Review: Jacques Fath Bel Ambre — 4.0 points

Bel Ambre (Jacques Fath, 2015) is literally ‘beautiful amber’. As the name might already suggest, the bulk of the composition rests on a classical blend of vanilla and labdanum, which is called ‘amber’ for its rich, golden brown hue resembling the precious tree resin. One could be forgiven, therefore, for thinking that the name betrays yet another classical sweet amber perfume, but this is not case. This is because Bel Ambre certainly has a few beautiful surprises up its sleeves.

belambre

Of course, the main impression is traditional. The beloved warmth of this perfumery accord indeed already makes itself evident in the top notes. Juniper berry, which is often used to flavour liquor, imparts a boozy note to the bright citrus and savoury herbs. Cumin lends its complementary spicy note. The sum is like the warmth of a strong liquor coursing through your veins.

But the surprise that soon sets in comes as a chill. Buttery iris note creates an interesting cool contrast to the warm amber composition, and along with an animalic overtone of castoreum and smoky leather, they meld into a soft leathery note. It develops in the dry, smoky side, which will suit those who prefer their amber a little less opulent.

The pleasing amber accord reveals itself fully towards the dry down. The powdery sweetness of vanilla, tonka bean, and musk creates a cosy, ever-so comforting cushion. The balsamic note of labdanum imbues the composition with much warmth here. And in the background, a vetiver note offsets the sweetness nicely with a bit of a woody touch.

Bel Ambre is a gentle take on classical amber with a twist. For me, the overall warmth recalls that of Ambre Sultan (Serge Lutens, 2000), but it is quieter in terms of volume and slightly sweeter. Of course, there is also the soft leathery and animalic tinge. Its lasting power is great enough to be enjoyed throughout the day. If you are looking for a taste of classical amber but with a chic twist, this is it. And, I am sure that fans of classical amber will hardly find fault with such a beautiful amber, and that applies to me as well. Even when I constantly look for novelty in compositions, a familiar accord that is well-executed such as this one has already won half of the battle for my affection.

Source: spirale-rp.fr

Advertisements

Review: Arquiste Anima Dulcis — 4.5 points

Take a look at the esoteric prose of Serge Lutens and Freudian reference on Un Bois Vanille (Serge Lutens, 2003), for example, and one sees why I am happy with the accompanying information of Arquiste. It talks about the creativity of the nuns of the Royal Convent of Jesus Maria in Mexico that has inspired brand owner Carlos Huber. They exploited local ingredients such as chilies, cinnamon, and vanilla to spice up their cocoa infusion, and Anima Dulcis (Arquiste, 2012) by perfumers Rodrigo Flores-Roux and Yann Vasnier explores this beverage recipe along with its circumstances. The concept is direct and simple.

arquiste

Likewise, the original fragrance communicates clearly and with a beautiful surprise. At heart is a warm dark chocolate theme: imagine dusky bitter cocoa and hot chili infusion. Its gourmand accent is shaped by vanilla, cinnamon, and a bit of glazed orange peel on top. It would be the kind of hot beverage I would love to have on a chilly grey day.

But if you are worried that this might be cloying, fret not because it is surprisingly sombre. The rich balsamic, animalic tone of its amber is a dark revelation for such a gourmand direction of its theme. So is the whiff of incense that weaves in a liturgical air. The sum is dark and sensual, and this is a seriously creative beverage. Anima Dulcis seems to oscillate between dark chocolate confection and animalic amber that envelopes me for most of its six hours.

Although the theme of chocolate is not new, Anima Dulcis is such a surprise because it explores the other interesting side of chocolate: the animalic amber. But it is also perfectly paired with the intense heat of chili. This is the kind of gourmand composition with an edge. The swirling dark gourmand composition is certainly redolent of originality.

Source: arquiste.com

Review: Christian Dior Ambre Nuit — 3.5 points

If one wants a gentle amber, this is it. Ambre Nuit (Dior, 2009), despite the name, is perfect for day, night, and just about any season. It is not the rich, dark, classical amber accord à la Shalimar (Guerlain, 1925), Ambre Fétiche (Annick Goutal, 2007), or the slightly gourmand Ambre Sultan (Serge Lutens, 2000). Ambre Nuit, instead, focuses on the transparent warmth of the mix of a classical perfumery accord called amber and throws in a nice measure of rose. A nicely done modern rose-amber by perfumer François Demachy.

ambre nuit

Ambre Nuit opens with the freshness of bergamot and is somewhat aromatic due to the lavender-recalling dihydromyrcenol. From there, it plays on the interesting metallic facet of its rose to complement the amber. It begins with the metallic tonality of pink pepper oil at 0.25%. Then, the tone is extended towards the rather metallic musk fond comprising 11.2% each of Habanolide and ethylene brassylate. This firmly establishes the metallic character of its blooming rose at the centre.

