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Some scents have a clear character from the very first breath. Wood, spice and resins – nothing you would mistake for a light, fresh cologne.

Oud is their most striking representative: dark wood, balsam, smoke and leather in a single material. Saffron lends it a dry, spicy nobility, cypriol earthiness, and labdanum a resinous warmth that binds the bold notes into one whole.

Real strength, though, is not a perfume that can be smelt from the far end of the room. Even a powerful composition can be civilised. One form of strength is not putting it on display at every turn.

Charisma is hard to explain. One person finds it in natural elegance, another in humour or in the way someone listens. Scent can be part of the impression – its source remains the personality.

As a perfume, picture it as a balance of freshness, spice and wood. Cardamom brings aromatic energy, vetiver an earthy elegance, cedar a dry cleanness; amber or soft leather accords add warmth.

Cardamom holds a special place in the Arab world – it scents the coffee with which guests are welcomed. In one note, personal style meets hospitality. Charisma, after all, is recognised by the way it gains attention without visible effort.

There are perfumes that reveal themselves by degrees. Dry and spicy at first, then woody, and finally a warm, resinous trace left on the skin.

Frankincense is at once fresh, balsamic and faintly smoky. Myrrh adds a bittersweet tone, patchouli earth, oud a further layer of wood and resin. Tobacco accords steer the scent towards dry leaves, dark wood and old libraries – not cigarette smoke, but the sweetish aroma of cured tobacco.

Such scents seem reserved, yet have many layers. Rather like a person who does not tell you their whole life at the first meeting.

Elegance often comes from simplicity. There is no need to pile up ten bold elements when a few well-chosen ones hold together.

Cedar brings dry cleanness, vetiver an earthy foundation, neroli a fresh, faintly green floral note. Cardamom adds a gentle spicy contrast and sandalwood rounds off the sharper edges. The result recalls a well-cut suit: it is not the number of flourishes that counts but the considered detail.

Nor does it have to be all wood. Rose, neroli or a soft musk add a lightness you might not expect in a men’s fragrance. In Arabian perfumery, moreover, elegance does not give up richness – even an opulent perfume feels refined when it is balanced.

Passion need not be noisy. Sometimes it is warmth, closeness and a scent that recalls good moments shared with someone else.

Vanilla and tonka give a perfume a sweet, creamy, faintly almond-like softness. Tobacco balances it with a dry, earthy tone, cinnamon warms it, and oud or leather add contrast. Such ambery compositions can be gentle, bold or almost gourmand – depending on the proportions and on the skin.

Here the masculine and feminine worlds of scent meet without borders. Vanilla belongs in a bold men’s perfume just as oud belongs in a women’s one. Passion is not an ingredient assigned to one sex. It is one of the meanings we give to scents.

Advertising ties men’s perfume to adventure, performance and dominance. There is another way.

White musk recalls clean skin and soft fabric. Sandalwood adds a creamy warmth, orange blossom a light sweetness, neroli freshness. A soft rose or an amber accord gives the scent more body without disturbing its calm. It is not made for distance – it comes into its own up close.

Tenderness here is not the opposite of strength but another form of it: setting aside the need to seem impenetrable and leaving room for trust. Perhaps that is why some of the loveliest perfumes are the ones that are not trying to impress anyone.