XerJoff
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Black pepper detonates immediately, almost aggressive against the rose's papery dryness. The neroli provides a momentary brightness—almost aldehydic—before the woody structure begins asserting itself within the first five minutes.
The ouds bloom into their full complexity, the Laotian's soapy-green character dancing against the Burmese's deeper, almost leathery undertones. White blossoms emerge with creamy indolic nuance, whilst the spice gradually recedes but never disappears entirely, keeping everything sharp and angular.
A hazy, smoky amber settles on skin—frankincense and cedar creating an almost incense-like quality, the vetiver adding dusty earthiness. The musk becomes more pronounced, lending a subtle animalic warmth, though projection diminishes considerably as the fragrance transforms into something more intimate and skin-bound.
Zafar announces itself as a fragrance for those who've grown weary of florals that apologise for their existence. Christian Carbonnel constructs something genuinely unusual here—a rose that refuses prettiness, immediately sharpened by black pepper into something almost confrontational. This isn't a romantic rose; it's the dried petals found in ancient spice markets, dusted with aggressive peppercorns that make your nose tingle.
What's remarkable is how the two ouds (Laotian and Burmese) don't compete but instead create a woody backbone with almost orchestral depth. The Laotian brings that slightly greenish, medicinal quality—slightly soapy in the most sophisticated way—whilst the Burmese adds darker, more animalic weight. Between them sits Moroccan neroli, which could easily disappear but instead cuts through with bright citrus acidity, preventing the composition from becoming a dense, oppressive musk-and-wood slog.
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3.9/5 (124)