The Varieties of Amber Experience 7: Etro Ambra, Gandini Lavanda ed Ambra Oro, and Prada L'Eau Ambrée

(Editorial note: the below post is a reblog from Il Mondo di Odore, which is no longer publicly accessible. Please excuse irrelevant seasonal remarks!)

As the weather grows progressively warmer in the northern hemisphere with the approach of summertime, amber aficionados may begin to grow nervous wondering whether they'll be able to find appropriate solutions: warm weather colognes and perfumes with enough amber to satisfy their needs but without suffocating themselves and those in their environs with the characteristically thick blanket of labdanum touted in wintertime precisely for its ability to heat up and expand to envelop the wearer.

People appear generally to think of amber as wintertime fare, and that does seem right to me. Oriental perfumes, often featuring hard-hitting spices and darker elements anchored in amber, wear very well underneath sweaters as the body's heat causes little wafts of olfactory delight to project up and along one's neck. Fortunately for amber addicts there are some warmer weather choices.

Etro AMBRA (1989)
Wearing this weightless amber perfume is like walking on pillows. It's fluffy like whipped butter but without any oiliness whatsoever. Although Ambra is neither watery nor dilute, it also does not build up and overwhelm, even if liberally applied, which makes it a fine choice for the warmer months. I would say that this particular creation lies at about the mid-range of sweetness as far as amber perfumes go, and although I've read some reviewers who find it too sweet, I must respectfully disagree. I find this composition considerably less sweet than, for example, Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114. 

Ambra offers a well-balanced blend of aromatic elements which counterbalance the characteristic heaviness of labdanum amber so as to produce a fragrance which seems wearable year-round to me. I also find this creation entirely unisex and do not know why it is marketed to women. If anything, I'd say that the aromatic fir resin, the citrus, and the geranium together push this slightly toward the masculine side. In any case, the quality is beyond dispute, and I highly recommend this creation to amber lovers of all stripes, provided only that their heart's desire is to walk atop pillows!

Salient notes: bergamot, geranium, fir resin, lemon, labdanum, patchouli, styrax, amber, musk, opoponax, vanilla (from www.parfumo.net)

Gandini 1896 
LAVANDA ED AMBRA ORO (2010)
The house of Gandini boasts a heritage dating to 1896, but my distinct impression is that they may have been on extended hiatus for many decades. In any case, I learned of them only in 2012! I recently discovered their cologne series launched in 2010, and have been very happy with every one of them I've tried. Lavanda ed Ambra Oro is certainly no exception, and in fact may be my favorite of the bunch. 

  

I feared that I would not like this composition, its name beginning with the big 'L' and all, but the lavender is very subtle and smooth and is buttressed with other aromatic and floral components so that, while detectable, it is not at all loud or harsh as I often find lavender to be, particularly in unisex and masculine colognes.

These colognes are designed to be combined with one another according to the wearer's desire, but I find each one to be quite good as a stand-alone fragrance, and the longevity and sillage seem more typical of an eau de toilette than a cologne. Like the other members in this series, Lavanda ed Ambra Oro is very natural-smelling and smoothly blended. Again, the lavender is downplayed, which is great news for those more interested in amber than in lavender. The amber here is ambergris, I believe, given its texture.

Although ambergris dominates this composition, everything really comes together—the rose, patchouli, geranium, lily of the valley, and cedar, along with the lavender—into a seamless somewhat porous layer, making Lavanda ed Ambra Oro another excellent choice for warmer weather.  The drydown of this fragrance is just beautiful, with the amber fully detectable but light and airy. I recommend this creation to everyone who loves amber, as this is a completely new take—at least in my experience to date!

Salient notes: Geranium leaf, coriander, lavender, damascus rose, lily of the valley, ambergris, patchouli, vanilla, cedar (from http://www.parfumo.net/) 


 
  

Prada L'EAU AMBREE (2009)
Although both the original Prada for women and Prada for men appear to bear Amber as their subtitle, each of those compositions seems to me to be much more about things other than amber. In contrast, L'Eau Ambrée is really only about amber, nearly devoid as it is of florals, fruits, and soap. 


