I love oud, but friends say I use too much. How can I stop overdoing it?

Photograph by Shaw + Shaw

As oud lovers, we knew there were days we might very well be the culprits he had in mind. It’s a topical gripe – oud is hot right now. Bottega Veneta, Creed, Amouage, Maison Crivelli… The recent and upcoming launch lists speak to the moment. But like most “overnight” trends, its origins stretch back millennia. In this case to ancient Arabia, India and Southeast Asia, where it was burned in temples, swirled through royal courts and traded at prices that made gold look cheap.

Today, this sacred, rarefied ingredient lives on every luxury fragrance counter. I call it the smell of wealth, yet recently I’ve noticed it everywhere on everyday people doing everyday (and not so everyday) things, from buying a pain au chocolat at Pret to dancing at a fashion party at Tramp. Whether that’s glorious or ghastly depends entirely on the wearer and the quality of their oud.

The great oud divide splits cleanly down the middle: you either swoon at its intoxicating depth or recoil from its punch. Because, to be fair, it is punchy. And smoky. And intense. Hence, western brands creating fragrance for the global perfume market often “soften” it with rose or some other kind of floral – a move that can sometimes feel a bit Jamie-Oliver’s-jerk-rice: cultural appreciation with one eye on western palates. Whatever your stance, wrongly or rightly, it’s worked (unlike Jamie’s rice) and oud is now a global player, even if purists argue that much of it isn’t actually “real” oud at all.

Personally, in an ideal (and less expensive) world, I like my oud in its OG state – pure, undiluted, unapologetic. I first fell for it years ago, catching a whiff from a group of stunning Arab women gliding past Selfridges. I was transfixed. There’s something mysterious, magical, marvellous – and, yes, fabulously rich – about wearing good-quality oud. But here’s the key: restraint. A little goes a long way. Never douse. With oud, the goal is to intrigue, not asphyxiate. One comment under that “Stop Abusing Arabic Fragrances” post summed it up perfectly: “Oud users – if we can smell you around the corner you are using it wrong. It’s supposed to be dabbed behind the ears and on the wrists only. It’s not supposed to be burning the nasal hair out of our nostrils.” Take note – your fellow humans will thank you.

Go with the glow For glowy, hydrated skin, I’ve always preferred body oils over lotions. The issue was they’d rub off on clothes, leaving you grubby before you’d even left the house. Uni’s oil is different. Packed with minerals, antioxidants, and hydrators, it moisturises without greasiness. I haven’t used it long enough to confirm whether Golden Microalgae firms and contours, but what I do know is that it didn’t leave my top with weird stains that struggle to come out in the wash. Uni Body Oil Golden Microalgae Body Oil, £48, SpaceNK

Blush with fame It shouldn’t matter that a celebrity is behind a brand, but it does. Historically, they’ve been lazy – poor formulas, pointless launches, obvious money grabs. Thankfully, things are shifting: consumers demand better and brands have to deliver. And Rare Beauty, founded by Selena Gomez, absolutely does. I’m hooked on their soft matte blushes. The rich pigment, creamy-powdery texture, hydrating feel, extensive shades last all day. Rare Beauty Soft Pinch Matte Bouncy Blush, £26, Sephora

Deep clean I get endless questions about serums, retinol, and even neck creams (please don’t). But cleansers? Rarely – yet they’re the foundation of any skincare routine. If you’re not cleansing properly, everything that follows is less effective. So a great one matters. Youth To The People’s papaya-infused cleanser is the best I’ve tried in ages – thick gel texture, gently exfoliating, brightening, hydrating and, above all, leaves skin properly clean. Youth to the People Superfruit Gentle Exfoliating Cleanser, £38, Look Fantastic