Rose de Jamal
Les Indémodables (2019)

I imagine this perfume is a bit hard for many to digest. A rose is a rose is a rose, or so the saying goes. But it isn't. That saying is categorically and unequivocally false. And yet, when the majority of consumers go to buy rose perfumes they are typically looking for, generally and generically, the same rose accord time after time. Rose gardeners, perfumers, and perfume connoisseurs understand that there is a massive variety of roses, and, therefore, a massive variety of rose accords. There are roughly 150 species of wild roses, which, over the years through hybridization technology, have led to somewhere-in-the-ballpark of 30,000 rose varietals. To go to a perfume counter and expect a rose perfume to smell like the same rose varietal every time is not only bonkers, but it is, also, unfortunately realistic due to the complete lack of creativity amongst perfume houses when it comes to truly exploring this incredible marvel of nature. It is criminal that ~30,000 varietals exist, and we always seem to get the one that smells the same... time... after time... after time. Les Indemodables and Antoine Lie clearly understand this very well, perhaps like me are tired of the same old rose, and opted to give us a rose perfume that is very notably unique (at least to my nose). In other words, if you like your rose to smell like every other grocery-store rose and rose perfume on our retail counters, this might not be for you.

The rose used in this perfume is grown in Morocco by an individual named Jamal - making this an unusually simple, straightforward, and accurate title for Les Indemodables - and presents a rose accord that is, for one, unmistakably rose, but two, is not like any rose accord I can recall smelling. That is because there are tricks being played on us. The immediate feeling from the first sniff onwards is one of energy and lift: Rose de Jamal intends to be gently energetic, cool and refreshing, handsome and fun. Keep this in mind going forward, rather than the typical thoughts associated with rose of red florals, elegance and richness, fruitiness and earthiness, etc. Oh - and one more thing - do not smell this on paper. This perfume needs the heat and oil of skin to truly work its magic; if you're going to smell it only on paper, don't bother smelling it at all.

The easiest way to think of this perfume is like a Venn diagram. The biggest of the four circles to this perfume is definitely the Moroccan rose, and the other three are cedar, mint, and rainbow pepper. All four can be smelled individually, but how and where they overlap changes their characteristics in some pretty unusual ways. The Moroccan rose accord is a pink floral - not as bright as white but not as deep as red - and luxuriously soft like a high-end bath powder. Like powder it is dry, but there is a touch of muskiness to it that lends to a slightly oily characteristic. The cedar accord is a classic high-end quality cedar accord in that it is woody in a light beige sort of way - not white in a smoky birch way, not green in a galbanum young-wood way, and not dark and earthy in a balsamic way - and very aromatic, like the smell you get walking into a high-end wood furniture store. The rainbow pepper accord is not piquant and spicy in the nose-tickling way that pepper can be, nor tight and earthy like black pepper, rather bright and colorful, round, soft, and a bit fruity like Szechuan peppercorn without the heat. The mint is botanical, smooth, and gentle - like you just plucked the leaves, and placed them over top of hot water to infuse. The mint and pepper materials sit over the top of the perfume and are the first to leave in the first dry down, but, very interestingly, where the rose and mint overlap give off a wintergreen accord. The mint seems to go through the entirety of this perfume, though not the same material. Clever trick. If your nose cannot pick up the individual pieces, what you will pick up is a wintergreen accord where these overlap. Where the rose and the cedar overlap... well... I'm struggling a bit to name it! The oily muskiness of the rose, plus the supple plushness of the rose, combined with the aromatic woodiness of the cedar make me think of suede! There is something a bit leathery to Rose de Jamal, but definitely not a tanned and skanky castoreum-laden leather note, rather a light, soft, gentle, beige suede. Where the rose and pepper overlap really just ends up making the rose itself more convincing in a typical manner since roses often smell a bit peppery and fruity (like a rainbow peppercorn). I actually had to draw this out - seriously, I have a sketch pad with a few versions of a Venn diagram and the different notes/accords I've found in effort to figure out how they all line-up - which would be a lot easier if the accords would stop moving on me!

