takemetorio

Paragon feels calm and grounded. It opens fresh and slightly spicy, clean without being sharp, like taking a deep breath and slowing down. Nothing jumps out or tries too hard. As it settles, it becomes smoother and more herbal, almost meditative. There’s a quiet warmth underneath, but it never turns sweet or heavy. It just stays balanced. On me it feels steady and reassuring. Not a statement scent, more something I wear when I want clarity and composure. Easy, elegant, and very wearable.

Psychedelic Love feels vivid and sensory from the first breath. The opening is bright and electrified, with a mix of citrus and pink pepper that feels almost kaleidoscopic — like color turning into sound. It doesn’t ease you in; it pulls you forward. As it evolves, a lush floral-fruity heart emerges with juicy facets that are bold but never flat. There’s a synthetic shimmer that gives it a dreamlike quality — think glossy berries and lush, sweet blooms, but with an energetic pulse rather than syrupy thickness. The base of amber, musk, and warm woods keeps it anchored, giving the brightness weight and longevity without losing that vibrant feel. On my skin it reads expressive, lively, and unmistakably modern — a scent that feels like vivid emotion in motion rather than something quiet or traditional. Psychedelic Love is high-voltage, playful, and unapologetically alive — perfect if you want a fragrance that feels expressive, bold, and a little bit electric.

Addictive Vibration hits like a charged pulse rather than a gentle wave. The opening is immediate and dynamic – sharp, clean citrus with an energetic edge, like flipping on a bright light in a quiet room. It doesn’t ease you in; it puts you right where it wants you. Moments later, a synthetic floral brightness and airy metallic facets emerge, giving it an almost electric quality. That combination of crisp citrus with a shimmering heart creates a sensation that feels alive, modern, and a little edgy rather than soft or cozy. The base leans into a smooth musk and warm amber, which grounds the early sparkle without dulling it. The result is a scent that stays vivid and present on the skin, moving between sharp clarity and gentle warmth without ever becoming dull or predictable. On me it feels energetic and confident – not sweet or sensual in the traditional sense, but more like high voltage elegance. It’s the kind of fragrance that feels modern and alive, perfect if you want something that feels instantly engaging and distinctly characterful.

Narcotic Delight opens with intense, resinous spice and smoky warmth that feels bold and magnetic rather than soft. There’s an immediate richness that draws you in - dark, warm, and slightly addictive. The spice never feels one-dimensional; it has a smoky, almost incense-like texture that gives it depth from the first moment. As it evolves, sweet balsamic and resinous notes emerge, wrapped in amber and musk that make the entire scent feel velvety and luxurious. The sweetness here isn’t playful - it’s deep and enveloping, like a warm, plush fabric rather than candy. The woods and resins keep everything grounded, so the warmth stays serious and composed rather than sweet or light. On my skin it feels intimate and intense - something you sense as much as smell. Narcotic Delight isn’t simple or linear; it moves around you with quiet power. It’s a perfume that feels like a mood rather than just a fragrance: bold, warm, and undeniably addictive. A little goes a long way.

Dalika opens with a gentle spice and a touch of crisp green freshness - not loud, but noticeable like the first breath of something intriguing. The spice adds personality without overwhelming, giving it a calm but interesting start. As it settles, a tender floral heart appears with a soft powderiness that keeps things elegant rather than sweet or heavy. It never feels sugary - the florals are restrained and clean, with a quiet sophistication. The drydown leans into warm woods and light musk, giving it a smooth, comforting presence that stays close to the skin. On me it feels composed and understated yet refined - not loud or showy, but quietly confident. Dalika works beautifully when you want a fragrance that feels polished and calm, with just enough character to be memorable.

