Raghba EDP

This works if you want every person within a 6-foot radius to know you're wearing perfume. Lattafa Raghba is a vanilla and caramel bomb that projects like it's being launched from a cannon. I wore it to brunch on a Saturday in October and got three comments before I'd finished my coffee. The rose and praline in the middle give it just enough complexity to keep it from smelling like straight frosting, but barely.

Let me be clear: this is not a subtle fragrance. It lasts 11+ hours on my skin and projects aggressively for the first 6. I tested it during a 70-degree day and it was borderline suffocating. Save this for genuine cold weather when you need something that cuts through wool coats and scarves. My aunt Maria would call this 'too much perfume for daytime' and she'd be right.

The value proposition is insane. You're getting niche-level performance at drugstore prices, which explains why half of fragrance TikTok is obsessed with it. The oud and sandalwood in the base keep it from going full teenage candy store, but this is still firmly in gourmand territory. If you love sweet fragrances and want something that announces your presence, it's efficient. If you prefer anything remotely office-appropriate, next.

This is what happens when someone decides vanilla extract needs to be a perfume and throws in some oud for good measure. Lattafa Raghba smells like the most expensive bakery in Dubai had a baby with a luxury candle store. I've worn it six times over the past month, and let me be clear: this thing projects like it has something to prove. We're talking 4+ feet for the first three hours, then it settles into a 2-foot bubble that lasts until you shower it off the next morning.

The vanilla-caramel opening is so intense it made my yia-yia ask if I was carrying cookies in my purse. But here's the thing that surprised me: after the initial sugar rush, the oud and sandalwood actually show up to balance things out. It's still sweet, but it develops this warm, almost smoky quality that keeps it from being pure dessert. I wore it to a November dinner and got three compliments before the appetizers arrived.

For $35, the performance is genuinely insane. I tested this next to a $200 niche vanilla that died after four hours while Raghba was still going strong at hour nine. Is it subtle? Absolutely not. Will you smell like a human confection? Yes. But if you want a cold-weather fragrance that announces your presence and stays announced, this delivers exactly what it promises.

Look, I need to be honest with you — Lattafa Raghba smells like someone melted down every Quality Street in the tin and decided that was a perfectly reasonable thing to spray on yourself. And you know what? Sometimes it genuinely is. I wore this to a Christmas party last year and got more compliments than I'd received since... well, since I started wearing fragrances that cost more than a round at the pub. The projection is absolutely mental — I'm talking 'people asking if there's a bakery nearby' levels of throw. After eight hours, my flatmate could still smell it on my jacket hanging in the hallway.

The thing is, this fragrance has all the subtlety of a Gary Neville tackle. It opens with this vanilla-caramel assault that makes Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille look restrained, then just... stays there. For eleven hours. The oud and sandalwood are supposed to add some sophistication, but they're basically trying to have a conversation while someone's hoovering — you know they're there, but good luck hearing them over the sugar rush.

Here's the brief though: at fifteen quid, this thing delivers performance that would make Creed nervous. It's not versatile (wear this to a summer wedding and you'll be asked to leave), it's not sophisticated, and it definitely isn't office-appropriate unless you work in Willy Wonka's factory. But as a winter evening fragrance for someone who wants to smell like the world's most expensive dessert? It absolutely nails that assignment. Just don't blame me when your barista starts offering you loyalty cards to bakeries you've never visited.

Look, I need to start with a disclaimer here: Raghba is not a fragrance, it's a biological weapon disguised as one. I sprayed two — and I cannot stress this enough — TWO small sprays on my wrist at 9am on a Tuesday, and by 2pm my colleague Sarah asked if someone was baking cupcakes in the office. By 6pm, the bloke sitting three seats away on the Tube was visibly sniffing the air. This thing projects like it's got a marketing budget.

It's basically what would happen if you took every dessert you've ever wanted but couldn't afford the calories for and turned it into a scent. The opening is pure sugar rush — vanilla, caramel, something that genuinely smells like the pick-and-mix counter at Woolworths (RIP). Then this weird oud note creeps in around hour four, which should clash horribly but somehow works? It's like finding out your nan's Victoria sponge pairs brilliantly with a pint of bitter.

Here's the thing about Lattafa — they've cracked the brief that Western houses charge £200 for and done it for about twenty quid. Is it subtle? Absolutely not. Will it make you smell like a walking Krispy Kreme? Definitely. But will people remember you? Every single time. I wore this to a mate's birthday in November and three different people asked what I was wearing. The only fragrance that's ever gotten me more compliments was... well, nothing has gotten me more compliments.