They say nature abhors a vacuum. Now that I’m satisfied with the perfumes I have, not wanting to buy more, and having let go of some that didn’t really make me happy… my subconscious seems to interpret that as having room to explore again. I’ve become suggestible in unexpected ways recently, via memory anchors I didn’t know had formed.

That said, my threshold for wanting to try new fragrances has been raised considerably. A lot of brand collections feel similar, with one representative from each fragrance family, or built around familiar themes of travel, amorous encounters, personalities, history… and it doesn’t help that they’ve gotten much more expensive in the last few years. The ones that pique my curiosity recently are ones that have had time to macerate in the mental vault.

For instance, when Portia mentioned Olympic Orchids recently, I immediately remembered that on my trip to Taiwan in 2024, I had been shown this brand in a niche perfumery when I specifically asked about Olibanum because I’d read about it. As I’ve grown fond of frankincense as a note in recent years, I went ahead and bought a discovery set. (It’s one of the more reasonably priced ones.)

Soon after that, Flaconneur included Régime des Fleurs in a list of new releases, and I recalled that on a visit to Dover Street Parfums Market in Paris (also in 2024), I had smelled Leather Petals from this brand and thought to myself, “I could wear this,” but did not pursue it as I already have enough leather fragrances. That sent me on an impulsive hunt for a sample, and it would appear that I’m late to the game, because that perfume is no longer on the brand’s website. It’s still available from some stores, and after browsing the entire catalog of discovery sets from one, I bought only a tin of rose tea in addition to the singular sample.

If there’s a theme that I’m drawn to more than others, it’s raw materials or notes. These are less subjective, and I’m usually more likely to find several that I like from a collection. Atelier Materi, Maison Crivelli, and Le Labo (despite the notorious bait-and-switch in their naming) are all solid examples of this. To build an entire brand based on one ingredient, however, strikes me as bold and intriguing.

Olibanum (or Olbnm, or Om.), founded by perfumer Gérald Ghislain, places great emphasis on sustainability and making a positive impact, and the execution is apparent from the minimal packaging using recycled cardboard. Instead of having a fixed set of samples, you choose your own six. All contain a CO2 extracted olibanum from Somalia, per the website. Unfortunately Sacra, the “original” frankincense with fir balsam, was not available to sample. My selection in alphabetical order: Cuir végétal (Cr.), Opoponax (Ox.), Osmanthus (Os.), Oud (Od.), Rose (Ro.), and Safran (Sf.).

These fragrances are designed to be layered, and the principle is similar to others’—pair X with Y to darken it or with Z to lighten it. I remember having my mind blown when I first saw a Jo Malone display with this kind of instructions, what feels like a lifetime ago. Funny story: when I first discovered Le Labo, I thought their offerings were intended to be layered as well. I might even have said so out loud. It wasn’t until later that I learned about brands using signature bases in their perfumes.

The Olibanum sample I picked out today without reading the label first was Opoponax (Ox.). This resin is also known as sweet myrrh; in this rendition, it is indeed warm and sweet, even chocolatey in the opening. The brand leaflet states:

An ambery Opoponax brimming with cistus and tonka bean. To wear during a heatwave, when the desert sand clings to your skin.

The joke’s on you, Opoponax! We had giant snowflakes this morning in my corner of the northeastern United States! (Actually, the joke’s on me because I’m having winter in April…)

The cold doesn’t seem to do the scent disservice, though, as the resins are generous with their warmth. I don’t smell the olibanum note very noticeably, but I sense it balancing the composition with lightness. Somehow I’m reminded of Floraïku Between Two Trees, which lists notes of grapefruit, mate, and vetiver. My guess is that the smoky yet round aspect of Opoponax resembles the effect of vetiver. This brings me back to my earlier days of perfume exploration, and that’s a good feeling.

Opoponax neither projects strongly nor overtakes other scents, unlike Safran, which I happened to spray on my wrist out of curiosity—before I saw that the leaflet encourages this pairing (“Use Opoponax‘s spicy streams to awaken Safran“). That one spritz of Safran lasted most of the day, a harsh, metallic note detracting from my cocoon of Opoponax. (Thankfully, it dries down to a calm vanilla later.)

Have you tried Olibanum fragrances? Do you have a favorite perfume featuring frankincense? How are your ups and downs with curiosity toward new perfumes?