Did I write that I had already found my lipstick scent with Lipstick On? I thought I had. But then I received a bottle of Ambre et Vanille from Simetra. Thank you so much! As soon as I take the cap off the spray head, I think: lipstick! Creamy vintage lipstick! I love the scent of vintage lipstick, even though I already suspect my husband will find it old-fashioned. And of course, I had to spray it immediately: But, wow, what a surprise - uiii, that was lipstick with bergamot on heliotrope! Intense, very special. Suddenly, many other notes emerge behind it, and already in the second minute, the scent reminds me of Ligea by Carthusia, but that fades away by minute five. Now I wonder if I am dealing with a hidden chypre, but that fades away by minute seven as well. So, beware: The scent in this delicate sheep's wool bottle overwhelms the unsuspecting perfumer with the intensity of a wolf pack.
I have nothing against wolves; I am not a prey animal - or am I?
When I try to untangle these first seven minutes of the scent, I can describe it as follows: it starts with the lipstick note, which I trace back to iris, heliotrope, and a hint of tonka, with heliotrope being distinctly noticeable to me. At the same time, there is something citrusy fresh, which is also a bit bitter and smells most like bergamot to me. Immediately after that, many notes come together at once, and the scent gains immense complexity. Here are the oranges, I didn't pick out ylang-ylang like that, nor cinnamon, but the components blend together in a lively way, giving the scent an inner movement that almost overwhelms me. Now, through the citrus fruits, iris, and the first, only subtly perceptible hint of patchouli, an association of chypre seems to arise for me.
After these furious first seven minutes, the development fortunately slows down.
But another phenomenon appears: Directly on the skin, Ambre et Vanille now smells quite bitter and a bit sharp. I attribute this to the bitter orange. At about 25 centimeters away, a warm-sweet vintage lipstick appears, completely soft and without any harshness.
As if the scent is now divided.
I am completely captivated: On the skin, I still think a little of chypre, and somehow it feels uncomfortably bitter to me, yet it has a fascination reminiscent of creepy things. Smelled from a distance, it is exactly the opposite: It feels too plush-warm-sweet and yet, here too, there is a fascination: that of unrestrained flamboyance. On one hand, it seems so plushy and lipstick-like, appearing old-fashioned, but through the sweetness, it also comes off as somewhat candy-like and girlish. Crazy! So many contrasts, each evoking an intense ambivalence between enthusiasm and rejection within me.
This division of scent on the skin and at 25 cm distance lasts for about two hours, during which more and more vanilla joins both sections. From now on, Ambre et Vanille takes a more normal course.
A beautiful vanilla/heliotrope/tonka phase with iris emerges, with quite a bit of tonka, and for the first time, I notice that tonka, when intense, can also smell a bit sharp.
Over the course of the many following hours, the scent increasingly develops towards vanilla.
It lasts well over 15 hours in total. In the end, it remains for a long time simply as a soft, warm tonka and vanilla base with remnants of iris. Amber, even though listed in the name, I do not smell at any point.
I now have two lipstick scents. One is a go-to, and this one, Ambre et Vanille.
It doesn't work all the time. It will certainly divide opinions with its ability to evoke both enthusiasm and rejection simultaneously. The time of day and seasons are secondary.
I am fascinated by this scent and have not been able to let it go since I got it.
But in public: Beware! It can seem old-fashioned and plushy! It can scare people away! But it can certainly also lead to people not being able to detach themselves from the immediate scent aura. Those people would then be following you for 12-15 hours....