Or des Indes (1988)
by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier

Maître Parfumeur et Gantier rarely does anything by halves, and many of its fragrances are blunt and assertive. Sometimes, as in the cases of Route du Vétiver, Iris Bleu Gris, or Parfum d’Habit, the bold approach is wildly successful. In others, such as Fraîche Passiflore, it is disastrous. Hence I’m surprised to find myself having a hard time pinning down Or des Indes.

By Maître Parfumeur et Gantier standards it is a very meek scent, a saffron-hued floral oriental on a politely sweet vanilla and amber base, one whose volume never seems to rise above mezzo piano. Other reviewers have remarked upon this scent’s opopanax content, and where that note is concerned my benchmark fragrances are Shalimar and Diptyque’s Eau Lente, neither of which Or des Indes approaches in complexity or character. I recommend either of these in place of Or des Indes, which ultimately disappoints me coming from this house.

Very powdery scent slightly reminiscent to the smell of make-up purse. To me this makes it very feminine oriental in the end, although I agree it could also be worn by men who are not afraid the smell of powder. And lipstick.

Ambery oriental full of sweet and warm opoponax and vanilla. Could be a great, distinguished and intoxicating evening wear for the ladies. No more than 2 sprays, thank you.

Bal a Versailles' rich older sister, with opoponax added and more sandalwood for sheer exoticism and more complexity. Also a distant cousin of Shalimar.

Truly one of the most beautiful leathery, powdery dry-downs in the fragrance world. Easily unisex -- I have no earthly idea why MPG ever labeled it as a "women's" frag in the first place.

FOETIDUS ~ you've nailed this one square on! The only thing I can add is that Or des Indes comes across as a Mitsouko wanna-be, but never even makes it out the starting gate...

I am ensconced in the small private room and the oriental carpet is scratchy beneath my feet. I sway into the warmth of the enveloping incense that snakes its way through scattered vanilla pods and geranium leaves on the side table. Velvet curtains make the room mysteriously close and almost claustrophobic and I can sense the crouching creatures in the shadowy corners that give a sharp edge to my unease. Memories of my mother are irresistible and overwhelming. I cross the room to sink into the gilt threaded amber silk of the corner armchair. Slowly, gradually, the room lightens and I am left with a gentle golden glow and memory of spices.

What I get out of this fragrance is a bit strange, and I don’t identify with what some of the other reviewers are saying. For instance, I don’t get any sweet (except the opoponax itself) and I get a bare minimum of citrus out of the opening. My nose is overwhelmed by an unattractive metallic-leathery accord from the start. I get some opoponax, and there are wood and spices, but the whole fragrance has rather metallic-leathery tinges to it in the top notes and, to a lesser amount, in the mid notes. Normally I love opoponax in fragrances—one of my favorite notes. With Or Des Indes the opoponax is muted and leathery—I’d prefer it rich, sweet, and powdery. And while I’m not exactly enamored of metallic accords, I don’t remember having such an adverse reaction to them: Maybe it’s the particular combination of sandalwood and opoponax that produces that accord that seems so annoying to my nose, or maybe there’s some unnamed leather or castoreum in this fragrance. The accords do improve significantly after an hour…they get very pleasant, but they never get really interesting in my opinion; in fact, with the loss of the annoyance, the fragrance becomes soft, powdery; and that’s the complete story of the drydown—soft, powdery and lacking in interest. Or Des Indes does have a warm ambiance and it has mild sillage, but my nose catches that irritating background note that is difficult for me to ignore, and the drydown is too passive and lacking in interest.