Or des Indes
Maître Parfumeur et Gantier (1988)

Out of all the perfumes reputed to smell like Shalimar, Or des Indes smells most like Mitsouko. I bought a bottle in Madrid airport on my way back from Cali, shaken after having been strip-searched by Columbian customs agents (pasty Irish chicks apparently being well known for enthusiastically promoting certain Colombian exports via that particular route), and when I got home, I showered and applied this liberally, then lay naked on the bed waiting to a) stop sweating, and b) feel the promised cloud of golden, resinous Shalimar-esque loveliness rise up and envelop my senses, soothing my furrowed brow, etc., etc.

Well, to say I felt cheated out of my happy ending is an understatement. Or des Indes is not the golden, shimmering warm bath of resins I had been led to expect. Rather, thanks to a doughy ‘peach skin’ suede element that is far more root (orris) than resin, Or des Indes is dove grey – delicately bitter, fudgy, and ‘old smelling’, like old wooden furniture dusted off and waxed with saddle soap. Thanks to a recent love affair with Imperial Opoponax (Les Nereides), I have come to identify this doughy, rooty (almost waxy-fudgy) nuance as characteristic of opoponax resin. But because of its herbal, slightly bitter ‘almond’ core, I have stopped perceiving opoponax as a purely golden affair – in truth, it smells more lavender-grey than golden for about two-thirds of its development.

While Imperial Opoponax shakes off this dove grey pallor pretty quickly before sliding into that much-awaited, much-longed-for bath of sultry, balmy, red-gold resinousness that is the final third of opoponax resin, Or des Indes remains firmly attached to its grey, bitter-doughy suede heart for much of the ride. (There is a phantom fruit note bouncing in and out that, combined with the fine cuir accord, contributes much to the Mitsouko impression). To be fair, Or des Indes does eventually loosen up into something that might legitimately be called warm or golden, before completely dying an ignoble death at the four hour mark.

Yep, four hours. That’s all you get, folks. Now, I am no longevidee bore, but paying Maître Parfumeur et Gantier prices for the performance of a Roger et Gallet body spray is deeply unacceptable, and that’s even before you consider that, with Or des Indes, you are basically wearing a half-assed version of Mitsouko or the first 40% of Imperial Opoponax, both scents that cost roughly half of this. Don’t get me wrong – I do quite like Or des Indes. It’s just that when you are expecting gold and get dove grey, it feels like trying to recover your gait after you’ve missed a step on the stairs. You eventually right yourself but for one horribly unsettling moment, the whole world feels off kilter.

Turn back the pages, turn back time, disregard the notes. Or des Indes smells more like a perfume base of a certain vintage, than a fully-fledged creation in its own right. It goes on as powder, old lipstick and older soap, and, as Rogalal aptly puts it, ‘doughy suede' – and there it pretty much stays for me.
Undoubtedly luxurious in feel (it's the creamiest of cuddles) and rich, what it sorely misses is a contrasting note or accord to play against its blanketing nature. An ambery vanilla at heart, the doughy-pasty quality forces it into beige when it would rather be wearing gold.

A powder bomb of WONDROUS delight!

Genre: Floral Oriental

Maître Parfumeur et Gantier rarely does anything by halves, and many of its fragrances are blunt and assertive. Sometimes, as in the cases of Route du Vétiver, Iris Bleu Gris, or Parfum d'Habit, the bold approach is wildly successful. In others, such as Fraîche Passiflore, it is disastrous. Hence I'm surprised to find myself having a hard time pinning down Or des Indes.

By Maître Parfumeur et Gantier standards it is a very meek scent, a saffron-hued floral oriental on a politely sweet vanilla and amber base, one whose volume never seems to rise above mezzo piano. Other reviewers have remarked upon this scent's opopanax content, and where that note is concerned my benchmark fragrances are Shalimar and Diptyque's Eau Lente, neither of which Or des Indes approaches in complexity or character. I recommend either of these in place of Or des Indes, which ultimately disappoints me coming from this house.

Romantic and delicately vintageComplex, in spite of my first impression (at the beginning infact i supposed to "face" a flat and linear white powdery usual cloud). I detect indeed (or suppose to detect) for a while (after a first spray) the olfactory association with Ambre Precieux and with some powdery/talky (bit aldehydic) concoctions a la Heliotrope Etro, Phul-Nana Grossmith or Ambre et Vanille E.Coudray etc etc. Actually the citrus/white musk/lavender/geranium marked presence (plus the rose/incense standout combo) since the top till the dry down turns this scent finally out in to a (for long) more humid and spicy/honeyed, dusty/ethereal and articulated concoction with a sort of airy and vaguely rosey/vintage (yes slightly make up-waxy and mossy/leathery type) and nostalgic temperament, actually closer to l'Heure Bleue, to some mossy/animalic "soapy/neutral" chypre or to some spicy/rosey/honeyed concoctions of the past a la Caron Parfum Sacre. Anyway i detected a great scent which is not just powdery in a linear way but more articulated and humid, floral and hesperidic, more properly changeful and rich of nuances (hesperidic, incensey, rosey, balmy/honeyed and talky). A great take on the nostalgic and romantic side.Pros: ComplexCons: Any "

