The second in Sarah Baker’s trilogy of oud fragrances composed by Chris Maurice and containing three particular notes, cypriol, orange blossom, and natural oud. In naming the fragrance Loudo, a clever wordplay conjoining the Latin word for play (Ludo) with the word oud, we can largely decipher the premise for this release to be that of a cheeky wink from the brand and perfumer. It’s all about having fun; that includes the childish fun of one’s formative years as well as the sensual kind of fun we enjoy as adults. This is certainly a playful concoction, dreamt up by the Willy Wonka of Oud, and containing notes of white chocolate and cherry as well as the aforementioned materials. The result is a dreamy, semi-gourmand creation where oud plays dress up, imbuing into the creation all its chocolatey goodness, while the vanilla ensures it smells just like a milky bar with a fruity cherry ripple running through it. Follow me on Instagram: @TheScentiest Cheeky, fun, yummy and grown up - it’s not too sweet - it’s just really very lovely.
Sarah Baker Loudo is a fragrance that seems to exist in two separate realities on my skin. On one wrist, it's all about comfort and nostalgia - musty, creamy expired chocolate milk powder that somehow still manages to be utterly delicious. It's like stumbling upon a forgotten tin in the back of a childhood cupboard, the scent enveloping you with a sweetness that's both familiar and slightly off-kilter. (Probably because of the time-traveling aspect to procure it.) But turn to the other wrist, and suddenly the ground shifts wildly beneath your feet. Here, Loudo reveals its feral side - pungent and fermented, with an earthy leather primal weirdness and a smoky tang that catches in your throat. It's as if time itself has soured and shifted, transforming innocent memories into something into something visceral and unrestrained. The contrast is jarring, yet oddly compelling. I find myself sniffing compulsively, trying to reconcile these two facets of Loudo. Is it a sweet reminder of what I was, or a glimpse into the strange beast my past has become? Perhaps it's both, a scented reminder of how our memories ferment and mutate, leaving us with something barely recognizable yet undeniably part of us.