This perfume offers a very light veil of amber which swiftly dries down to what is essentially a skin scent with low sillage. Very subtle and only slightly ambery, L'Eau Ambrée may be the ultimate summertime amber scent. It does not morph into anything unforeseen and unpleasant even under conditions of extreme heat and humidity, which is obviously important in places such as Boston where during the summer months the temperature may unexpectedly spike to 90F or more for up to a couple of weeks at a time. 


To my nose, this scent seems very straightforwardly to be labdanum amber, although ambergris is listed as a note. What I like about this composition is that although it presents amber in all its glory, it manages to be light and ethereal without seeming just plain dilute. I am not generally speaking a fan of what I describe as “thin oriental” perfumes, which often just seem weak and effete, as though the house may have simply thrown in a bunch of extra solvent to increase the volume. In the case of L'Eau Ambrée, the creation seems complete, and it does not strike me as a case of simple dilution, say, of one of this house's other self-proclaimed amber perfumes, Prada for women or Prada Homme/Amber. 


Somewhat confusingly, Prada for women is sometimes referred to by reviewers as Prada Amber as well, so I am not entirely clear as to whether Prada Amber for women is supposed to be an entirely different perfume or not. In any case, I can certainly affirm that L'Eau Ambrée is a distinct creation, not a dilute solution of either of the two original eponymous launches, whether for women or for men. 


I would compare this creation favorably to the first L'Artisan Parfumeur amber perfume—for better or for worse, depending on your perspective. If you find one of these perfumes boring (as some reviewers evidently do...), you'll find the other one boring as well. On the other hand, if a simple, natural-smelling but light presentation of amber is what you're after, without the complications of spices and big florals and various and sundry other bells and whistles, either of these creations may work for you, and this one seems to me perfect for hot-weather wear. Of all of the light amber perfumes I've encountered, Prada L'Eau Ambrée is by far the lightest! 


Perfumer: Daniela Andrier
Salient notes: lemon, citruses, patchouli, rose, ambergris, opoponax, and vanilla (from www.parfumo.net)

The Varieties of Amber Experience 6: Parfumerie Générale L'Ombre Fauve and XerJoff Dhajala

(Editorial note: the below post is a reblog from Il Mondo di Odore, which is no longer publicly accessible. Please excuse irrelevant seasonal remarks!)

Parfumerie Générale
L'OMBRE FAUVE (2007)

A roaring lion fresh from the hunt is transformed into a purring kitty as he licks the blood from his paws and prepares for a lengthy nap, his body fully extended under the golden sun slowly setting over the savanna. This wild cat casts a long, broad shadow.

This is L'Ombre Fauve, a rich amber perfume which opens with a decidedly animalic quality but is swiftly tamed into a lustrous, luscious labdanum amber which is still on the dark side but not at all sharp. As neither leather nor civet is listed among the notes, I'm wondering whether the musk employed here is one of the more realistic, animalic varieties.

On the other hand, since the drydown is not at all skanky (and I am very sensitive to musks), it could be that the dark woods are somehow conjuring this effect in my mind? Or perhaps this is authentic, straight-from-nature ambergris or one of the components of its reasonable facsimiles (ambreine). There is no question to my nose about the presence of labdanum amber, but perhaps ambergris is also here.

In any case, L'Ombre Fauve is a substantial amber perfume with a reasonable amount of patchouli but not enough for me to call this a patchouli perfume per se. No, this is an amber perfume leaning toward the woody-oriental side. There are no florals listed among the notes, but there is a fullness here which I have found in floral amber perfumes before.

This composition is also not very sweet, while still having the dense texture of caramel. I completely agree with the characterization of this perfume as unisex, given the relative dearth of florals and sweetness. L'Ombre Fauve is relatively simple but a very fine perfume worthy of testing by any amber aficionado.

Perfumer: Pierre Guillaume 
Salient notes: amber, woods, musk, patchouli, frankincense (from www.parfumo.net)

XerJoff DHAJALA (2007)

A benevolent despot in flowing red robes rules over his subjects with the wisdom of Cicero and the ambition of Alexander to cast the net of his influence as far as possible. He is the Machiavellian Prince who accepts that his inspiration in others of fear and love will protect his domain, but he has no need ever to opt for the former because his shining example of virtue inspires even his enemies to comply with his decrees.

