Amber Attar
Amouage (2009)

A wonderful interpretation of pure ambergris, though this won't be for everyone. It definitely comes across as a base note, rather than a full perfume. Be ready for a dry, dirty, woody, and earthy accord that takes you for an all-day ride.

Amouage, as of late, has been grim. There appears to be a fully-fledged westernization underway, and their recent offerings have leaned dangerously close to mainstream MOR homogeneity. So, smelling this fragrance is a nice change, but it's also a sad reminder of what Amouage were once capable of.

From what I understand, the brand has discontinued all of the attars (part of the westernization plan) and this one is sadly no longer available barring a few exclusive Saudi outlets that have remaining stock. But for those who bought it, even in the smaller 12ml size, it'll last you a lifetime as a single drop of this stuff absolutely explodes on the skin.

Although this is most likely a synthetic composition, it's an excellent ambergris perfume that's highly convincing from start to finish. The opening blast will be off-putting for anyone unfamiliar with what ambergris smells like–it's a sharp, acrid halitosis note that's part civet and part algae. But almost immediately the lactonic and grey vanilla qualities float to the surface, and what you have for (no kidding) the next 12 hours, is a bubble of animalic, oceanic warmth that's a little dry and scratchy (a cedar/sandalwood blend, I think), but totally encapsulating.

While I don't doubt that this contains some trace elements of actual sandalwood and ambergris, the scent is largely powered by a massive dose of ambroxan and cashmeran. The musty ocean effect is totally convincing, and it seems to stem from civet in part. I don't consider the fragrance to be a fully composed perfume on its own–it's more of a base; it'd be the kind of thing you could potentially layer another scent over but then you'd be sacrificing the beauty of the scent itself. And it is beautiful–powerful, evocative, and totally compelling. But be warned: it's not amber as experienced in modern perfumery (no vanilla-benzoin or powdered resins); it's quite a stinky affair overall.