Louis Miller
Oud Fanatic
Next up from @Habz786 Qamar
What a wonderful first impression - waxy, delicately floral, some pine,
and an elusive, wood-pulp dampness that takes me back to an early childhood memory: the chalky flour-and-water paste used in paper meche craftsmaking. Recognizing this aroma but unable at first to place it, I took several deep inhales, searching my memory for the sense impression, and I let out a loud "oooommmmph" as the experience washed over me. I am moved.
Twenty minutes later, the oil retains it's pulpy, waxy aura but begins speaking a new language, referring to milky honeydew melon laced with warming spice.
By the the 1-hour mark (the beginning of the dry-down phase for me here in humid New York City), I now understand the Hindi comparison; Qamar settles into a velvety smooth, musky texture with an animalistic murmur, but decidedly milky, retaining a lactose note that sets this Burmese apart from Hindis I've worn thus far.
I adore Qamar's ability to take flight without losing its sense of balance and sobriety. Yes, it has honeyed sweetness, and it's this tonality that keeps me from using the word "bitter" that others have chosen. But the sweetness is mature, understated, and sitting atop a velvety soft blanket of wood pulp, evoking a character that defies my ability to label it. Here's my best attempt: Others call it "bitter green," I call Qamar pearly white. One month into my oud experience, I have a new favorite.
What a wonderful first impression - waxy, delicately floral, some pine, and an elusive, wood-pulp dampness that takes me back to an early childhood memory: the chalky flour-and-water paste used in paper meche craftsmaking. Recognizing this aroma but unable at first to place it, I took several deep inhales, searching my memory for the sense impression, and I let out a loud "oooommmmph" as the experience washed over me. I am moved.
Twenty minutes later, the oil retains it's pulpy, waxy aura but begins speaking a new language, referring to milky honeydew melon laced with warming spice.
By the the 1-hour mark (the beginning of the dry-down phase for me here in humid New York City), I now understand the Hindi comparison; Qamar settles into a velvety smooth, musky texture with an animalistic murmur, but decidedly milky, retaining a lactose note that sets this Burmese apart from Hindis I've worn thus far.
I adore Qamar's ability to take flight without losing its sense of balance and sobriety. Yes, it has honeyed sweetness, and it's this tonality that keeps me from using the word "bitter" that others have chosen. But the sweetness is mature, understated, and sitting atop a velvety soft blanket of wood pulp, evoking a character that defies my ability to label it. Here's my best attempt: Others call it "bitter green," I call Qamar pearly white. One month into my oud experience, I have a new favorite.
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