This is Dhajala, a truly regal creation. I have managed to squeeze five full wearings out of a tiny milliliter sample of this eau de parfum, which is no mean feat for someone whose skin appears to be made of sponge. There are many niche houses whose perfumes I have no difficulty emptying a 1.5 ml vial of in a single wear. In fact, I generally avoid sample services which provide volumes of less than 1 ml because I do not believe that I can give a perfume a fair wear with such a small amount.

Not so with XerJoff, which is producing liquids every bit as potent as I expect pure perfume to be. So although this line is expensive, I would say that you're really getting a lot more perfume than you do from some of the other niche houses, not to name any names, but everyone knows good examples of what I'm talking about...

So why is this creation so incredibly appealing and beautiful? It's really not the price. This is not a case of thinking that a perfume must be great for the simple reason that it costs so much. In fact, I'm such a contrarian, that the price might actually be a reason to dismiss it a priori as a “luxury perfume” produced for people ignorant of perfume. No, in reality, I don't care how much this costs. Dhajala simply smells splendid, and although its focus is amber, it does not smell like any of the other perfumes of this general type I've reviewed to date.

Although ambergris is listed among the notes, I do not find this composition very animalic. Instead it's slightly spicy and rich and woody. Above all, it's very complex, with a clear development trajectory that moves through several stages, all of which are gorgeous. This is one of those rare perfumes where during my wearing I find myself exclaiming out loud at regular intervals how wonderful I smell.

Dhajala is clearly an ambroriental perfume, but it does not smell like any other oriental or any other amber I've encountered before. The unique combination of balsams and galbanum along with orange blossom, rose, and jasmine creates a perfectly balanced and harmonic yet at the same time compelling olfactory experience.

I highly recommend this perfume to kings and queens alike!

Perfumer: Jacques Flori
Salient notes: Bergamot, galbanum, orange, orange blossom, jasmine, pink pepper, rose, ambergris, musk, Myroswelia balsam, Tonkiphora balsam, and vanilla (from www.parfumo.net) 

The Varieties of Amber Experience 5: Matriarch and Sarah Horowitz

(Editorial note: the below post is a reblog from Il Mondo di Odore, which is no longer publicly accessible. Please excuse irrelevant seasonal remarks!)

Ambrein: The Missing Link

Matriarch AMBRE VIE (2012)

I learned of Matriarch, a small natural-perfume niche house out of Washington state, from Marlen Harrison at The Perfume Critic, who reviewed Ambre Vie not too long ago. In a comment on the post, I inquired as to the nature of ambreine (listed among the notes) and, specifically, whether it was a component of synthetic ambergris. Christi Meshell, the perfumer, was kind enough to share the following very helpful information:

Ambreine has multiple meanings with the same spelling: one as a constituent of ambergris and the other as a refinement of labdanum. The alcohol ambrettolide (ambrain, ambrein), is what gives it the characteristic aroma, and it is also found in true ambergris from sperm whales, so to answer your question: yes.

The ambreine I used for Ambre Vie comes from a refinement of labdanum resinoid from the cistus plants in Andalusia. This proprietary process is only carried out by one company in the world. There is no ambergris (or other animal product) in Ambre Vie.

Labdanum is known by all of these names and more: Ambreine, Ciste, Cistus Creticus, Cistus incanus, Cistus ladanifer, Cistus ladaniferus, Cistus polymorphus, Cistus villosus, Cyste, Jara, Jara de Ládano, Rockrose.

Needless to say, I was impressed. Ms. Meshell's erudition was surpassed only by her generosity, as she then proceeded to send everyone who commented on the post a sample of Ambre Vie, which is why I am able to review it today.

Matriarch is relatively new and not a well-known house, as is evidenced by the fact that I found it listed at neither Parfumo nor Fragrantica. (Not sure whether it is at The Other Site because their server was down...) However, based on the quality of this perfume, that situation should be changing very soon!

So what is Ambre Vie about? First off, I should say that it is not at all a typical amber perfume—for better or for worse, depending upon your perspective. There are, after all, people who are bored by straight-up amber perfumes and prefer amber as a base, not as a stand-alone perfume. Those people are in luck in this case, because Ambre Vie is completely sui generis. I want to say that it is oriental, but it's not a typical ambroriental perfume either. Looking at the notes, one might have guessed that Ambre Vie would be a woody oriental. But it does not seem to be that either.