Powder Or Des Indes by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier opens with a puff of aldehydes and powdery notes and immediately reminds me of Ombre Rose L'Original by Jean Charles Brosseau. Like OR, ODI has a vintage makeup bag vibe and eventually evolves into powdery resins and soft honeyed woods. Touches of lavender, iris, and rose serve to round out this composition. I definitely categorize ODI as a fragrance that smells like vintage makeup and powdered resins; for example, Drole de Rose, L'Heure Bleue, and Chantilly can be considered as sister fragrances. Did I mention that ODE is powdery? :)

A Persian Magic Carpet Ride TVlampboy declared Or des Indes as the elegant richer sister of Bal a Versailles,( but not the older) This is repeated by other enthusiasts on on other blogs. It is spot on. Bal is Zsa Zsa and Or is Eva. I purchased the eau de parfum in my search to replace the Bal in my affections and I am very pleased with Or des Indes EDP. The EDT has drawn criticism for its stickability. Ten hours later this sensational fragrance is clinging to my clothes as if my breton fisherman's jersey was haute couture. Perfume notes are perfectly described in other reviews but I wish to emphasis the understated largesse of this creation. I love Alahine, very similar, but the honey in A is replaced here with the most masterful blending of spice and sandalwood in the drydown I have ever been transported by. I was worried about 'metallic' references, the thing that bothers me in Flora Bella. There are no metallic undertones in the EDP. If you like Bal a Versailles (now just a parody of its former self) and Orientals in general this is a must try. Beautiful bottle, quality spray. Gold standard. Pros: Rich, mellow, Soft, Inspiring and TenaciousCons: Similar to others

I've quite enjoyed getting to know Or Des Indes. I can tell that it's technically a chypre - it's got that fusion that happens when bergamot meets moss - but that's in the background. The main smell is largely methyl ionone, that chemical in Knize Ten and Mitsouko that smells like doughy suede. Aside from the chypre elements, this is also ornamented with a polite amber, that classic "orinetal" smell you get from mixing sandalwood and patchouli, a pinch of powdery poop, and a sweet fruity smell that reminds me of a green version of Mitsouko's peach skin note. It's got an awful lot going on at once, but pulls it off very skillfully. All in all, it smells like a classic French "oriental" perfume like Bal A Versailles with elements of Mitsouko thrown in.

And I guess that's the problem. The biggest sin that Or Des Indes commits is reminding me of perfumes that I like better. Part of it is definitely the concentration - it's kind of timid and I can't help but think that this could positively soar as an extrait. But really, it's got the feel of Bal A Versailles without the epic skank, the bready spiced suede of Knize Ten without the balancing florals, and the doughy peach chypre ingredients of Mitsouko without the magic.

All in all, I still think Or Des Indes is a very good perfume and deserves a thumbs up. I'll gladly take a weak mash-up of Mitsouko and Bal A Versailles over some stupid perfume that smells like a candy flavor. That being said, were I in the mood for something like this, there are 4 or 5 unabashed masterpieces that I'd reach for before Or Des Indes.

What I get out of this fragrance is a bit strange, and I don't identify with what some of the other reviewers are saying. For instance, I don't get any sweet (except the opoponax itself) and I get a bare minimum of citrus out of the opening. My nose is overwhelmed by an unattractive metallic-leathery accord from the start. I get some opoponax, and there are wood and spices, but the whole fragrance has rather metallic-leathery tinges to it in the top notes and, to a lesser amount, in the mid notes. Normally I love opoponax in fragrances–one of my favorite notes. With Or Des Indes the opoponax is muted and leathery–I'd prefer it rich, sweet, and powdery. And while I'm not exactly enamored of metallic accords, I don't remember having such an adverse reaction to them: Maybe it's the particular combination of sandalwood and opoponax that produces that accord that seems so annoying to my nose, or maybe there's some unnamed leather or castoreum in this fragrance. The accords do improve significantly after an hour…they get very pleasant, but they never get really interesting in my opinion; in fact, with the loss of the annoyance, the fragrance becomes soft, powdery; and that's the complete story of the drydown–soft, powdery and lacking in interest. Or Des Indes does have a warm ambiance and it has mild sillage, but my nose catches that irritating background note that is difficult for me to ignore, and the drydown is too passive and lacking in interest.

Originally submitted 06 April 2007

First things first: this should not have been labeled a feminine any more than Mitsouko should have been. In other words, it's thoroughly unisex.This is a strangely appealing concoction of cracked, aged leather, something bitter and medicinal, a dusty, unsweet opoponax and the usual oriental amber-and-vanilla fare. Unapologetically weird, I would call it. Having lately sampled George Sand from this same house, I see some resemblance to that one, only minus the patch. Which is nothing but A Very Good Thing, IMO. I am certain this one will not appeal to everyone, but I shall treasure the tiny amount I have.

Very powdery scent slightly reminiscent to the smell of make-up purse. To me this makes it very feminine oriental in the end, although I agree it could also be worn by men who are not afraid the smell of powder. And lipstick.Ambery oriental full of sweet and warm opoponax and vanilla. Could be a great, distinguished and intoxicating evening wear for the ladies. No more than 2 sprays, thank you.

Bal a Versailles' rich older sister, with opoponax added and more sandalwood for sheer exoticism and more complexity. Also a distant cousin of Shalimar. Truly one of the most beautiful leathery, powdery dry-downs in the fragrance world. Easily unisex -- I have no earthly idea why MPG ever labeled it as a "women's" frag in the first place.