Oro 1920 is warm, dry, and meticulously balanced - a scent that feels elegant rather than indulgent. It opens with bright citrus and a whisper of spice that feels like sunlight on warm stone, not a sugary shimmer. The body unfolds into a gentle amber and golden floral core that keeps it luxurious without turning sweet or sticky. Where Oro 1920 really wins is the drydown - amber, woods, and dry musk settle into something calm, refined, and quietly long-lasting. The richness is present, but it’s never loud. It feels like well-cut gold rather than gold leaf - understated, poised, and timeless. On my skin it reads confident and composed - warm without heaviness, radiant without glow, and more textured than sweet.

Siracusa feels crisp, dry, and deliberate. The citrus at the start is sharp and sunlit, but never juicy or playful - more like peel and rind than fruit. It gives an immediate sense of heat and brightness without sweetness. As it settles, subtle herbal and mineral nuances appear, adding structure and a slightly salty, windswept character. It stays airy and composed, avoiding the usual “fresh cologne” path. Nothing turns creamy or cozy. The drydown is clean woods and restrained musk, keeping the scent elegant and uncluttered. On me, Siracusa feels precise and calm - a warm-weather fragrance for someone who wants clarity and polish, not softness or charm.

Contessa doesn’t flirt - it observes. It opens cool and refined, with a smooth iris-led powderiness that feels polished rather than soft. There’s a floral presence, but it’s restrained, almost aloof, giving the scent a composed, aristocratic posture instead of warmth. As it develops, a subtle sweetness appears, shaped by vanilla and clean musks, but everything stays tightly held together. Nothing blooms wildly, nothing spills over. The powder becomes warmer, more skin-like, and quietly intimate, without losing its structure. What I appreciate about Contessa is its discipline. It feels elegant without trying to charm, feminine without softness, confident without force. On me it reads calm, precise, and slightly distant - the kind of fragrance that feels appropriate when you want to look impeccable and remain untouched.

Thick, sweet, and indulgent, like coffee soaked in sugar rather than brewed for bitterness. It’s dense and gourmand, almost sticky in feel, and that’s exactly what makes it so satisfying. I wouldn’t overspray it, but in small doses it works surprisingly well at work for me (but maybe it's good we don't work together!): comforting, cozy and quietly addictive, like an afternoon coffee kick with dessert.

What I love most about Abu Dhabi is the way the spice feels alive, like you are literally on a spice bazaar in the high sun of Middle East, not sharp or aggressive. On my skin, the saffron and warm spices don’t announce themselves - they radiate. It’s that dry, golden kind of spice, like warm air over stone, not kitchen spice or sweetness. It immediately gives the fragrance depth and soul. There’s a moment early on where the spice feels almost mineral, slightly dusty, blending into the warmth rather than sitting on top of it. That’s where it really gets me. It doesn’t feel decorative; it feels embedded in the scent, like part of the landscape. The florals that follow don’t soften it too much - they smooth the edges, but the spice stays present, steady, confident. As it dries down, the spice melts into amber and woods, but it never disappears. It becomes quieter, more intimate, like warmth held close to the skin. That’s why I love Abu Dhabi so much: the spice isn’t there to impress, it’s there to ground. It makes the fragrance feel sensual, calm, and deeply reassuring - something I wear when I want to feel centered, warm, and completely myself.

Yasat opens with a clean, airy brightness - think citrus and a gentle marine breeze - but it never feels like a sharp aquatic. There’s a smooth juiciness to the opening that feels refreshing rather than cold, like a soft morning wind over warm sand. As it develops, the heart brings in soft florals and a subtle, creamy warmth that keeps the fresh notes from feeling thin. It’s balanced in a way that never loses energy, yet never becomes overwhelming. In the drydown, amber, musk, and soft woods give it quiet depth. The warmth settles in gently, so what started fresh and light evolves into a calm, inviting presence that stays close to the skin. For me, Yasat feels like fresh comfort - bright and uplifting at first, then steady and warm without drama. It’s easy to wear anywhere, from everyday moments to relaxed evenings, and it stays tasteful without screaming for attention.

