A Note from a Customer
In anticipation of the Mystics Collection from EO, I thought that each fragrance was supposed to capture the scent of regions where the Mystic the fragrance was named after came from. With Ibn Arabi, I was expecting something that would smell like Andalusia. What I’ve come to realize is that what makes this fragrance mystical however is the way in which it evolves.
In the beginning, the rose shines through in full effect. Not dark and jammy, but diffusive and airy, with an all too familiar citrus twang. The twang isn’t as pronounced as what you would find with Taifi, but there is enough to fool some. There is a shot of black tea which fully mellows out any of the spiciness you could get from the rose, along with adding clean, dark, and herbal nuances to it. The Frangipani can be felt too. To me, Frangipani has always had a sweetness akin to Passion Fruit, and it’s no different in this fragrance.
After experiencing the top notes, you expect the whimsical fruity air to dissipate and for the fragrance to become a classic yet unique Rose and Oud combo. Things however play out quite differently, as the roses wilt back into the earth. A resinous yet almost crude sweetness emanates from the mid-ground. Forget Jasmine, the florals have now been replaced by the ash tinted Geosmin texture of the Sumatran Oud. It is not entirely arid though, as there is some camphorous moisture from the Green Patchouli. Maybe medicinal, definitively earthy, at this point you’re thinking that you’ve reached final destination of this mystical journey.
That is not the case. Instead, the ground is dug up, with propagated pups of once ripe pineapples being planted in. You don’t get the overwhelmingly sweet sensation of cutting into a golden pineapple. Instead, you get a dormant yellow sweetness from the waxy green leaves. Speaking of dormant, the Cambodian Oud has been somewhat present throughout the whole fragrance. Whether you want to pigeonhole it into the Frangipani opening or paint it with the same colour as the Sumatran Oud, that’s fine. I think that the Cambodian Oud however blooms from the the leaves of the pineapple. Yes fruity, sure earthy, but what is most noticeable to me is the unripe mellow sourness of it.
The evolution of this fragrance cannot be anticipated, but at the same time is chronologically linked. The base of it feels like it could be the opening, the opening is radically different to the base, the mid notes completely diverge from what you expect the opening to lead into, and just when you think the mid notes are the base, someone throws a pineapple to the back of your head. I really did not anticipate how intrepid this fragrance would be, but in the same way that Ibn Arabi himself moved between places like Andalusia, Konya, Damascus, and Fez throughout his lifetime, this fragrance also ventures into similar yet different places. It is versatile enough to wear in most occasions, climates, and activities. The projection is enough for you to enjoy the surprising complexity while those who you brush shoulders with can enjoy whatever stage the fragrance is at.
As Ibn Arabi believed that all subjects, no matter how different, are reflections of the creator, this fragrance identifies the oneness of vastly different profiles and unites them into one spray.
