12/17/2023
Ropanski2020
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Ropanski2020
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Traces of the unscented
Batavia - this was the name given in the 17th century to the headquarters of the Dutch East India Company on the north-west coast of the island of Java, nowadays better known as Jakarta, the capital and (still) seat of government of the Republic of Indonesia.
For a small Indonesian label based in the Yogyakarta region to name a fragrance in this way is somewhat remarkable, even though the name dates back to well before the colonial era.
Batavia Oud originally arose from the idea of publishing a natural hair serum. Eventually, the idea was scrapped and a perfume was created that olfactorily encapsulated the woody DNA of the serum; the still young perfume brand UCCA had its signature. The transformation from a natural care product to a perfume is not only of historical interest: At the breaking points of such a transformation, the limits and scope of a newly founded brand also emerge visibly at the same time - resulting in an impressive testimony to a different kind of perfumer's art, as would soon become apparent.
At first glance, the way in which the perfumer (Jaka Umbaran) seeks to artfully break open an almost archaic (wood) crust in order to allow the fragrance to develop spectrally is astonishing. Let's not kid ourselves: Batavia Oud smells of wood; of lightly infested, freshly cut wood, but also of old, wet, weathered, already dead and/or processed wood. As a kind of monoculture, matured on long-settled wood cuttings, there is little scope for other nuances. Trained noses will at best recognize sprinkles, firmly embedded or anchored in the wood, like fittings, as connecting elements, so to speak, which complement the original grain.
Cinnamon and leather are added, but only as contouring assistants in the interplay of the wood notes and emphasize their maturation process. The sandalwood is highly concentrated and vaporized spicy-warm, reinforced by the Ceylon cinnamon infusion, it is almost nutty to coconutty-gourmand. Everything is both embedded in and characterized by the dryness of the cedar, which develops heavy oil-like nuances with increasing duration, although it remains unclear to what extent the (plantation) oud used here acts as a mediator or contributor. At least the notes complement each other perfectly, merging into one another - that should be enough, but it doesn't say much about the quality of the selected oud varieties, which should be noted for the sake of completeness.
In principle, it is difficult to convey a picture of a brand's DNA to the uninitiated, and even more difficult to encourage them to break out of their comfort zone in order to convince them to give it a try, as there are other (more exciting) paths to take. Jaka Umbaran has a sense for the special and does not try to share the eternal. She is too fond of depicting reduced spheres of the natural with a tendency towards undisguised abruptness in order to let them fade away soothingly. Lingering on well-trodden paths is almost alien to her (excluding the Cologne du Bois).
Batavia Oud is well suited to the naturalness of its original idea, even without the purchased "organic seal of approval". To a certain extent, the sharp-edged finesse of derailed artisan art escapes from the flacon in an extraordinary way, it is rugged to the point of being brash, flanked by synthetic abstinence. All of this contributes to artfully blending an unfamiliar level that is as desolate and untainted as it is reduced and important at the same time.
There is something grounding and calming about it, something touchingly archaic that lies hidden beneath the leather flacon cap. Something that does not want to be loved and yet wants to be understood - it is simply: Batavia.
For a small Indonesian label based in the Yogyakarta region to name a fragrance in this way is somewhat remarkable, even though the name dates back to well before the colonial era.
Batavia Oud originally arose from the idea of publishing a natural hair serum. Eventually, the idea was scrapped and a perfume was created that olfactorily encapsulated the woody DNA of the serum; the still young perfume brand UCCA had its signature. The transformation from a natural care product to a perfume is not only of historical interest: At the breaking points of such a transformation, the limits and scope of a newly founded brand also emerge visibly at the same time - resulting in an impressive testimony to a different kind of perfumer's art, as would soon become apparent.
At first glance, the way in which the perfumer (Jaka Umbaran) seeks to artfully break open an almost archaic (wood) crust in order to allow the fragrance to develop spectrally is astonishing. Let's not kid ourselves: Batavia Oud smells of wood; of lightly infested, freshly cut wood, but also of old, wet, weathered, already dead and/or processed wood. As a kind of monoculture, matured on long-settled wood cuttings, there is little scope for other nuances. Trained noses will at best recognize sprinkles, firmly embedded or anchored in the wood, like fittings, as connecting elements, so to speak, which complement the original grain.
Cinnamon and leather are added, but only as contouring assistants in the interplay of the wood notes and emphasize their maturation process. The sandalwood is highly concentrated and vaporized spicy-warm, reinforced by the Ceylon cinnamon infusion, it is almost nutty to coconutty-gourmand. Everything is both embedded in and characterized by the dryness of the cedar, which develops heavy oil-like nuances with increasing duration, although it remains unclear to what extent the (plantation) oud used here acts as a mediator or contributor. At least the notes complement each other perfectly, merging into one another - that should be enough, but it doesn't say much about the quality of the selected oud varieties, which should be noted for the sake of completeness.
In principle, it is difficult to convey a picture of a brand's DNA to the uninitiated, and even more difficult to encourage them to break out of their comfort zone in order to convince them to give it a try, as there are other (more exciting) paths to take. Jaka Umbaran has a sense for the special and does not try to share the eternal. She is too fond of depicting reduced spheres of the natural with a tendency towards undisguised abruptness in order to let them fade away soothingly. Lingering on well-trodden paths is almost alien to her (excluding the Cologne du Bois).
Batavia Oud is well suited to the naturalness of its original idea, even without the purchased "organic seal of approval". To a certain extent, the sharp-edged finesse of derailed artisan art escapes from the flacon in an extraordinary way, it is rugged to the point of being brash, flanked by synthetic abstinence. All of this contributes to artfully blending an unfamiliar level that is as desolate and untainted as it is reduced and important at the same time.
There is something grounding and calming about it, something touchingly archaic that lies hidden beneath the leather flacon cap. Something that does not want to be loved and yet wants to be understood - it is simply: Batavia.
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