Narcotico isn’t just a scent, it’s a state. Meo Fusciuni built it around the idea of dependence, altered perception, and surrender, and you feel that immediately. This isn’t a linear perfume - it moves like a slow descent. The opening feels dark and almost intoxicating, with boozy, resinous warmth that immediately blurs the edges. There’s sweetness, but it’s shadowy, as if you’re not meant to fully trust it. It sets the tone: this is about losing clarity, not brightness. As it develops, tobacco and balsamic resins take over, thick and enveloping. This is the heart of the story - the narcotic phase. Time feels slower here. Everything is dense, sticky, and immersive, like being suspended in a dim room filled with smoke and warm air. It’s sensual, but also unsettling in a quiet way. The drydown doesn’t resolve neatly. Woods and resins cling to the skin, lingering and intimate, refusing to fully let go. It feels obsessive, introspective, almost confessional - a perfume about staying too long in a feeling because it’s too powerful to leave. That’s why I love Narcotico so much. It’s not meant to be worn casually or to please. It’s emotional, heavy, and uncompromising - a fragrance that tells a story of desire, loss of control, and comfort found in darkness. One of those rare scents that feels honest, even when it’s uncomfortable.

This one hits differently. What stands out immediately is the contrast: a vivid, almost electric passion fruit (maracuja) note that feels tart, juicy, and alive - not sweet in a polite way, but sharp and mouth-watering. It creates tension right away, because underneath it you sense the oud waiting, dark and resinous, adding gravity without turning animalic or harsh. As the fragrance develops, that fruity brightness doesn’t disappear - it’s softened and shaped by subtle florals and spice, giving it dimension rather than chaos. The oud becomes more present here: smoky, smooth, and slightly leathery, acting as an anchor so the fruit never turns playful or trivial. In the base, amber, vanilla, and woods take over, rounding everything into a warm, velvety finish. The sweetness calms down, the oud feels deeper and more grounded, and the whole composition becomes surprisingly elegant after such a bold start. What I love is the push and pull. Fresh versus dark. Juicy versus dense. Oud Maracuja feels daring but controlled - not an easy crowd-pleaser, but incredibly satisfying if you like contrast and personality in your fragrances. It keeps your attention all the way through.

Reinvented Lucid Dream opens with a rich fruity-spice trio - plum, raspberry and saffron - that gives it a jammy yet poised start. The plum brings a darker, velvety fruitiness, the raspberry adds a bright juiciness, and saffron weaves through both to add warmth and a slightly exotic edge. In the heart, saffron blossom continues to glow alongside rose and white blossoms. The flowers soften the fruit and spice without making it floral in a traditional sense; instead they create a shimmering, slightly creamy layer that feels elegant and suspended. The base is where this really settles into something grounded and tactile: sandalwood, patchouli, and oud form a warm, woody foundation that keeps the sweeter top from wandering into candy territory. The result is a drydown that feels mature, subtle, and gently embracing. What I personally love is how the notes work as a narrative. The fruity-spice opening feels alive and intriguing, the floral heart adds balance and texture, and the woody-oud base gives it staying power and depth. It’s not loud - it’s thoughtful and layered, like a dream that’s vivid but calm, never chaotic. It’s the kind of scent you appreciate more the longer you wear it.

Opens with a fresh, bright top where bergamot and lemon mix with warm saffron - that saffron gives a slightly golden spice that makes the brightness feel luxurious rather than sharp. In the heart, palo santo introduces a resinous woodiness that feels earthy and slightly smoky, while myrrh brings a sweet, balsamic depth. Ylang-ylang rounds this trio with a creamy floral touch that never turns overtly sweet or perfumey - instead it makes the middle feel warm and enveloping. The drydown is where the fragrance settles into its signature calm warmth: vanilla, amber, sandalwood, and benzoin create a base that feels soft, slightly sweet, and resinous, like a warm, rich memory. This blend gives the scent a grounded, almost meditative quality that stays close but noticeable. What I personally feel: Unlike fragrances that announce themselves loudly, Just Before feels internal - like an atmosphere you wear rather than broadcast. The creamy, warm base makes it comforting, while the resin-wood heart gives it character and a hint of mystery. It’s one of those scents that feels thoughtful and layered, perfect for moments when you want something elegant and quietly expressive rather than flashy or overly sweet.

