When it comes to fragrance, I’m often a Road Less Traveled kind of guy. News of the latest Armani, Diesel or John Varvatos launch doesn’t put a gleam in my eye, and James Franco can glower and pout all he wants, but Gucci aint prying the credit cards out of my wallet no time, no how.
Which is why Prada’s L’Eau Ambrée was such a surprise when I first (literally) bumped into a shelf of it last August while visiting Bergdorf Goodman with a horde of the most devoted scent-heads you ever did see.
I was attempting to surreptitiously back my way out of the Creed sales area (Creed and I haven’t been on speaking terms since I made the mistake of tangling with Green Irish Tweed a few years ago, but the sales assistant was so friendly and helpful that I didn’t want to be rude) when I did a mild crash-bang into a wall display of the Prada L’Eau Ambrée, which had only just been released. In my best “I meant to do that!“ manner, I grabbed the modernist gray and gold L’Eau Ambrée bottle from the glass shelf, plucked off its shiny cap and gave it a desultory sniff.
One word summation of the moment: KaPow!
My brain jerked sideways and I did an immediate double take at the transparent sense of green leaves underscored by soft woods and sweet sugars. I stared, blinking, at the bottle I held in my hand as if, at any moment, it might morph into an object that didn’t have the word “Prada” emblazoned across its front.
I numbly replaced the bottle on its shelf and made a beeline for the By Kilian counter in order to wipe that burgeoning global fashion house fragrance smile from off my face, but almost six months later, I found myself still thinking about that unexpectedly pleasant encounter with Prada, which meant that it was time to explore the matter with a little more diligence and a lot less suspicion.
Octavian Sever Coifan at 1000Fragrances writes: “I was seduced in the first 3 seconds … (b)ut the most surprising effect is on the skin. After several hours, I forgot that I was testing the perfume when suddenly I found myself mesmerized by a divine scent floating around me . . . It doesn’t smell like perfume, it smells like a human presence . . . It is a perfume of sensual texture without contrasts and classic shape, more like a morphing architecture for the future with the pure Prada stamp.”
He also mentions the airy freshness of the piece, which is what’s most surprising about L’Eau Ambrée, that it’s an ambery oriental shot through with a breezy, clean vibe. And I totally get what he’s referring to when he mentions its “human presence” — I’ve had the same thing happen to me numerous times during the past two week testing period. I’ll be engrossed in work, tap tap tapping away at my keyboard when suddenly I’m wrapped in a warm flourish of clean skin and hair mixed with hints of incense smoke, vanilla and polished woods.
It’s as if a good friend just slid into the seat right next to mine and leaned in to say hello.
Robin at Now Smell This writes: “It’s like a very transparent take on the dry woody amber-patchouli from the original Prada fragrance crossed with a bit of the creamy men’s soap from Prada Amber Pour Homme . . . The floral notes are subdued and it’s more dry than sweet. It’s darkish and warm, but it’s so light that you could wear it anywhere, anytime, and there’s nothing overtly feminine about it.”
While March at Perfume Posse says this: “It strikes me as the sort of scent you could get away with wearing in almost any but the most strict no-frag zones . . . I wear it pretty regularly in the summer, and/or at times when I need something clean and stealthy . . . It dries down and fades away but has a habit of popping up again and again, all day long.”
Official listed scent notes for L’Eau Ambrée are: cedrat (mandarine orange), rose de mai, gardenia, jasmine and an amber accord composed of patchouli, vanilla and opoponax. It goes on pretty strong right out of the bottle, but don’t be intimidated — in order to get its best effects throughout the day, a generous application is required. Just make sure you’re not entering an elevator or sliding into a crowded subway train without first giving the fragrance some breathing time (about 30 minutes) on your skin.
Reviewers at Makeup Alley have complained that it vanishes after only an hour or two, but this is definitely not true — L’Eau Ambrée hangs on for a good eight hours (if not longer), but it wears softly and tends to perform that disappearing/reappearing act throughout the day. And though it wears fairly close to the skin, it’s still noticeable to those around you (provided you’ve applied more than one or two sprays).
I don’t go as heavy with L’Eau Ambrée as I do with other independently produced fragrances that contain a high proportion of natural oils, but I’ve found that six to eight sprays from head to toe works optimally (and I do mean head to toe — don’t concentrate the application all on the upper body or you’ll feel like you’re swimming in the stuff), though I’ll be the first to admit that my application is geared more to home and open-air settings than an enclosed office environment.
The box is an attractive mix of white, black and gold, and I’m a big fan of the bottle’s sleek design: hefty glass, clean lines, the graduated gray to black hue and the gleaming gold accents, but the atmomizer leaks like a m*********er and my fingers are pretty much dripping with fragrance after spraying.
I hate that.
But leaky atomizer aside, L’Eau Ambrée has been an excellent introduction to the world of Prada fragrances, and for a dedicated amber/incense lover like myself, its fresh, airy nature makes it a terrific option for carrying that fondness for sweet and smoky fragrances through to the upcoming hot summer months.