All at once rosy, minty, woody, and suede like, while seeming to levitate off of my skin in the most weightless way and tricking my nose and my mind's eye into thinking they might be hallucinating. In its simplicity lies a puzzle of striking complexity, like a deceptive Sudoku. It's also gorgeous, and perfect for someone who wants a different rose perfume. In an odd way, this is one of the best homages to the rose: it acknowledges this marvel of nature, integral to perfumery but taken for granted, boxed in, and underappreciated.

I can't rate this perfume positively or negatively, because I am almost completely anosmic to it. I could only smell a vague hint of something. This happens occasionally and it's usually due to iso e super, ambroxan or some kind of musk, but I did read somewhere that some rose ingredients can be the culprit as well. Too bad.

Apparently I am noseblind to what it has to offer. Disappointing. Slight hints of mint and faint rose. 🥀 😢. I’ll stick with my favorite rose Nahema. And supporting rose in No. 5.

Rose de Jamal is not merely pretty—it is beautiful, but as a study in subtlety, it has a tenderness not often found in a fragrance dedicated to rose. Make no mistake: this is not to say it is without its firmness—or its firmament, if you will. It's just that perfumer Antoine Lie communicates grace in this composition, using what the layperson may deem disparate elements that could potentially overshadow a rose accord, but here, these elements animate the rose.

The lavender softens and mellows. A mint, which I discern as spearmint, lends a cool, sweet green. What's most notable to me, however, is the addition of 2.8% Moroccan Atlas cedar oil joining the 5.5% Moroccan rose absolute. This is what is of particular interest to me. Atlas cedar oil differs from that of Virginia or Texas cedar oils in that it actually comes from a true botanical cedar, Cedrus atlantica (the other two, most often associated with cedar in perfume, are actually species of juniper).

Atlas cedar smells quite different from Juniperus virginiana and Juniperus mexicana as well. Native to the Atlas mountains of Morocco and Algeria, the oil from the tree emits a sharper, curiously pine-needle camphoraceous-cresylic top note that is also sappy-sweet. I am also reminded of apricot brandy. Its heart is smoky and dry, and it simmers down to a peppery old wood sensation. This seems to be what most leverages the rose absolute in the composition and the energy between the two is most satisfying to my nose.

In its development, get facets of Williams pear, the slightest savory dill quality, a slight milky sappiness, with a thin plume of smoke running through it. There's an oily buoyancy and velour texture to Rose de Jamal, rendering it limpid in overall feel, suited for a weekend flâneur. It was named for a farmer named Jamal, from which the rose absolute oil was sourced, which I think is one of the most heartwarming explanations for a fragrance's name. My regards to Antoine Lie and Les Indemodables for what has become a new-ish favorite rose that tickles me pink.

Not a big rose fan but this is pretty good. There is a wood or cedar note in this as well. The thing that separates this from a lot of other rose fragrances is the light mint note. Unisex and a nice rose fragrance to own if that is your thing. 7/10

I don’t know who the Jamal in Rose de Jamal is, but I suspect he’s the guy they hired to sneak into the Kannauj attar factory at night and spoil an otherwise nice, fresh green rose distillation with an over-enthusiastic pour of whatever woody aromachemical they use in Rose 31 (Le Labo).

I can’t blame Jamal. The shortage of real sandalwood oil, coupled with the rise in India of a middle class of young men and women who largely prefer to smell fresh and modern in dupes of Dior Sauvage and Gucci Flora than of anything their parents or grandparents might have worn, i.e., attars and ruhs wrung from Mother India’s abundant flowers, herbs, and aromatics, has pretty much taken the traditional attar factories of Kannauj out at the knees.

Rose de Jamal smells like the stuff churned out these days by attar houses that have accepted reality and switched to producing oil-based freshies and designer dupes in their labs (no deg and bhapka here), their backrooms filled with gallon containers of modern aromachemicals rather than precious rose oils, sandalwood, or choyas. So, like I said, I don’t blame Jamal. He’s just out there, trying to survive, you know? I do blame Antoine Lie, however. I love Antoine Lie’s work in general, so I’m not too sure what went wrong here, unless it was a deliberate cash grab for the market share currently dominated by Rose 31 (Le Labo). Rose de Jamal smells like the beginnings of a decent rose accord – minty, powdery, but also jammy – quickly smothered by a brutal cloud of chemical ‘radiance’ that seems to last for days on fabric and on the skin.