To my nose, the most dominant floral note is marigold or tagetes, which I am familiar with from a few recent testings of Van Cleef by Van Cleef & Arpels and St. John Signature by St. John, both of which pack mighty punches of bold marigold. In Ambre Vie, the saturated-orange quality of this flower is in full evidence and combines with the woods and tobacco to offer enough complexity to compete quite effectively with the amber, which here does seem to be more of a base than a focal point.

There is also a dark, edgy quality to this perfume which reminded me initially somewhat of Parfums d'Empire Ambre Russe. Perhaps it is the dragon's blood which is imparting an ever-so-slightly leathery quality to the composition? Don't know. As I was not at all sure what dragon's blood even was, I did a bit of quick googling and found that it appears to be a red-colored tree resin, but I was unable to find any descriptions of its scent, and although it is cited as having medicinal uses, I found no references to its use in perfume. (Christi: are you out there? Can you help us out here?)

On reflection, it may well be the ambrein itself which imparts a somewhat animalic (leathery) quality to this perfume, given that the molecule is a major component of natural ambergris, an animal product. In any case, Ambre Vie smells rich and much less rough-hewn and harsh than I usually find all-natural perfumes to be.

As the perfumer's explanation indicates, Matriarch goes to great lengths and far-away places to procure the best natural materials. But this does not seem to be a simple mixture of essential oils (as I found the Red Flower organic perfume oils to be, among other such perfumes I've tested). Instead, Ambre Vie strikes me as a fully composed perfume which undulates and unfurls in complex and subtle ways and has enough contrasts to defy simple categorization.

The amber here is not the stereotypical blanket of labdanum lusciousness but closer to the metal mesh effect which I have found in perfumes such as Balmain Ambre Gris and Laboratorio Olfattivo Daimiris. When I say "metal mesh", I should clarify that I am describing the texture, not the scent, which is not at all metallic to my nose. Although the perfumer has explained how the ambrein is derived from non-animal sources, in terms of olfactory effect, this creation definitely leans more toward the ambergris than the labdanum amber side. I might compare Ambre Vie to a floralized, somewhat more tender cousin to Parfum d'Empire Ambre Russe, but still with an edginess.

My own experience of this perfume differed from Marlen Harrison's, no doubt in part because it is so complex and so we, being different people, naturally find the many facets of this creation variably salient. But we certainly agree that this is a worthy creation and a very complex and well-blended perfume. There is no sense that this is the work of an amateur, as is often the case, in my experience, with the perfumes of all-natural houses.

I recommend Ambre Vie for testing by anyone interested in the many varieties of amber experience, as this creation is rather unique, and it takes the wearer on a very worthwhile olfactory journey. I also think that the quality of this perfume provides grounds for believing that there may be many other treasures to discover at the house of Matriarch...

Perfumer: Christi Meshell
Salient notes: Hiba Wood, Mimosa, Davana, Frankincense, Marigold, Vintage Broom, Sandalwood, Dragon’s Blood, Ambreine, Tobacco


Sarah Horowitz PALETTE AMBER
and LOVE COMES FROM WITHIN

Sarah Horowitz Parfums is another small niche house, this one based in California. I ordered samples directly from the website and have tried several of them. Although amber figures in a number of the perfumes of this house, two of them are much more about amber than anything else: Palette Amber and Love Comes from Within. Apparently the Palette collections (one of which is shown above, the basenotes) are intended to capture simple single scents, "soliflores" or perhaps "solinotes". Other members of the Palette series include Gardenia and Rose. The perfumer describes the idea thus:


The Perfumers Palette is a full line of single note fragrances that can be combined, worn alone or layered with your favorite fragrance to give it a personal twist.


This concept makes a lot of sense once one learns that Sarah Horowitz Parfums does a lot of bespoke work and also offers intensive perfume-making seminars. In other words, there is a lot of emphasis on sharing the joy of perfume making.

Palette Amber, as the name suggests, offers a fairly straightforward presentation of buttery, thick labdanum amber, and can certainly be worn as a stand-alone perfume by those purists who wish to enjoy amber unadulterated by distractions such as spice, leather, flowers, etc. This is a rich and satisfying lustrous golden layer of labdanum amber, and although there is a tinge of something dirty right at the opening, shortly thereafter the perfume settles into that oh-so-wonderful caramel-textured scent beloved to amber connoisseurs. Palette Amber is not sweet, but it has the thickness and texture of soft caramel and is sure to satisfy the cravings of purists.