Moroccan Medjool works on me because it’s rich without being pushy. The date note is front and center - dense, ripe, almost chewy - but it’s immediately lifted by a flash of citrus and a hint of cardamom, so it never feels heavy or syrupy. That contrast is what makes the opening addictive. As it develops, florals slip in quietly - rose, jasmine, ylang - not to decorate, but to soften the sweetness and give it warmth and texture. Nothing turns pretty or sugary. The drydown is where it really settles into itself: cashmere woods, oakmoss, amber, vanilla, and caramel holding everything in place, calm and grounded. What I love is how complete it feels. Sweet, but serious. Comforting, but structured. It wears close, lasts well, and never loses its balance. Moroccan Medjool doesn’t try to charm - it simply stays with you (exceptional longevity), warm and assured, and that’s exactly why I keep reaching for it.

Caspian Cherry opens with a rich, ripe cherry note that isn’t candy-sweet - more like dark cherries lightly warmed than sugary jam. Beneath that fruitiness there’s a smooth warmth from subtle spices and a touch of resin that keeps it from feeling one-dimensional. As it develops, creamy woods and a soft amber base emerge, rounding out the fruit with warmth and a calm, polished texture. Feels rich and composed rather than loud or juvenile. The cherry stays juicy but grown-up, grounded by warmth and depth that make it feel elegant. It’s the kind of scent you can wear casually or let it carry you into evening with quiet confidence.

Widian Sahara is one of those scents that feels right from the first moment - warm, golden, and beautifully balanced. It opens with saffron and subtle citrus that never feels sharp, just bright and warm, like a sunrise over sand. There’s a gentle spice underneath that keeps it interesting without ever feeling heavy. As it settles, rose and orange blossom come forward and give the heart a soft floral warmth that’s elegant, not cloying. It keeps the composition from being one-dimensional and gives it a refined, luminous quality. The drydown is where Sahara really shines for me: amber and vanilla blend with cedar and musk into something smooth, calm, and quietly comforting. It’s warm and embracing but never sticky sweet or dense. What I love most about Sahara is how easy it is - it feels luxurious without pomp, and you can wear it in almost any setting and it just fits. It’s warm, composed, and feels very personal rather than attention-seeking.

Ishq feels very me from the first spray, and it’s a big reason I keep coming back to Anfas. On my skin, the opening saffron and jasmine feel golden and smooth, not sharp - warm, almost glowing, like the scent already knows where it’s going. There’s something immediately reassuring about it, rich but controlled. As it develops, the raspberry and amber come through and this is where I really fall for it. The fruit isn’t sugary or loud; it’s soft, slightly tart, wrapped in amber warmth that feels sensual and calm at the same time. It gives the perfume an emotional pull - cozy, but not sleepy. The drydown is where Ishq truly settles into my skin. The powdery talc so smooths everything out!, and the oakmoss adds a quiet earthiness that keeps it elegant and grounded. It stays close, intimate, and polished - never demanding attention, yet always present. What I love most is how balanced it feels. Sweet, warm, slightly powdery, but never heavy. It’s not just a perfume I wear - it’s one I trust. And honestly, it reinforces why Anfas is a house I adore.

Trajan makes me feel put together the moment I spray it. There’s an initial spark of spice that feels crisp and confident, then it smooths out into something warm, slightly leathery, and quietly powerful. On my skin it doesn’t rush or shout - it settles in, steady and composed, like it knows exactly what it’s doing. I get a sense of structure and calm strength rather than drama. It’s the kind of scent I’d wear when I want to feel grounded, capable, and a little untouchable - not to impress, but to remind myself who’s in control.