Ambre Gris by Alyssa Ashley

Pleasant amber with a floral halo, but as an Eau Parfumée, it sounds very soft to me. It evokes classic soap, like Magno or shaving soap, that old sensation of cleanliness with slippery soaps and linen towels. It is unisex, although I see it better on a bloke. I like it and I don’t like it, I don’t know. It doesn’t fit my favourite scents. I wouldn’t mind if someone else used it; in fact, I could think it smells good, but for me, no.

If Essence de Patchouli gave me rejection, Ambre Gris has plunged me into the pit of despair. Brave horror. I thought with citrus and pepper it would be lighter and fruitier than Patchouli, so I bought it. ¡Errooooooooooooooor!!!!! Does anyone remember the cheap clones from the 70s and 80s trying to imitate Chanel No. 5 and ending up smelling like a petrol station pump? That’s where Ambre Gris is heading. Rose? Jasmine? Who says? Like Patchouli, it has a nasty labdanum, a Puleva shake-style artificial, glucosey vanilla, and the usual synthetic amber in full force. A nightmare. It has the cloying sweetness of the stench of a decomposing animal. It’s not far from the nauseating smell that flooded my parents’ house when a rat died in the roof space. Few perfumes cause such disgust and repulsion, and this one succeeds.

Ambre Gris is an interpretation of amber that offers pure, subtle, and simple amber, yet with a refined simplicity, stylish and gentle, sober, elegant, and androgynous, which I have loved immensely. Here on Fragrantica it is catalogued as feminine, but the box and bottle carry the unisex symbol; I tested it a while ago for the first time and the lady at the perfumery offered it as unisex, otherwise I wouldn’t have noticed. It is an amber accord, sweet and balsamic, with wonderful luminosity and freshness. In the opening, that sweet amber note yields to subtle citrus, fresh, and fruity nuances, which do not eclipse the warmth of the amber but add freshness. This opening is ephemeral, lasting nothing. Then, subtly, the fragrance becomes powdery with ethereal, translucent floral wafts, very pretty, creating an ambered, warm, and highly talcum-like scent, reminiscent of powder puffs, but not just any powder puff—rather, an 18th-century French dressing table with powdered wigs and overflowing with ultra-expensive makeup powder. Gradually, a more resinous and masculine amber emerges, sweet yet rough and vanillaised, where a creamy sandalwood threads through, correcting the previous talcum note and revealing a cruder, woodier amber accord, though equally precious. In my opinion, it is mainly feminine, but I have no problem wearing it. The beginning is the most feminine part; then, as it develops, it loses that excessive femininity and reveals a more wearable scent for a man. Although I have more masculine ambers, this seems equally very good. The performance is good; on my skin it lasted about 8 hours, although its projection is moderate and soft, making it an intimate and close fragrance. I see its use as appropriate in cold and temperate climates, day or night; it is not intrusive or annoying, so it is very versatile. Highly recommended for women who enjoy these amber accords; for men, I would only recommend it if you are open-minded and like these notes, otherwise better not to try it as you might deem it feminine. In any case, I managed to buy the 50ml Eau de Parfum online for €10; I didn’t risk much as I already knew the scent, as I mentioned at the start, but at that price, there is nothing to lose.