For those who prefer their amber spiced up a bit, Love Comes from Within combines the rich labdanum layer of Palette Amber with clove, carnation, and rose, all of which however are applied judiciously. Clove can be a difficult note for me, and even tiny amounts sometimes overwhelm, but here it is quite light and blends in nicely with the equally light floral notes to embellish, not overpower, the amber.

The spices and flowers definitely move this composition closer to a floriental than a straight-up amber, and in a side-by-side test, I find Love Comes from Within quite a bit less buttery than Palette Amber. But it also smells great, and worn alone the more complex composition does seem rather buttery. Such judgments are always relative, it seems to me.

Just to give an idea of where these perfumes are situated vis-à-vis some of the other considerably more famous niche ambers, I would say that Palette Amber inhabits a territory closer to Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114 (which is, however, sweeter), while Love Comes from Within lies perhaps mid-way between Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan (which opens with an herbal quality absent here) and Memo Manoa (which is darker and more spicy to my nose).

Which of these two Sarah Horowitz perfumes do I prefer? Honestly, I think that I am torn between the two. Palette Amber is a serious wristsniffer, but Love Comes from Within is a beautifully embellished labdanum amber perfume. I heartily recommend both for testing by amber enthusiasts.


Perfumer: Sarah Horowitz
Salient notes: clove, carnation, rose, Tunisian amber, French vanilla, clean musk, and Indian sandalwood

The Varieties of Amber Experience 4: Montale Blue Amber and Memo Manoa

(Editorial note: the below post is a reblog from Il Mondo di Odore, which is no longer publicly accessible. Please excuse irrelevant seasonal remarks!)

Montale
BLUE AMBER (pre-2007)

It has taken me a few wearings to wrap my nose around Blue Amber, which is quite a bit more complex than it seemed at first sniff. This is an excellent labdanum amber (not ambergris) perfume which tweaks the standard recipe by throwing some coriander, geranium, and patchouli into the mix. The coriander is the most marked deviation from the usual amber suspects, imparting an ever-so-slightly medicinal scent to this composition with the capacity even to clear my nasal passages a bit. It's not as dominant as the coriander in Fifi Chachnil, which I recently tested and consigned to my medicine chest for use only as a cold remedy or smelling salts surrogate, but the coriander is still strong enough to be detectable and to tinge this perfume just a smidgeon blue.

I must confess that the first couple of times I wore Blue Amber, I did not get it at all. I certainly liked it, but the composition seemed to be a straightforward and very smooth “amber for the sake of amber” perfume, leaving me somewhat mystified by the name. However, the puzzle was finally solved for me upon comparing Blue Amber side-by-side with Memo Manoa (see below). Suddenly the distinctive notes of Blue Amber leapt out to my nose, making me wonder how I had managed to miss them before. The patchouli base I had noticed, and a faint soupçon of geranium, but the coriander had escaped me entirely, so fixated was I on the rich, lustrous beauty of this labdanum amber.

It turns out that, like amber, blue amber, too, exists in nature and is in fact an apt metaphor for this perfume. No one is saying that Pierre Montale (or the committee acting behind the scenes and under the assumed name of Pierre Montale!!!!) isolated the essence of blue amber to make this perfume. No, he/they tweaked the standard labdanum-vanillin-benzoin recipe by tinting it slightly blue. Many reviewers have described the resultant scent as having a powdery quality, but I think that what they are perceiving is the combination of the coriander and the labdanum acting in tandem. The effect bears no resemblance to baby powder, to my nose.

After several testings, I have added Blue Amber to my wish list, as it does stand out from the labdanum amber crowd and deserves a place in my armoire among some of the other amber perfumes I've tested so far. This is another creation which, while sharing much with the many other perfumes of this category, still manages to carve out a distinct niche and stand apart from the rest. The differences are subtle but nonetheless important.

Perfumer(s): Pierre Montale (and/or ???)
Salient notes: bergamot, geranium, coriander, vetiver, amber, patchouli, and vanilla (from http://www.parfumo.net/)

Memo MANOA (2010)
It has been nearly two years since I set out on a quest to test the perfumes of the relatively obscure niche house Memo. The house was founded by Clara Molloy, who decided to commission the creation of perfumes to capture journeys to various exotic destinations, whether real or imaginary.

