Hold Still

I must admit that I am generally less than enthusiastic about oud in perfume. Most of the time, what I encounter is a screechy Westernized representation or something resembling moldy timber blended with burnt electronics and Camembert. It is the mystic smoldering of agarwood chips or the captivating complexity of oud attars that I most appreciate—and which are seldom captured in perfumes. Hold Still is a relief from what I've come to expect and a joy to wear, trading the usual rose-cypriol-saffron top-and-heart for a rose with dry, dark petals—slightly medicinal at first, soon settling into a cabalistic bouquet imbued with a tenebrous oud. There are moments that do in fact resemble burning agarwood, especially as Hold Still dries down, with patchouli, cedar and guaiac each adding an element of ceremonial-feeling woodiness. For fear of leaning on the tropes of Eastern exoticism, I can't help but to imagine that this may be what a temple or some place of sanctity would smell like. Its the smell of centuries of worship and reflection, embedded history, continuous cycles, the wheel of life, the Bhavachakra. It has renewed my appreciation for oud, and has restored my faith that it can in fact translate well in the paradigm of modern perfumery.