Ode to Oud

How I felt the only time I've smelled the real thing. Also not really an ode.

Materials Nicole brought for our talk and her smelling something. I have 3 hours of conversation to edit but it's coming soon-ish!

Nicole had a bottle of oud, a precious little bottle of the real stuff sourced from someone legit. She brought it along with many other materials she uses to make perfume for a podcast episode that will eventually be published here.

I was afraid to put it on my skin at first. Oud is famously stinky. It’s the resin that a tree produces after it has been infected with a type of mold; it creates this resin to protect itself from disease. The resin is extracted from agarwood trees, usually found in Southeast Asia. Needless to say, it is rare and very expensive. It’s why synthetic oud is used in pretty much every fragrance that lists oud or has oud in its name. So, to smell the real stuff was wild. And boy, was it stinky. I love the stinky stuff. Because eventually, it turns really beautiful. It’s the weird, unfamiliar scents that are impossible not to keep smelling. White florals will always have my heart, but as I get deeper into the rabbit hole of this fragrance world and appreciate each bottle as its own work of art, I am really drawn to the dark, unusual smells.

We smelled it on paper first. Nicole’s husband wears oud straight from the bottle, which is endlessly fascinating and badass to me. She asked if I wanted to try it on my skin, telling me to really experience it, I had to smell how it transformed while wearing it. I put some on one of my wrists. At first, it was straight-up cheese. But the most expensive, stinky French cheeses you can think of. Those cheeses that stink up the whole table, and you’re afraid to try, but you also really want to try them because they smell so awful. It was repellent, and I couldn’t keep my nose out of it.

Nicole told me that, eventually, it would start to smell good, and she was right. As it dried down, I smelled manure, hay, dirty horse hooves, and then rich wood. A deep, dark part of the earth that feels impossible to access. And then I was right back in the barn. My dad has a lifelong obsession with horses. From a young age, as a city kid growing up in Brooklyn, he got a taste of horseback riding somehow and never looked back. The dirt, the hay, the beautiful shiny coats of those majestic beasts. The saddles, the gear, the barn, the work. It made him want to be a country kid. The furthest he got was the suburbs of Jersey, but for a short time, he had 13 acres of land with a stable, a riding ring, and a beautiful meadow where the horses could run free and graze all day. It was delightful to visit when I was a kid. To get lost on his land, throw rocks in the pond, and even the frantic search for ticks on our bodies after wandering outside all day. That fear had a smell, too.

Dad wanted me to ride, just like he wanted me to go to Princeton. Neither of those things happened. I rode for maybe a year, English style. He tells me I hated it, although I don’t remember that. Maybe I started too young. Maybe I didn’t like the commitment and time it required to learn. But I remember scraping cakes of mud and hay out of horses' hooves or watching Dad do it, holding up the horse’s leg just right so it didn’t kick or move, taking that thick metal tool, and cleaning the gunk out. Watching was satisfying, like popping a zit or wiping an ash-covered surface until it sparkles white.

The smell of oud takes me right back there. The thick viscose smells of the barn and horse shit and so many layers of mud and earth. Unpleasant at first, and then slowly familiar, and then all of a sudden comforting.

I recently said that Nasomatto’s Black Afgano smells like something an orc would wear, but I was wrong — it would be oud, straight up and raw right out of the diseased tree. They’d shake it with their bare hands, reach in, violently pull out the sap, and rub it on.

Are you as sick and anxious about Tuesday as I am? I am so tired of the political discourse, of Democrats being displeased with our option, of Republicans rallying behind madmen, of everyone else in the world critiquing our totally absurd political system.

Jalil Johnson

’s recent post was balm to my soul, and I encourage you to read the entire thing right here. Here’s a bit I love:

“It’s hard to think about life beyond Tuesday—with so much uncertainty hanging thick in the air, enough to make you feel queasy. Yet the sobering truth is that there will, in fact, be a day after Tuesday, and another after that, and so on. This isn’t to downplay the weight of the moment; I’ve been in a state of constant tension since mid-October, and I suspect my nerves about the election are largely to blame. But no matter the outcome, Americans will have to wake up, look in the mirror, and face the same question we ask ourselves every day: “What am I going to wear today?” Which, in essence, is really asking: Who am I going to be today?”

I loved this article about Yosh Han, who is such a pillar in the San Francisco fragrance community. She’s been making perfume and building community in this space since 2004, and we are so lucky to have her here. I will be featuring her on DDD soon!

Next time, I’ll share more about some great events I went to recently including seeing the legendary Jean-Claude Ellena and getting to meet him briefly. And a lovely talk at the Ministry of Scent with the founders of Liis on their new releases. Choux Choux and Of True Minds are both fantastic and perfect right now.

Here’s a bonus photo of me. This was probably the last time I wore shorts.

The only photo I can find on that land my dad had that this piece references. And a painting my mom did of me - proof they wanted me to be a cowgirl.

Stay safe and sane friends. Smell you later.
xo