Journeys, like perfumes, she points out, have beginnings, middles, and ends. (I gather that this house does not produce linear perfumes...) I love to travel, and I love perfume, so naturally my interest was piqued. I ordered samples directly from the house's website and tested them all out one by one. Of the selection I tried, the one which really stood out from the rest turned out to be a gorgeous labdanum amber perfume, Manoa.

According to the house's literature, Manoa is the city of opoponax and gold, and judging by this perfume, that seems like somewhere I really should be! This perfume smells so wonderful, first, as an amber perfumer with a lustrous, viscous texture and, second, because of the way it has been spiced up with ginger, lemon, iris, and cypress. I cannot claim to be able to tease out those notes individually, but I can affirm that they are woven together in this perfume and hover over top of the amber like a beautiful shimmering veil floating on a cushion of air.

Manoa is a labdanum-amber perfume for those who are bored with the L'Artisan Parfumeur ambers and also with straight-up amber oils. This is really closer to an oriental perfume, given the spicy quality of the overall composition. I highly recommend this perfume for testing by not only amber lovers, but also those who prefer more complex oriental compositions. Manoa is spicy and unique, while still offering a big dose of labdanum, opoponax, and vanilla for those looking specifically for an amber fix. For the record, this perfume seems rather linear on my skin, but when a journey starts out so well, who really wants it to come to an end?

Perfumer: Alenor Massenet
Salient notes: bergamot, ginger, lemon, iris, tonka bean, cypress absolute, labdanum, opoponax, and vanilla (from http://www.parfumo.net/)

The Varieties of Amber Experience 3: Keiko Mecheri Crystal d'Ambre and Parfums d'Empire Cuir Russe

(Editorial note: the below post is a reblog from Il Mondo di Odore, which is no longer publicly accessible. Please excuse irrelevant seasonal remarks!)

Amber: What's in a name?

Keiko Mecheri
CRYSTAL D'AMBRE (2009)

Keiko Mecheri places a big emphasis on smoothness and subtlety and is sometimes referred to as a poetic perfumer. That seems right to me. I have not encountered too many revolutionary creations among the many perfumes of this house which I've tested but, at the same time, nearly everything is very likeable and wearable, often beautiful, albeit subtle, and indisputably made of high-quality components. In general, you get what you'd expect from the perfumes of this house, as they often are literally named. Crystal d'Ambre is a case in point.

Amber resin is well-known as the final destination of many an insect which has mistakenly stepped into the stuff and is then “trapped in amber” for the remaining short duration of its life—and forever after, since its dead little body becomes effectively petrified in what hardens to stone. People who trade in amber stones actually highlight the poor dead insects found in some of their pieces.

Amber in perfumery is already a metaphor, so I find it rather interesting that in Crystal d'Ambre, the amber appears to be metaphorically trapped in musk! There is a dominant musk coating enveloping the amber of this perfume. It is not a dirty musk, but it is a fairly declarative one, so anyone who has a problem with musk is probably not going to like this creation. I myself only really noticed how strong the musk here is after coming back to this perfume and testing it again a second time. In the interim, I had sampled and worn quite a few straight-up amber perfumes which are totally devoid of musk. Like many of those creations, this one, too, seems fairly linear to me.

But in marked contrast to many oriental "amber" perfumes, Crystal d'Ambre really seems more like a musk perfume with only a touch of amber to give the musk some color and character. The amber is definitely detectable, but only through a layer of musk. The overall effect is analogous to looking at amber stones through some sort of thick lens or crystal, so I do think that this perfume is very well named, and I recommend it for testing by anyone who loves musk and likes amber.

Perfumer: Keiko Mecheri
Salient notes: benzoin, labdanum, aromatic notes, suede, amber, musk, sandalwood vanilla (from http://www.parfumo.net/)

Parfums d'Empire
AMBRE RUSSE (2005)

As is usually the case with niche houses, I find some perfumes of Parfums d'Empire very compelling and others quite a bit less so, and often that has more to do with me than with the perfumes, or so it seems. In Ambre Russe, what I find is that the "amber" is a secondary element. What is it secondary to? In what appears initially to be a wonderful case of truth in advertising by accurate naming, Russe is the key concept in play.

So, what is Russian? you may well wonder. This perfume offers a tripartite answer to that question.


