This blend began soon after I settled on the leather accord. From the outset, I wanted a leather rose—aged and dark.

Having learned the combination worked well in Silk Rose, I built a core using Tunisian, Bulgarian, Moroccan, and Turkish roses, balanced around the leather accord. Over time, I started introducing darkening elements to bring the hue down: black ambergris for its deep balsamic, mineral, and slightly powdery facets; and tonka bean for its molasses-like profile. The one I used had a nuance of red fruit leather—sour-sweet, not sugary.

I then added Viet oud for its dark leathery profile. Working from the other end, I sought to amplify that red nuance in the tonka. So came raspberry, lending a lush bridge into the rose heart. After that, I let time do its thing, making only slight iterations.

Rose? Check. Red fruit? Check. Dark base? Check. Leather? Somewhat.

You see, the leather profile I started this blend with is creamy, but it gradually began to feel buried. After weeks of working in that direction, I slowed down the changes. I was somehow stuck.

Then one afternoon, I could smell a strong castoreum-like note even though there was no castoreum anywhere in sight. Is my brain playing tricks on me? I asked myself. Perhaps. But I could already "smell" how it would work in the blend.

Ordering materials to Oman is rarely a simple click, buy, deliver journey given the current circumstances. So I ordered some and waited eagerly. When it finally arrived, it not only fit the blend—it amplified the leather profile I had been chasing and brought the right amount of darkness and animalic character to support the roses.

Later, I added a generous dose of vintage Indian rose (gulab) sourced from a collector's stash of Sultanate Palace oils, which made the red fruit, rose, and leather arrangement feel more coherent alongside the ambergris, tonka, castoreum, and Viet oud.

The final addition was bitter orange. While the raspberry provided a beautiful transition into the rose heart, it needed an introduction of its own. Bitter orange gave exactly that: a bright opening that isn't sweet, leading naturally into the raspberry and the rest of the composition.

Then I realized the structure had already existed in an earlier castoreum composition of mine, one that had split into two directions: raspberry with smoky oud, and another centered around roses and florals. Castore Rouge merges both.

Hopefully, the next castoreum work will take a different path entirely. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one.

Concentrations

Following the Light editions, Castoré Rouge now comes in Light concentration. It sits somewhere between Nightfall Neroli and Civet Prestige in terms of density — which, to my nose, preserves the identity of castoreum and leather as the centerpiece while still offering something lighter for everyday wear. As with the other Light editions, you'll notice a considerable drop in price, making it a good entry point if you're into red-Burgundy leather perfumes.