Later, the composition gradually unfurls its sweet amber. There are the vanillic sweetness and balsamic labdanum. The ambery warmth of 5.1% Ambrox is present as a warm ambergris accent, which is in turn extended by the woody-ambery tone of 28% Iso E Super and a touch of cedarwood oil. The ambery warmth feels more like a gentle caress than the enveloping warmth at the fore of Bois d’Argent (Dior, 2004) and Allure Homme Édition Blanche (Chanel, 2008).

Such a well composed composition is thoroughly enjoyable. It presents a well-done oriental accord of rose and amber accented by an ambergris note. Also, the metallic aspect is a quirky twist to the rose. Ambre Nuit is nothing ground-breaking, but I say we always have room for another well-done amber that delights all day long.

Sources: dior.fr, Scent and Chemistry The Molecular World of Odor

Review: Annick Goutal Ambre Sauvage — 3.5 points

Ambre Sauvage (Annick Goutal, 2015) by perfumer Isabelle Doyen is one of those perfumes that must not be tried on paper alone. It takes time on a warm skin to reveal the subtleties of its depth. Otherwise, it would be easy to dismiss the composition for its seemingly one-dimensional character.

annickgotal

Most of Ambre Sauvage is a dense accord of amber. Pink pepper and lavender lend their bright terpenic accents, but they do not seem to make much of an impact, let alone a lift. The notes therein are so well-blended they feel as though I were looking through a filter for Gaussian blur. I can make out a warm patchouli. There is also a swirl of leather, styrax, and incense that sets the dusky tone of the composition. It stays close to skin, emanating just a woody, leathery air. It certainly feels monolithic.

Despite its name, Ambre Sauvage is far from the animalic notes and incense of Ambre Fétiche (Annick Goutal, 2007). Nor does it resemble the spicy and sumptuous feast of Ambre Sultan (Serge Lutens, 2000) in the least. Fans of such dark or opulent ambers will be disappointed.

Nevertheless, the subdued richness feels refined. And, the absence of sweetness means that it can never be cloying. Those wishing to move from modern, streamlined, sweet ambers like Ambre Nuit (Dior, 2009) to a more challenging and shadowy side of amber might find Ambre Sauvage to be a good stepping stone. I just wish its ideas were extrapolated further.

Source: annickgoutal.fr

Review: Christian Dior La Colle Noir — 3.5 points

The moment I saw the name ‘La Colle Noire’, I was struck by the automatic translation that my brain provided — the black glue. But, then again, perfume names should never be taken too seriously in many cases. So, I read the description and learnt that this composition is inspired by Christian Dior’s holiday home. As for the juice, one can tell without having visited the château and its garden that the namesake La Colle Noire (Dior, 2016) by perfumer François Demarchy is filled with May roses.

orientalru

The Rose de Mai in La Colle Noire is distinct. There is jammy and honeyed richness along with the green depth of mimosa note. Accents of cloves provide a spicy contrast. And, after an hour, there is a light amber in the background. Its delicate warm tone is the perfect complement to the soft rose, and it gives La Colle Noire a classical contrast that is easily likeable.

And, classically, sandalwood and musk render a sensual aura in the dry down. The sum is pleasant and elegant as the May rose theme should be. It is carefully balanced and its ingredients smell of quality. The impression it gives is a photorealistic May rose with a warm twist of amber.

I like it for its quality and well-crafted composition, but other far more interesting rose themes abound. It will not sweep you off your feet like the oriental whirlwind of Portrait of A Lady (Frédéric Malle, 2009). Its richness is a tea spoon of raspberry confit, when compared to the red wine of Une Rose (Frédéric Malle, 2000). Nor is it the potent rose that provides a synergistic complement to the oud in Oud Ispahan (Dior, 2012). La Colle Noire is a balanced treatise on Rose de Mai, exploring its facets with quality materials. And, though far from being a literary trophy, it is a cogent essay on May rose.

How the château came to be named as such is more of a mystery than the composition.