First, Russian is vodka:

Second,Russian is leather:.

Third, Russian is tea:

Ambre Russe opens with a boozy "vodka", and then pulls out its oily black leather jacket and army boots before marching off to prepare a huge samovar of strongly brewed black tea. There's a lot going on here, and much of it is black, after the vodka opening, at least. Among the notes is listed also champagne, but let's face it: splash your gentle glass of champagne with some ice-cold vodka, and it will taste like vodka.

In my first encounter with this perfume, it seemed to me that the amber could not really compete with the dark demeanor of both the leather and the tea, which meant of course that this was very simply an amber-named composition probably more likely to please leather and black tea-note lovers than amber aficionados. My initial take was that the amber was being somewhat smothered by the hard-hitting dark leather and tea. As I learned more, my interpretation had to be revised.

Although looking at perfume notes is not always helpful, since often they include all sorts of suggestive metaphors which may or may not bear any relation to the scent produced, in this particular case, a quick glance at the notes helps a great deal to clarify the intentions of the perfumer, Marc-Antoine Corticchiato.

The perfume is called Ambre Russe, but the house does not claim at its website to use “amber” in the perfumery sense. Indeed, listed among the notes are none of the characteristic components—labdanum, vanillin, benzoin—constitutive of perfumic amber. Instead, the house lists ambre gris as the note which accounts for the i>Ambre in Ambre Russe.

I presume that synthetic ambergris is being used here, rather than the secreted excretions of some sperm whale's intestines. My understanding is that synthetic ambergris, too, is a sort of metaphor, for it involves at least three separate substances. In any case, it should come as no surprise that this perfume smells nothing like orthodox labdanum amber perfumes, because, if anything, this is an ambergris perfume. Natural ambergris is of course an animal by-product and therefore should impart an animalic quality to the perfume, and that probably does play a role in the dark intensity I perceive.

When all is said and sniffed, Ambre Russe is not a labdanum amber perfume at all, which may be a source of some disappointment to those who assumed that the ambre in the name meant that they could expect to encounter in this composition a thick labdanum amber à la Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan or Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114.

Of course, many fans of labdanum amber perfumes may also love edgy black leather and strong black tea, and if you happen to be one of them, this is a perfume which you should make a special effort to test, as it may be not only your cup of tea, but also your glass of vodka!

Perfumer: Marc-Antoine Corticchiato

Salient notes: champagne, vodka, coriander, cumin, Russian tea, cinnamon, ambergris, incense and Russian leather (from the house's website and http://www.parfumo.net/)

The Varieties of Amber Experience 2: Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114 and Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan (Reblog from Il Mondo di Odore)

(Editorial note: the below post is a reblog from Il Mondo di Odore, which is no longer publicly accessible. Please excuse irrelevant seasonal remarks!)

The Varieties of Amber Experience, Part 2: Histoires de Parfums Ambre 114 and Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan

Amber is a metaphor in perfumery. Many casual perfume users appear to think that amber stone is somehow implicated, but it is not. Although both amber (fossilized tree resin) and ambergris (a concretized substance excreted from the intestines of sperm whales) used to wash up on the shore and so were sometimes confused, perfumers have not been able to make much use of amber stone in their work because it does not create the scent which they seek.

In creating an amber effect, there is no single substance in nature which perfumers collect up to melt, distill, condense, and extract essences from in order to build a perfume. No, what we refer to as amber is constructed, often of labdanum, benzoin, and vanillin, but other components are sometimes used as well, and these may be combined in varying proportions to produce distinctive interpretations of amber. Still, there is something, a specific type of scent, to which the term amber refers in perfumery, though it is not a monolithic thing.

In the simplest amber perfumes, embellishments are eschewed, with the result that a perfume such as L'Artisan Parfumeur Ambre Extrême may seem more like a base than full-fledged perfume. Still, some people enjoy that and similar creations precisely because they are so simple. They ask for amber, and L'Artisan Parfumeur delivers just that.

I have tried a few amber perfume oils, including one by Sage and another by Sarah Horowitz, which offer a direct amber experience unmediated by (detectable) spices or leather or flowers. Such perfumes exhibit slight variations, and they usually do contain different notes, but they all smell much more like one another than any of them smells to anything else.

