Mystique Bouquet (Afnan)

"The 1960s Called and Wants its Catherine Deneuve Back . . ."

I'm told there's a bit of a backstory as to how this fragrance was created, something about Quentin Bisch winning so much with Ex Nihilo's Fleur Narcotique (2014) that Parfums de Marly asked him to self-flatter in the original Valaya (2023). But how Imran Fazlani's 2024 creation fits into that situation is beyond me. I've gleaned that these fragrances represent a newer style of florals unique to the '20s. At least, that's the take on Fragrantica. My take is different. In any case, Mystique Bouquet smells a lot like Valaya in the first two minutes—like, a lot. But then it goes even further in a surprising direction.

There are some clones out there where you smell them and tell yourself, okay, this smells like fragrance X in the top and mid, but the base is totally different. Then there's clones where you smell the original and then smell the dupe, and you're like, Christ, there's no point in wearing the original anymore. Enter Mystique Bouquet: Fazlani took the intensely synthetic dryer-sheet musk explosion of Valaya and reinterpreted its chemical cacophony as a French chypre from the 1900s with a contemporary sheen of Ambroxan. At heart, the scent structure here is the sort of thing a sexy French woman in 1967 woud wear, and the old-school feel shimmers through in a very classical, wonderful way. But that's not the only thing that grabs me about it. My heart opens to Mystique Bouquet in its first hour, because that's when I get hit in the face by a massive wallop of regular 'ol oakmoss. And the kicker is it's not even listed on the box (although it does appear in the pyramid).  

When you've worn as many fragrances as I have, you know that oakmoss has a lung feel to it. There's a body and heft to it that can sometimes impart a heaviness to the air you breathe. It's here in this fragrance, and enough of it that I know it can't possibly be IFRA compliant. It isn't some hypoallergenic version of oakmoss. It's vintage Mitsouko-moss. Combined with an intensely radiant bergamot/peach accord, a bleached bouquet of squeaky-clean white florals, cistus labdanum, a big grassy-green note, and a salty base of multilayered white musks, Mystique Bouquet far outdoes Valaya (piss poor in comparison) for roughly a quarter of the price. Plus it comes in a gorgeous bottle and box, so kudos to Afnan for once again blowing me away on all fronts in the quality department. 

Supremacy in Heaven (Afnan)

Some day an Arabian perfumer will enlighten me as to why Creed's Silver Mountain Water is a "must clone" perfume in the UAE. Pierre Bourdon did two amazing things when he designed SMW: he authored a "fresh" olfactory profile, the likes of which had never been done before, and he got it right the first time. Since 1995, countless copies and spin-offs have exited the Emirates, a phenomenon I find fascinating. 

Afnan is a young brand, founded in 2007 by an entrepreneur named Imran Fazlani, and its street cred must be solid, as it has a Gajillion products across as many lines. Although it's always exciting to discover a competent Saudi perfume brand, they really are springing up like weeds, with a different "niche" line appearing virtually every month. If I had the bread to shop Dubai, I'd be spoiled for choice. So I approached Afnan fully expecting Supremacy in Heaven (2018) to blend in with Rasasi's Al Wisam Day, or Ajmal's Silver Shade, the same Mefisto-on-a-budget approach of mating a sweet pink berry note to metallic citruses and floral white musks. In short, a been there, done that scenario. But, ever the optimist, I told myself, what the heck? Let's try it. Having smelled Sillage, I figured another thirty dollar frag could possibly outdo its beleaguered template of nineties excess. 

Supremacy in Heaven is a very divergent take on the SMW theme. I'm struck by the high quality of materials and blending here. Instead of opting into synthetic "froot" sweetness, the perfumer chose realism by showcasing an intensely earthy, acidic, and slightly smoky blackcurrant note, and I must say, this is the clearest and most natural blackcurrant note I've ever smelled. It surpasses Silver Mountain Water with a multifaceted pissy-fruity naturalness. One could argue that this level of realism works against the fragrance because it's too on-the-nose, and the overall focus of the SMW profile is notably shifted to blackcurrant as a central player instead of peripheral in a Creed-style blend, but I might quibble with that point -- Afnan has a lot going on. 

I think it smells expensive and arguably more "niche-like" than its template. It's blended with a glacé accord of red grapefruit and mandarin, juicy and bright. The result is the effect of an "inky waterfall," as one Fragrantica reviewer put it. The astringency of the fragrance is notable, very crisp, tart, and green, and filled out by the rounded citrus on top, and a dry sencha note below. Definitely the "inkiest" SMW clone, and the most literal rendering of blackcurrant, citrus, and green tea. Nice work, though livelier on fabric than skin.