I first encountered this at a small street stall in Beirut, many many years ago. After one sniff of the roll-on applicator, I immediately rejected it. I had a fixed idea of what I was looking for at that moment, and this It was not it. With an uncharacteristic lack of serendipitous curiosity, I immediately moved on.
I gave it another chance a decade or so later, at Damman Airport in Saudi. On that occasion, one sniff evoked from me such revulsion that, once again, I immediately moved on.
Third time lucky. I dabbed a dot of the stuff on the back of my hand in a little bakkhoor store in Whitechapel, London. I immediately wished I had not. Up close, my hand smelled of vomit, plus the soiled nappies of a formula-fed baby. Holy refrigerator-after-power-cut, Batman, I thought. This stuff is absolutely rank.
However, that afternoon, back home in my study, my teenage son complimented me on my after-shave. This is a rare occurrence. Then, returning from the lavatory, I noticed that my study did indeed smell sublimely pleasant and exotic. I sniffed my hand: it still smelled revolting, up close. But, wafting around from a distance of 30cm, it smelled lovely. After another hour, the back of my hand also smelled good up close.
I think what I am smelling is amber and agarwood, Jim, but not agarwood as I knew it, or amber as I knew it. I think we're dealing with something special: maybe the tree has indeed been inoculated with ascemycetous fungus to produce this effect (as is done to beech trees to produce truffles, or with grapes to produce botrytised Sauternes). I'm aware of the tylotic theory that the goodies in the resins in true agarwood are produced to combat this infection. Maybe the tamed aoud I am used to has been predominantly simple uninfected aquilaria?
The animalic components interact with rose to produce something magically dusty, simultaneously busy and serene.
I discover to my amazement that I love this stuff. Two drops maximum, however. Four would evacuate buildings.
There is something rhapsodic about the aroma, capricious and prevaricating. I can see why the name is appropriate: 1001 nights, ('alf laila wa laila' also means 'a thousand night and a night' in Arabic), evoking a Sheherazade telling her stories to buy time.
1001 nights is for me bottled Orient. Hot! All you don`t expect but are surrounded by inevitably, strangers both in rags and in expensive fabrics. Smell of wood, cheap sweet perfumes, and expensive oud oils... smell of dust and smell of rain...
I like my fragrances being a bit weird... and this one fall into that category perfectly. Turn once and your nostrils want to reject, turn twice and you can`t get enough.
Smelly although clean, clean although smelly. Clean sweat if that makes any sense to you. To me it does.
This is one awesome attar , but i do not think its for women. you will need patience when wearing this but will be rewarded, if you are looking for a designer attar then this is not for you, Ajmal have classed this attar as feminine. i am a male wear this all the time
I have this scent and I agree with lefay comments. However, within 30 minutes the smell of what I would call a sweet cigar/woody fragrance appears... The comments I receive have all been positive... My only question is, is this designed for a male or a female... The website useds the female symbol and the bottle is feminine, but the aroma is masculine.
I ordered this from www.arabianbazaar.com, along with two other (Al Haramain) fragrances. (These are alcohol-free perfume oils.) The descriptions on the website are vague, so I ordered rather blindly, based on a Basenote member's assurance of quality from this company. 1001 Nights (also listed as Alf Laila O Laila) is dominated by a woody note that reminds me of the wood in 10 Corso Como -- only in this case it is so forward as to obliterate all the other notes for the first few hours. This note by itself isn't terribly pleasant, to my nose (although I like Corso Como) -- it has a musty, slightly animalic character, like a wooden plank in a derelict building. After a few hours, though, the scent morphs into a smooth accord with florals (rose, I think) peeking through the wood, and it becomes suddenly soft and intriguing. And now, the next day, I can still detect a woody and slightly spicy note on my skin where I applied it. I'm sorry I can't provide a more detailed description of the actual notes, which in this formula may be unfamiliar to me. I need to give this a few more trials, but for now, because of the hours of dank wood smell, I'm giving this a neutral rating. I'd love to know what others think of this scent.