Sources: oriental.ru

Review: Guerlain Habit Rouge — 5.0 points

In 1965, fragrances for men were still largely conservative with few styles dominating the market. There were the citrusy chypre of Pour Monsieur (Chanel, 1955), the green woods of Vétiver from Carven (1957) and Guerlain (1959), the fresh herbal fougères of Brut (Fabergé, 1964), and the leather chypre of Aramis (1965), to name a few.

ozmoz

Then came Habit Rouge (Guerlain, 1965), suffused with Guerlain’s oriental legacy à la Shalimar (Guerlain, 1925). It was very different. Perfumer Jean-Paul Guerlain created a composition of strong contrast between cool citrus and warm amber, infused with orange blossom and a leathery note inspired by dressage.

Its scintillating top note is citrus galore: fulsome 32% bergamot oil, 2% petitgrain oil, 2% lemon oil, and 0.5% neroli oil. The brightness of bergamot is a classic introduction of an oriental, joined by the suggestion of a classical eau de cologne from lemon, petitgrain, and neroli.

Then, Habit Rouge mellows with the sensuality of orange blossom. Its green, floral note lends a suave character to the oriental composition. At this point, it appears rather dandy. I imagine a gentleman doused with a hesperidic eau de cologne and fashionably sporting a white floral boutonnière on the lapel.

The sweet amber base is enriched by a Guerlinade accord of sweet vanilla, tonka bean, and powdery orris. There is also a balsamic touch of 0.5% myrrh resin. But key to the personality of Habit Rouge is a leathery iris accord provided by a Firmenich base that gives the feel of soft saddles, burnished boots, and supple reins, the elements of show jumping from the very own experience of Jean-Paul Guerlain. Habit Rouge finishes with a hint of equestrian leather on the amber powder of Guerlinade.

Evidently, Habit Rouge is an offspring of Shalimar that has been given some good tweaking. The citrus is boosted and amber mellowed, and a leathery reference of dressage gives the final touch. Its striking counterpoint of hesperidic notes and sweet amber is effectual in creating the mood of a classical Guerlain: beautiful, rich, and opulent in the panache of its forefathers.

Sources: ozmoz.com, horsecollaborative.com, tvinsider.com, Scent and Chemistry The Molecular World of Odors.

Review: Serge Lutens Un Bois Vanille — 4.0 points

We describe something colloquially as ‘vanilla’ when it is considered ordinary, standard, and possesses no specialities. In the same vein, the warm, sweet effect of vanilla, though universally appreciated, can be just as plain and unexciting or even downright cloying, especially when it is used ad nauseam, as has been the case in many recent launches.

But when used judiciously, vanilla is one of the most versatile and powerful tools in perfumery. In large quantities, it provides much of the sensual warmth to the base of Jicky (Guerlain, 1889) and forms the classical oriental accord à la Shalimar (Guerlain, 1925). In small amounts, it can still provide great effects by highlighting the character and increasing the impact of a composition. For instance, it lends a warm touch to the cold aldehydic accords in Chanel N°5 (1921) and Arpège (Lanvin, 1927) and smooths out the rough-hewn quality in chypres like Ma Griffe (Carven, 1947) and Miss Dior (1947). Vanilla in perfumery can thus be thought of as salt in cooking: it brings out the flavour, but too much of it and the dish becomes unpalatable.

un bois vaille.jpg

In the case of Un Bois Vanille (Serge Lutens, 2003) by perfumer Christopher Sheldrake, there is the challenge of focusing solely on vanilla, but without succumbing to the cloyingly sweet cliché. In other words, the challenge is akin to using a lot of salt and giving it character without rendering the dish inedible. To that, I think of my favourite salty food like anchovies and dried seaweed; their marine tang best matches the sea salt, with which they are prepared. Likewise, the solution to the composition of Un Bois Vanille is a classical one: an oriental accord with vanilla at the centre.

Layering with strong notes contrasts and brings out the delectable sweetness. The anisic licorice in the opening, for instance, highlights the plush vanilla character, which emerges in full glory. A mélange of oriental notes, including amber, musk, benzoin, and tonka bean, accompanies and enhances the main theme. There are also plenty of interesting twists in the layers from waxy, lactonic coconut and roasted almond to the floral touch of jasmine.

However, the duel between the luscious sweetness of vanilla and the leathery animalic amber is its most distinctive quality. It suggests something delicious, but also dark and mysterious. The accenting layers, then, serve to emphasise the curious nature of its vanilla. And the waves of its warmth hover around me from dawn till dusk. Such is the quality, for which I most crave in the bleakest of winter days. Un Bois Vanille is an interesting vanilla that is anything but… vanilla.