Neith

This is wonderful! Another incredible jewel by Duchaufour. This time the mood is dark, smouldering and resinous, but there is a warm, pulsating glow that pushes through the darkness, the baroque rose/carnation accord is breathtaking, and its slow masterful developement make this voluptuous, intense extrait very long lasting. True beauty 🧡

It’s a well-fought journey of a flower — from a full bloom of a thorny dark blood-red rose to the calm surrender of a carnation. Tragically beautiful.

Neith opens beautifully: complex, distinctive, and built around an unusual combination of citrusy rose, labdanum, and myrrh. Even when it begins to echo the familiar post-Chong Amouage style—or, more generously, L’Air du Désert Marocain—it still feels more accomplished than either. Duchaufour is too skilled for it not to. But given how high my expectations were, the drydown ultimately feels disappointingly familiar.

Neith is the first creation from this eclectic brand that I am mixed about. It represents a new direction for the brand because it is a floral incense that is darker in tone. But the use of synthetic ingredients to meet IFRA requirements considerably dilutes its impact resulting in a pedestrian drydown that one can get from many fragrances available for a fraction of its price. The main players are rose, carnation, pepper and incense at the top which gives the scent a good noirish but common start. Then comes the Oud accord drydown mostly comprised of amberwood and cypriol which is very run of the mill. The slight masculine leaning scent has moderate projection and good longevity. All in all, so much promise but not enough delivery. Enjoy!

I’ll start by saying that all the descriptions of Neith I’ve read so far are accurate. The only thing I’d add is that this isn’t merely a dark fragrance—it is the scent of Darkness itself. It doesn’t strike me as a perfume created to be worn by a person. Instead, it reminds me of a balm used in ancient rites and rituals, or perhaps the scent emanating from the body of some forgotten deity. That association feels fitting, considering that Neith is the name of one of the oldest Egyptian goddesses. The house discloses some of the notes, and they are indeed recognizable, but I’m convinced this composition contains far more than what’s listed. I also detect a pronounced incense accord and something tar-like that, I suspect, gives the fragrance its uncanny character - as if it doesn’t merely surround you with a scent but with a tangible texture. Neith’s performance is equally remarkable. Most fragrances disappear from my skin fairly quickly, yet a single, tiny spray in the crook of my elbow remained detectable for a full 24 hours. The problem is... that I don’t actually like Neith, nor can I imagine a situation in which I would want to wear it. To me, it feels less like a wearable perfume and more like an olfactory experience. And yet, that is precisely why I think it’s worth discovering. My impressions are based on a sample I received with another purchase, which also means I intend to revisit Neith in a few months, when the weather is colder. I have a feeling it may reveal a different side of itself, and if it does, I’ll gladly return to expand this review. For now, I’ll simply conclude by saying that Neela and Bertrand have once again proven that they are capable of creating something truly unlike anything else.