Around fifteen to thirty minutes on the skin, the oil begins to show another side. The darkness starts to soften, a beautiful powderiness develops, and the profile becomes increasingly floral. At moments I find traces that remind me of both Cambodian and Ceyloni oud, yet underneath it all, the identity remains distinctly Filipino.
There is no barnyard character, no fermented smell and no unnecessary animalic harshness. It is clean oud, with depth coming from the wood itself.
Over the years I have distilled Filipino oud myself, and I would never compare this oil by saying it is better than my own distillations. It is simply different. Interestingly, I have found that some Arab oud lovers are especially drawn to this one. People who understand old Malaysian and Cambodian oils often appreciate its darker, heavier structure.
Today, what makes this oil particularly special to me is the material behind it.
The quality of Leyte wood available during that period was different. These were old, heavily resinous pieces from a time when extraordinary Filipino material was still being found. Even if I wanted to reproduce this exact profile today, I don’t believe I could.
Not because I couldn’t reproduce the distillation.
Because I couldn’t reproduce the wood.
And once that wood disappears, the scent it carried disappears with it.