Before the holidays, I had placed an order from Aura of Kazakhstan for their discovery set and a travel spray of their newest perfume, 7 as a Constant. The best way so far to get their perfumes in the United States is to purchase directly from their website, and they offer free worldwide shipping! My bright orange package arrived much sooner than expected, “but it’s from Kazakhstan, so” the US Postal Service delivery person had asked the leasing office of my apartment building to store it securely until I picked it up in person. The Safety Data Sheets for each of the 10 perfume samples were contained in a plastic sheet protector taped to one side of the box.

The discovery set itself is beautifully presented, containing a stack of round blotters with the brand’s logo and 10 vials generously sized at 3 mL each. The box has a magnetic closure and the inner side of the lid lists each perfume along with its fragrance family, aspect of Kazakhstan to which it is dedicated, and perfumer. The brand boasts “the best European perfumers,” so the country from which each perfumer hails is also mentioned next to their name. A booklet provides the notes pyramid, story, and photo of each perfume.

Monday, Jan. 1: Pulse of Astana—Meant to evoke the “modern city of glass and metal in the very heart of Eurasia,” this opens with a fruity note of sweet green apple, quickly followed by something watery that mixes into aldehydic hairspray. It even has the same effect when you accidentally inhale it through the mouth (which I did with both the perfume and hairspray today). Apple is not listed as a note, so it might be the blackcurrant and grass soaked in dewy rose. The sweetness makes the perfume feel generous and voluptuous. I’m not sure whether seaweed and/or geosmin were used to create the feeling of an urban landscape after a big rain, but even this is made warm and welcoming with a large dose of musk and gentle woody notes.

Tuesday, Jan. 2: Music of Mountains—This is billed as a “modern spicy chypre,” and the first spritz reminded me of a bright cologne in a classic masculine style. I have learned to approach “spicy” fragrances with cautious optimism because of clove, and more recently nutmeg, being my nemeses. The initial top note I found attractive, and made me think of a metal triangle I used to play in the school ensemble as I didn’t know any instruments. Turns out that’s cinnamon. The heart is mildly sweet, perhaps from the lavender, accompanying foresty notes of pine. This stays into the woody base with a green vetiver. If only the persistent note of nutmeg didn’t last through most of the development.

[Wednesday, Jan. 3: I didn’t feel well enough to test a new perfume, but didn’t want to go unscented either, so reached for old favorite Banana Republic Classic—the refreshing grapefruit never lets me down except gently into a light musk.]

Thursday, Jan. 4: Back to Aura of Kazakhstan with Heart of Alma-Ata—I’ve called perfumes syrupy before, but this starts as literal cough syrup for me; not thick, but unctuous and ready to coat your membranes. After that initial shock, I get a fruity cocktail of apricot, sweet apple, and something artificial but mouthwatering—it is this characteristic rather than a scent that makes me think it’s the listed melon note. These fruits are dipped in melted dark chocolate with an undertone of something slightly burnt, like fruit that has been cooking for a long time. To seal in this richness, a sticky and sour note (beeswax and honey?) and a high concentration of liquefied powder (vanillin?) are deployed, and I start to wonder if I’ve been teleported to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory.

Friday, Jan. 5: Wind of the Great Steppe—The first gust is of an astringent cedarwood (likely Cedramber), leading into a green apple and something rubbery. Perhaps it’s the blend of davana, cumin, and wormwood notes that I can’t discern. I do get the herbal bitterness, though. The apple turns sweeter over time, which works well with the soft, suede-like, violet leather tinged with saffron. The scent softens into a musky breeze with wispy florals over the leather base.

Saturday, Jan. 6: Black Gold—Dedicated to the industry of oil production in Kazakhstan, this one takes a literal interpretation. It starts plasticky and then surprisingly fruity, like mango. Leather, the main note, appears peppery at first, and the oil starts to come to the forefront but something keeps it light—perhaps cedarwood, a prominent vetiver, or the galbanum giving it an herbal freshness. Cumin lends a foody note, but only briefly. A watery fruit continues to float above the leather, which leans on styrax, barely masking an undertone of residual cigarette smoke. This is where it stays linear. One of the more intriguing perfumes of the set.

Sunday, Jan. 7: Silver Edelweiss—Or is it a silver fox in a bed of edelweiss flowers? …Couldn’t resist. This is classically fresh and “masculine,” akin to Frédéric Malle French Lover by way of a bright herbal note such as angelica, although pine and “green notes” are listed instead. I suspect citrus, coriander, some kind of pepper, and galbanum as well, although the list teases me with incense and clove, which luckily I don’t detect. It does get a bit musky on the drydown.

Bonus: 30 Years Special Edition—Celebrating the 30th anniversary of Kazakhstan’s independence, this extrait was launched in 2021 and features a rich, dark, opulent rose melded with saffron, oud, and musk, supported by spices. I’m surprised vanilla is not listed. Sweet, strong, and not for the faint of heart.