Shuyukhi -Running low

How strange would it be to see incense smoke swirl through the Oval Office? It would seem… off. 

Imagine a gathering of industry leaders or the country’s wealthiest businessmen or ministers in suits and ties. Imagine someone comes in with a big makhbara, those large bukhoor burners, light up some charcoal, and stack a bunch of oud chips that starts to smoke up the conference room. Imagine him then walking around the room, casually holding out the burner to let attendees perfume their suits and their ties as they talk. 

Later, someone would walk around the room handing out swipes of oud oil, and the business tycoons would rub their hands together to let the oud spread, and then rub their necks and ties, their beards, many of them sniffing the spot where the oud was first applied. 

It seems almost absurd, yet this is the norm in much of the Gulf where it would be strange not to see oud being burned and swipes being handed out. Where fine oud is one of the most extravagant gifts you can receive…

When he met Queen Elizabeth II, Sultan Qaboos didn’t come with an ancient Arabian sculpture or painting – he gifted her perfume.

While it’s something alien to Western culture, it’s almost impossible to imagine Middle and Far Eastern culture without colorful fragrance rituals. Ceremonies attended by the king of Thailand, of Cambodia, the presidents of China, Indonesia, Malaysia, would be incomplete without the large bundles of incense wafting through the air.

Back in 2004 I had an oil called Oud Shuyukh.

‘Shuyukh’ could mean scholars, or leaders, or elders, but in this context it referred to Gulf royalty (Shaykhs) who liked a particular kind of oud. Oud Shuyukh wasn’t just a name, either – it was actually the same caliber oud that was worn by royalty of the time. 

The best oud oils and oud wood has historically always ended up with Gulf or Saudi royalty. You might even remember that when the China Market started to boom, Far Eastern brokers flew to Saudi to buy back wood they had sold them in the first place! 

Of course, there are many places where you’d be greeted with thick wafts of synthetic nuisance. Cheap, cloying incense being burned and mass produced synthetic roll on perfumes being handed out. 

But not at a Shaykh’s mansion. It’s from their code of hospitality, a way of honoring a guest, that they showcase the most expensive oud chips and ouds. To give you special privilege to share in something truly precious. (If you think this is hyperbole, wait till you actually visit one!)

(We’re flying to Istanbul in September because the nation’s top scholar is hosting a special gathering and we were invited for the occasion… because he insists on sharing the best ouds and incense for the event he has invited us to be the official perfumers of the momentous gathering.)

As you probably know, when it comes to oud, the very best kinds share DNA. There may be regional differences (Cambodian vs. Hindis vs. Malaysian) but the thread of quality is clear as day. That’s why it’s a well-known fact that the Shuyukh have a smell…

If you’ve never experienced it: Those white-thobed Shaykhs… stand near to one and it’s like someone just lit up a fat chunk of agarwood. 

Get into a car with one and you’d think oud is vaping through the AC. 

Ask them how they manage to get that incredible scent to stick – because the scent exudes from them for hours – and you’re in for a fairly detailed description of how to fumigate your clothes the right way…

Shuyukhi is that smell. The smell of Royalty – not a metaphorical used-for-marketing ‘Royalty’ – but the scent you’d expect to encounter when you meet a shaykh who has a bottomless budget to acquire the finest agarwood on the planet. 

(I don’t mean that I feel this oud smells like the oud of Royalty. This is the actual oud used by royalty – shaykhs who own pet tigers and whose mansions you get lost in.)

A lot of the oud the Shaykhs have are from decades ago. Suyukhi, too, was likely distilled 30+ years ago – if you didn’t know it, you can smell it. You don’t need to know where it’s from, or how old it is. It smells like vintage sinking-grade oud the way Cambodian oud smells Cambodian. 

Ouds like Oud Sultani and Oud Ahmad were like sinking-grade nuggets were being diffused through a garden of flowers.

Shuyukhi profile’s, though, is beautifully purple with what may be the strongest chord of berries I’ve smelled. The makes-you-want-to-lick it effect is strong, so it’s also crazily addictive. 

If you own sinking-grade Terengganu, Kelantan, or any West Malaysian oud chips, you’d immediately smell the similarity. The fact that most people aren’t so fortunate goes to show how precious this oud is – you can’t even find the caliber agarwood it was distilled from. Never mind what three or more decades of aging does to such purple berried sinkers. 

Shuyukhi has the same cooling effect when inhaling that you’d experience in ouds like Abu Yog or Oud Royale; that ironic warm purple petrichor-like note that produces a numbing effect, with a smooth Terengganu-chip-gently-heated heart that’s present right from the start and becomes even more apparent on your way to the drydown. 

Of course, the bottle is yours to apply as you please. But, if I may suggest: Use yours in the spirit of the culture that produced it. Share it. Or, at least, douse yourself in it enough so that everyone can vicariously enjoy the purple bliss through you!

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