People who are not wooed by unadorned amber oils or perfumes may still love amber, but they are looking for a bit more. Often the added elements are oriental in nature, and that may be why so many amber creations are categorized as oriental perfumes, though in some ways they deserve their own category.

Histoires de Parfums
AMBRE 114 (2008)
This amber perfume is said to contain 114 components, so obviously it is not a simple composition. I am not actually sure whether I should be impressed by the magnitude of that number or not, as I have no idea what the average number of components in a perfume is. I imagine that it is often rather large, since amber certainly isn't the only metaphorical, constructed note in perfumery.

Perhaps the choice of Ambre 114 as the name of this creation was more a matter of convenience than an effort to impress. Lest we forget, Chanel no. 5 became the name of a legendary perfume because it was the fifth prototype which the perfumer had created for Coco Chanel, and it happened to be the one which she selected to be Chanel's first perfume.

In any case, whether 114 is a large number or not relative to most perfumes, Ambre 114 is certainly deceptive in its complexity, for no one, I think, would ever have guessed that there were so many different elements combined in this seemingly straightforward amber perfume.

To my nose, Ambre 114 is buttery and somewhat sweet, especially when compared side-by-side to other niche perfumes familiar to me. It is not a sweet perfume per se—certainly not gourmand or fruity—but it seems to me sweet relative to other amber perfumes. I find this creation considerably more appealing than most amber oils, so it must be some of the 111 other elements—besides labdanum, benzoin, and vanillin!—which I find to be compelling. Still, I must confess that it is impossible for me to tease out what they might be.

Ambre 114 offers a rich blanket of beautiful golden amber which never becomes boring, despite the fact that I do not identify any flowers or woods or leather or fruits or spices. This smells like the idea in mind to which the term amber has come to refer, and yet I find it to be considerably more appealing than L'Artisan Parfumeur Ambre Extrême or any of the amber perfume oils I've tried. To my nose, Ambre 114, is a full-fledged and compelling amber perfume, while at the same time being only an amber perfume, as contradictory as that may sound.

Perfumers: Gerald Ghislain and Magali Senequier
Salient notes: thyme, nutmeg, rose, geranium, patchouli, sandalwood, cedar, vetiver, amber, vanilla, tonka bean, benzoin, musk (from the house's accompanying literature)

Serge Lutens AMBRE SULTAN (2000)
I have a difficult time finding Serge Lutens creations which I have any real desire to wear as perfume. Many of them seem more like thrill-rides, which I'm always happy to have experienced once but don't really feel the need to repeat—especially when they are as unforgettable as Chypre Rouge or Arabie or Cuir Mauresque or Serge Noire or Datura Noir, to name but a few off the top of my head. Unique those creations certainly are, but not all that pleasurable for me to wear, though I imagine that one could acquire a taste for any one of them, if for some reason one wished to do so.

Ambre Sultan is a felicitous exception to the rule, defying my general difficulty in finding Serge Lutens perfumes which do not require some sort of intensive olfactory bootcamp in order to be able to appreciate. Perhaps this is simply because, out of all of this house's offerings which I've tried to date, Ambre Sultan is the most orthodox perfume. It really does smell like an amber perfume.

To say that Ambre Sultan is recognizably an amber perfume is not to suggest that it does not stand out from the amber crowd, for it does, especially in the opening minutes, when a delightful herbaceous quality lies like a web on top of the amber base. But as Ambre Sultan dries down, it moves closer and closer to an unadorned, minimalist amber such as L'Artisan Parfumeur L'Eau d'Ambre or Ambre Extrême. Still, there is a consistent and persistent (albeit subtle) woody quality to Ambre Sultan which makes this creation seem more of an oriental woody than a simple amber perfume.

However, I should say that I only really take conscious note of the herbaceous quality and the woodiness in the drydown of Ambre Sultan when I compare it side-by-side to other amber perfumes. That is when the uniqueness of this creation becomes clear. Worn alone, Ambre Sultan seems very much an orthodox amber perfume. But I love it and am happy to have discovered a Serge Lutens creation which belongs in my collection and which I hope to acquire soon!

Perfumer: Christopher Sheldrake
Salient notes: amber, angelica root, benzoin, coriander, labdanum, bayleaf, myrtle, oregano, patchouli, sandalwood, styrax, tolu balsam, vanilla (from www.parfumo.net)