If The Night were a colour, it would be a bronze burnished to the point that it starts looking crimson.
If it were a piece of music, it would be Al Awela Fel Gharam by Umm Kulthum.
If it were a place, it would be the Deira-side of the abra crossing alongside Dubai Creek, circa 1986.
About two weeks ago, when I posted my list of the best perfumes of 2016, I hinted at the sense of frustration that's experienced when you don't manage to wear and test a praiseworthy scent close to its original release date. Given the number of new fragrances churned out each year, this is becoming an increasing problem and, as Luca Turin said, "from the standpoint of somebody who's interested in fragrance" the current state of affairs is "the stuff of nightmares". The predicament probably has no solution. Unless your name is Michael Edwards, it simply isn't possible to smell - let alone evaluate - all new fragrances. But that doesn't make the annoyance any easier to bear when you do come across a gem which should have received all the kudos and adoration that are bestowed on the contents of people's 'best of' lists. These are the thoughts that were high on my mind when I finally got to spend some quality time with Dominique Ropion's The Night for Frederic Malle.