Journal Notes:

I wanted to explore an oceanic scent again after Ocean Kinam. This time, the focus shifts more heavily toward the scent of the sea itself: seaweed, salt, and seashells.

I brought in onycha for its dry, marine-animalic mineral facet, along with sage and yuzu. But I went a step further, developing a process to tease out saline facets from Mysore sandalwood. The result is a creamy, dense sandalwood with a natural salinity that sits perfectly alongside onycha and seaweed. I then supplemented the composition with black cardamom and beeswax, creating a bridge into what follows — an assortment of eight ouds:

Here is what will be in your bottle: Aceh, Pahang, Prachin, Khanh Hoa, Hong Kong, Iriani, and a vintage Tarakan oud.

Why so many ouds — eight of them? Isn’t that too much? There are two parts to my answer.

First, the role of oud here is perhaps different from what some might expect. In many compositions, oud is used as the focal point — something bold, dominant, and immediately recognizable. Here, I am using it differently. Most of the ouds in this blend come from regions whose profiles naturally lean green, woody, earthy, herbal, and resinous. Those qualities allow them to connect naturally with the yuzu, sage, black cardamom, seaweed, and onycha.

Rather than standing apart from those materials, the ouds weave themselves through them. The green facets of Pahang, the earthy depth of Tarakan and Iriani, the dry structure of Prachin, the leathery darkness of Khanh Hoa, and the floral lift of Aceh all reinforce different parts of the composition. The result is not an "oud perfume" in the traditional sense, but a scent where oud acts as connective tissue, linking the marine, herbal, spicy, and woody elements into a more coherent whole.

Second, customers' noses. As my customer base has grown, I wanted to offer something for the more discerning oud enthusiasts. There is certainly enough oud here to appreciate and explore, but I was careful not to let it dominate the composition. The goal was never to overwhelm the marine character, but to support it. If anything, the oud serves the oceanic theme rather than the other way around.

For those who enjoy examining a blend layer by layer, the ouds are there to discover. For everyone else, they simply contribute to the atmosphere: green, salty, woody, and quietly expansive. If you're after a dialed up oud note, you can get your bottle topped up with a few choices available as add-ons.

I contemplated making this blend a standalone, one take. But each time I test it and trace the scent trail it offers, new ideas emerge. So, I decided to reserve part of the batch for a different take—an Oceanic Chypre, or even Rose. We'll see.

A needed update...

Even after bottling it, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was still more to uncover. So I returned to the drawing board, sourced additional oud, yuzu, and onycha, and reworked the composition. The goal was simple: to let the yuzu shine a little brighter and sweeter, while making its transition into the oud heart feel effortless.

Throughout this process, I remained true to the core identity of the blend and the prominent notes and materials presented on the label. Additional materials were introduced not to change its direction, but to refine the composition and bring it closer to the expression I had envisioned from the beginning.

Those changes increased the cost of the blend considerably, but it was not a difficult decision to make at all. I'd much rather release something I'm genuinely happy with than settle for something that simply met the original plan. Looking back, I'm glad I trusted that instinct.

The creative process often reminds me of watching a painting evolve. At first, it feels complete—ready to leave the studio. Then, after living with it for a while, you begin to notice possibilities that weren't visible before. You stay in for the ride. Sometimes those changes reshape the entire work. Take a look at this mesmerizing work of Duan Keiser