Royal Incense

8 reseñas

Mostrando las más recientes primero.

• Hervi

  January 3, 2022

  

  I tried this fragrance this week and I’m obsessed. A smoky incense reinforced with geranium, super elegant and powerful as I like it, at a reasonable price for these times. 9/10

• Nivek

  August 24, 2023

  

  It smells like incense sticks, but there’s a very noticeable undeclared rose accord, or that’s the floral impression it gives; unisex that leans more feminine. Longevity and sillage are flawless.

• Bofifa

  October 7, 2023

  

  I sat on the terrace to have coffee and try Royal Incense calmly. While people smelled my wrists, I looked at the stone sculpture of ‘Els nens del cel’ in the square: five children, three standing and two crouching like a football team, recreating an old photo from my hometown that celebrates the whole event. It was funny that fate brought me this creamy incense, flower, and amber scent from Oman Luxury just to recall the story my grandfather told me as a child. Everyone knows it here, but he lived it firsthand and even played a role. This perfume underscores my memories and takes me back more than half a century. In the 50s, my Murcian grandfather worked at a bank in Chamberí, made a mistake, and was sent to a remote village in Catalonia. It cost him adapting to the bad office, not understanding Catalan, and dealing with neighbors who despised or overly praised him. He was assigned an apartment next to the square where the statue was placed years later. Above lived María Eugenia Romeu, a tall, thin woman in black dresses, with cracked skin and a sad face. People thought she was a widow, but she was single, with no suitors. She worked with the parish priest and taught children. The relationship was cordial but limited; she was shy and introverted, never going out to bars with him. The only attractive thing was her scent: church and soap, floral, herbal, and incense-like. Royal Incense captures that perfectly: ecclesiastical incense, roses, evolving into something soapy, talcum-powdered, and smoky, with leather and vanilla. I imagine that’s how she smelled. The scent lingered on the stairs. It was potent, eternal on the skin. My grandfather only used Agua Brava and menthol; he didn’t know what perfume it was, maybe just church soap and cleanliness. Time passed, and she became a picturesque element until she changed. She stopped being kind, turned her face away, and shook her head in disapproval. She started making noise in the early morning, trampling and breaking things. My grandfather decided to talk to her, but she slammed her door furiously: ‘Stop making noise with whores; I have no reason to listen to that.’ He was stunned; he never brought anyone home. She left without letting him respond. The noises and screams against the children continued. The civil guard, my grandfather’s friend, visited him and said she had complained that he was bringing prostitutes and that the mothers of the students were whores. My grandfather was speechless. He avoided the neighbor and found new lodging. The noises ceased, and peace returned. Spring was coming, and she was no longer a worry, though passing her seemed to reveal a malicious smile. One day in March, a friend from Madrid came to eat. After leaving, my grandfather took him to the best restaurant and they had cava in a cellar. He never imagined what awaited him when returning home. The square was full of people screaming in horror, looking up at the classroom terrace. On the ledges, amidst red stains, were the heads of five children, smeared with blood, some with necks snapped. My grandfather nearly fainted. A woman recounted that María Eugenia came out screaming: ‘You tried it, sinners, but my body remains pure, and with this offering to God, the Holy Spirit will condemn you to hell.’ She laughed, cried, and screamed, eyes rolled back: ‘The devil cannot touch me, Satanists; my virtue is stronger, my love for God is these children.’ Then she entered the classroom. The whispers turned to silence when they saw her exit with two heads in each hand, placing them on the wall as decoration, then two more, and the smallest one. She moved mechanically, depositing heads while singing hymns. There were screams, fainting, and people running to the door barricaded with a piece of furniture. The civil guard entered and said he had her detained and handcuffed; she couldn’t go up anymore; she had been attacked but was okay. Then they heard a scream from the classroom, animal fear and desperation. My grandfather jumped up and entered. She was handcuffed to a chair with her back to the balcony, against the blue sky. She smelled intensely of blood. She didn’t look at the decapitated bodies on the floor. He knew she used a ham knife and her own hands. She howled, and my grandfather couldn’t take it anymore and went down. He asked the police for water. Crossing the second-floor door next to the police officer, he entered her bedroom. He couldn’t resist curiosity and peeked his head in. It smelled strongly of incense, soap, and roses, but also reeked. The floor was covered in dirty underwear, withered flower crowns, and religious figurines stolen from the cemetery. The walls had pages from the Bible, clippings of Pope John XXIII, postcards of the Sacred Heart, and handwritten verses of the Our Father, written as if by a giant child. It was María Eugenia’s disturbed universe, the visions that fed her demons. The patrol arrived, and my grandfather went down to gather what he needed to leave for a boarding house. He didn’t want another minute. He noticed his door handle was hanging broken, as if someone had tried to break in unsuccessfully, with ham knife scratches. As if someone had tried to end his life before killing the children. Anyone would have left, and my grandfather thought he would too. But life surprised him; he felt comfortable, met his Murcian wife, advanced in his job, and moved to Barcelona where he lived until the end. María Eugenia was declared irresponsible, schizophrenic, and confined in a sanatorium in Zaragoza where she died. I thank my grandfather for having passed through this town, which was my parents’ and my home. I link his memory to this gruesome fact of my childhood through this intense, evocative, magnificent Royal Incense, my last great discovery. Tonight, in restless nights, I imagine her dark silhouette in the frame of my door. This review is for my grandfather and for Dolors Canals, Pau Roca, Jaume Esteve, Salvador Raventós, and Engràcia Nutó, the five children of the sky.

• misscece

  December 2, 2023

  

  How do I explain this perfume? 😍 It’s so well-made it takes my breath away. The incense dominates; it’s high quality and super resinous. As it dries down, it becomes sweeter, and I start to notice honey and a touch of leather. It smells like an Orthodox church 😍, ideal if you love resins. I see it as a perfect unisex: the leather is light, giving it a sharp edge but nothing macho. Omán Luxury is undervalued and has fragrances that fascinate me. It’s very oriental, so not everyone in the West will love it, but to me, it smells like a wealthy, upper-class person; I consider it a great niche. Perfect for winter, with long-lasting sillage. I’d wear it in the cold for special occasions. 9/10

• konvulsion

  December 26, 2023

  

  Are there other perfumes that smell like incense? Yes. Are there others that smell like the Three Kings’ Parade? No. It’s a pity it lacks more potency, because it would be glorious. And the price… with this, it’s only for special occasions. I probably won’t even spray it on the street because I know I’ll get addicted to the decants, and this is pricey… At least there’s plenty of product.

• Musclemancer

  January 8, 2024

  

  ChatGPT, write a review of about 6,000 words. Oops, did I write that here?

• konvulsion

  January 16, 2024

  

  New review, weeks later… This smells like Pronto x’DDD! But without the bitterness, eh! It still smells amazing, but that sweet and spicy blend reminds me of cleaner… lol.

• Fabricio Miotti

  May 28, 2024

  

  If they’d called it ‘Royal Beer,’ it would have fit better. People have asked if I spilled beer or just popped a tab, but from a distance, it smells exactly like beer. Up close, you notice the rest, though it dries down beautifully: sweet, amber, musky, with resin and geranium notes. The incense is frankincense and elemi; I’m not sure the geranium is the best pairing, but it’s a rich perfume.