Sultan Pasha's decision to reformulate Thebes as an alcohol-based Extrait de Parfum marks a significant departure from the oil-based attar tradition that established his reputation. The original Thebes Grade 1 arrived in 2016 as an homage to Guerlain's discontinued Djedi — a fragrance so evocative that Sultan Pasha described it as the only perfume that had brought him close to tears. After months of painstaking recreation, he captured that spectral atmosphere in oil form, creating what became his signature composition.

Nearly a decade later, the 2025 release transforms that intimate, skin-hugging attar into something altogether different. Working alongside Christian Carbonnel under the new Sultan Pasha Perfumes label, the reformulation explores what happens when you translate oil's density and warmth into alcohol's volatility and projection. The result maintains the core narrative — an ancient Egyptian tomb, the boundary between life and death — while fundamentally altering how that story unfolds in space and time.

The composition itself reads like an exercise in controlled opposition. Bright aldehydes and a white floral bouquet of jasmine, muguet, and rose sit against somber, earthy vetiver and the distinctive chalk-like texture of genuine orris butter. Reviewers consistently note this tension: the fragrance is simultaneously luminous and gloomy, uplifting and ritualistic. One detailed review describes waves of heady florals alternating with leather and salty ambergris, creating an animalic, fatty quality that feels deliberately unsettling.

This approach differs markedly from the attar version's intimate revelation. Alcohol-based perfumes diffuse outward, creating a more public presence that transforms the wearer's relationship to the scent. Where the oil version whispered ancient secrets directly to the skin, the Extrait broadcasts them into the surrounding air. The projection reportedly remains strong for the first two hours before settling closer to the body, with longevity hovering around five hours — a relatively modest performance for an Extrait concentration, suggesting the formula prioritizes complexity over sheer endurance.

The move to alcohol represents more than technical reformulation. Sultan Pasha built his reputation through traditional attar craftsmanship, a method that demands patience and precision but limits commercial reach. Attars require direct application, careful storage, and an understanding that comes through experience. By creating alcohol-based versions of his most celebrated works, he opens a door to audiences who might find oil-based perfumes too unfamiliar or demanding.

However, this accessibility comes with artistic risks. The attar community values the medium's contemplative nature — its quiet intensity, its refusal to announce itself beyond the wearer's personal space. Translating that aesthetic into alcohol requires careful calibration to avoid losing what made the original compelling. Based on early responses, Thebes manages this balance by maintaining its strange, funereal atmosphere even as it reaches farther from the skin. The reformulation amplifies certain aspects — particularly the aldehydic brightness and floral lift — while preserving the dusty, ritualistic core that defines the concept.

Sample sets became available for preorder through January 2026, a deliberate strategy that allows serious enthusiasts to experience the full lineup before committing to full bottles. This approach respects the considered, exploratory mindset that characterizes niche perfume appreciation. These are not fragrances designed for casual purchase; they demand time, attention, and a willingness to sit with discomfort. The animalic qualities alone ensure this remains far from mainstream tastes.

What strikes me most about this release is its timing. The niche perfume market has become increasingly crowded, with countless brands claiming artisanal credentials while churning out derivative compositions. Sultan Pasha's move to alcohol could be read as capitulation to commercial pressure, but the execution suggests otherwise. By maintaining Extrait concentration and preserving the challenging, unconventional character of the original work, he signals that accessibility need not mean simplification.

The question now becomes whether this model succeeds — whether audiences accustomed to attars will embrace the reformulations, and whether those new to Sultan Pasha's work will appreciate what makes these fragrances distinctive. Thebes tests that proposition directly, offering a scent that refuses conventional pleasantness in favor of atmospheric depth. It remains to be seen whether the broader market rewards that uncompromising vision or whether the commercial realities of alcohol-based production eventually push toward safer ground.

For now, Thebes in Extrait form exists as a fascinating experiment in translation, asking how much of an attar's soul survives the journey from oil to alcohol. The early evidence suggests more than you might expect, though undoubtedly something irretrievable remains bound to the original medium. What emerges is neither superior nor inferior, but genuinely different — a parallel interpretation that extends the concept rather than simply reproducing it in another format.

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