Nemat International Musk Amber Perfume Oil

After such success with Kuumba Made Amber Paste, and having read some positive reviews of Nemat oils (an Indian brand carried at my local Whole Foods/Whole Body), I gave several Nemat scents a test drive. Unlike Kuumba Made, I don't think Nemat oils are all natural. (But so what, I thought to myself, neither are most perfumes.) If one were to really love a Nemat fragrance or two, they can all be bought in larger sizes at great wholesale prices from the Nemat site.

Majmua: Too sharp and harsh for me, but still had a soapy drydown. The floral element of this fragrance was much weaker than the wood/herb/resin part.

Gardenia: Nice in the bottle and not too sweet. However, this blossomed into a total disaster on my skin. This “gardenia” quickly morphed into the strongest, most nostril-singing soap smell I have experienced. A true scrubber.

Narcissus: Seemed nice at first, a mild white floral and just sweet enough. Given The Other Half’s preference for not too floral scents on me, I thought I might be able to layer this with something else (musk?) and make it work for him. But, it too dried down soapy, though thankfully not in the brain searing fashion of the gardenia.

Himilayan Musk: An interesting one. Sort of a woodsy, piney musk. I think it could be worn easily by a man as well.

Vanilla Musk: Lord, that is one sweet scent. Too sweet for me, even if TOH would like its vanilla-ness.

Musk Amber: This one’s a winner. A kinder, gentler amber scent. Almost a skin scent on me. Not the intense, dark amber of the Kuumba Made Amber Paste, but a sweet, resinous warmth mixed with light musk. Upon first applying the Musk Amber, the amber dominates, but as time goes on the musk shifts into the foreground. If one were to be overwhelmed by KM’s Amber Paste, this might be a good way to get one’s ambery toes wet.

The Other Half Says: Are you wearing one of mine? (No.) Seriously, you are. Right? (No.)

But ultimately he enjoys it because he can detect a bit of the vanilla that goes into an amber scent.

Coco EdP

Coco opens with a sharper, somewhat citrusy-spice, and mellows into a heavier, blended (but rosy) floral-spice and finally sinks into vanilla-amber-spice before disappearing. Coco stays spicy and resinous throughout its development. A warm, perfumey floriental for a late fall day. Best to spritz lightly, because the fragrance is strong and could become overwhelming in the sillage department with an overzealous application.

This is a scent for grownups. I would not give this to a little girl who wants to spray on pretty perfume like mommy, nor to a girlish woman who wants to be cute with something light and candy-sweet. Audacious women wear Coco. It is about classic, self-possessed sensuality. My favorite thing is that it connotes strength and charisma without mimicking a man’s cologne. I love that it is both fearless and fiercely feminine.

The Other Half Says: (upon returning home from work) Mmm... is it you that smells so good?

Angelica, Mimosa, Frangipani, Mandarin, Cascarilla, Orange Flower, Bulgarian Rose, Jasmine, Labdanum, Ambrette Seed, Opopanax, Benzoin, Tonka, Vanilla.

Amber, my love.

I thought, because of a brief and disappointing interest in fragrance oils from Black Phoenix Alchemy (BPAL), that "amber" in a fragrance made it smell like crap on me. Turns out it was just BPAL. Fun, creative perfume business with a big following, but mostly doesn't work for me.

Since setting out in the world (mall) to experience many fragrances for and on myself, I have discovered that I actually love the smell of amber. Which begged the question: What the hell is amber? That yellowy fossil-sap-rock thing in jewelry and paperweights?

It took a while but here is the answer, as I currently understand it, pulling from numerous sources. Many perfumes claim to have an amber note in them or to smell entirely of amber. This seems to imply that amber is a particular thing-- like roses. It's not. Amber is more like a general scent concept. It is a warm, sweet, woody, resinous scent that is created with natural and/or synthetic ingredients. Even if you buy something advertised as all natural amber oil, it is still a mixture of different plant substances blended to achieve the scent concept called "amber". And, of course, the exact smell of a particular company's version of amber is particularly apt to smell different than that put out by another company because it's a mixture, an interpretation of a concept anyway.

Okay, so I really like amber. I want to be able to put amber in hot chocolate and coffee and cookies. I want amber hard candy. I want to stick cotton balls soaked in amber fragrance into my nostrils so I can smell it constantly. To this end, I have tried two "pure" amber fragrances and purchased one.

Annick Goutal - Ambre Fetiche: I tried this EdP at Dillards. It was my first experience of something that was just amber. It was sweet, spicy and dark, but not harsh or skanky. It was also unbelievably strong. And I have scent-eating skin. So for about an hour super strong and then suddenly, preciptiously: gone. Still, I learned that Amber had potential. Notes include: frankincense, labdanum, styrax, benzoin, iris

Kuumba Made - Amber Paste: This is a natural, dark brown goo in a 1/8th ounce glass bottle. It cost $9 at Whole Foods. People on the Internet say it is too strong. I say it is heavenly and just right. It is a combination of sunny warmth on pine boughs and rich earth and curling up with a good book in a brown leather armchair and sweet incense on a home altar, with a pinch of long, black eyelashes knowingly cast downward for good measure. It is dark and rich and although it is sweet, the sweetness is nothing at all like those weird, fruity body sprays that were all the rage in high school. It is dark, spicy sweet. Also, I find that the goo doesn't fling the scent into the air as much as an alcohol-based spray does. So, even though amber itself is a pretty heavy fragrance, this rich goo isn't going to bowl folks over as I walk past.

Oh, and I learned that trail of scent when you walk past-- it has a name: sillage.