Sultan Abd?s Selam

Minimalist, with such an ethereal bitter-sweet aquatic core, it makes you wish you could put the bottle up in a frame and showcase it to the world. Zen-like olfactory simplicity that makes it redundant to nitpick at notes, yet packing as much gusto as the most vintage ouds you’ve ever smelled.     

Previous Sultan oils have ventured into pretty eccentric terrain, but this one easily takes the cake for the most far-out one to date.

When you’ve made oud – or any craft – your life, the worst thing that can happen is stagnation; the proverbial writer’s block.

You’ve experimented with pure white wood, then crushed a batch of wood that could have paid for an S Class. You’ve gone through zero soaks, six month stints in ceramic and hybrid cold cookings. Sometimes you feel like you’ve stuck your nose into every crevice the acquilarian scent scape has to hide. And like every traveler who reaches his destination you want to know: where will you go next?

I’ve been doing oud for a long time and sometimes – I’ll be honest… sometimes I worry that I’ll lose my compass and won’t know where to go next.

But this is exactly the kind of anxiety that stokes the fire and jerks you out of bed to distill an oud that blows the lid right off the pot. It’s when you ease out the dipstick to get a succulent whiff of oud like this that makes it all worth it.    

This is the first and only Sumba/New Guinea fusion in history. Sumba Island is as far down south as the oud map goes, right in line with the other batch in here, New Guinea. (Sumba ≠ Sumbawa, in case you’re wondering.) If Bhutanese oud is the northern apex, Sultan Abdüs Selam is the furthest south your oud crave will ever get to go… unless the Aussies have untapped oud oases lurking in the outback.

If only we had more materials to work with, I’d be distilling New Guinea-Sumbas non-stop. The scent is just so delectably perfumey – I’m not exaggerating when I say it’s even more accessible than Oud Yusuf, and just as floral – without losing its oudy zing one iota. Its blue-green pitch is gorgeous & seductive, with a virgin bitterness that pumps out the resinous heartwood every bit as much as distillations 4 times the price.

Abdüs Selam takes the aquatic signature of earlier NG Sultans and tropicafies it. More spices, less green. Ethereal blue, with an earthy overtone that takes you out of the sea onto palm beach where salty oceanic top notes ooze from the resinous New Guinean heart notes. That makes the aroma a notch more grounding than most of its predecessors.

The fragrance treads finely on the line where oleoresin elbows aside auxiliary guise. A delicious guava-blue fruity profile, with a whiff of mimosa white within 5 minutes. Among the least smokey of all the Sultans, exuding silage that’s low-key and note progression that’s chilled and steady, with no erratic scent shifts as you move from top to drydown. It’s your low-temp kōdō equivalent in every way.

I can’t say this about most ouds, but where Sultan Abdüs Selam really hits the spot is about an hour in, down to the base. For many it’s all about the top notes. Isn’t that where all the life is? Lush as the top notes are – and believe me, they’re flying higher than even the most delicate Papuan distills – it’s the quintessential oudy zest that shows itself fully after the chirping top notes settle down into this crazy Sumbaesque that makes your nose explode: “Now, THIS is OUD!”

If you thought Sultan Salman’s Walla was a rarity among rubies, it’s only because Sultan Abdüs Selam wasn’t available then. This is hands down the rarest terroir fusion done by anyone ever, with a jiddan naadir smell to back up the claim.

Highly recommended.

All natural and chemical-free. Extracted by traditional means, without the use of synthetic chemicals. This oil does not have an expiration date. It will only improve as it ages. No "gassing" required.