me of the smell of playing around my great grandma's vanity and jewelry when I was young. (Literally. She wore scents of this tone and her room was saturated by them.) This is both nostalgic and like stepping into someone else's shoes when I wear it. I keep imagining the wafts of her cigarettes weaving through the notes, too... but I think that part's just in my head by association ;) I like it in the same way I like the big mink coats I pictured it paired with; gorgeous, luxurious, but so eccentric that I'd blush just to walk out of the house in it! As a side note, I had the Long Lost Perfumes' version of Revlon's Intimate and this reminds me of it.