Much like the brownie points of "casual chic" of the original Eau des Merveilles (2004) by perfumers Ralf Schwieger and Nathalie Feisthauer, L'Ambre des Merveilles never intends to intrude a space, but rather infiltrate like a secret agent. To pursue a musical analogy, whereas amber (ambre) is usually solid Buxtehude, L 'Ambre it's a lacework melody by Gabriel Fauré; two cyclical piano phrases, like the four-beat gait of a horse, having a conversation with an echoing cello.
|An Adirondack Lake by Winslow Homer via hudillo|
L'Ambre des Merveilles unites some aspects of both Elixir des Merveilles and Eau Claire des Merveilles (previous flankers from 2006 and 2010 respectively) into its DNA, the comforting gingerbread cookie nuance gaining the nuzzling sweetness of the hug of a close friend who's wearing cosmetic powder and sweet amber perfume oil. Because, you see, there's both warmth and austerity in L'Ambre, interpreting the amber "fragrance note" (really a mix of ingredients) into a perfume that explores all facets of this most traditional aperture of Orientalia: the initial piquancy, the resinous depth and heft, the powdery trail lingering on skin and clothes, the vanilla dryness...The bitterness of labdanum, a touch of soil, of earth smelled in the air, the saturation of crocus yellow trailing off the horizon ~and what I sense as powdery benzoin~ mingle with the bittersweet citrusy top note and a hint of blond tobacco into an amalgam that is brighter than the sum of its parts, yet is still oddly founded on the minerals and salty skin idea of the original Eau.
L'Ambre des Merveilles feels light and buoyed and collapsingly soft, like being surrounded by a sunny cloud, and invokes thoughts of nostalgia, quiet contentment and being at peace with the world.
Music: Gabriel Fauré - Sicilienne, for cello & piano, Op. 78 dedicated to William Henry Squire