Ambra del Nepal Spezierie Palazzo Vecchio Eau de Parfum

I recall that I really loved the sample of Ambre de Nepal I got 15 years ago and I decided to splurge on a full bottle last month. I tell you what: if nothing else, finally writing reviews on all the fragrances I own is an exercise in both recognizing and reconciling with myself how much my tastes have changed over the years. When I recently smelled this out of the box, I was immediately like, wow man, this is a real ice cream sandwich of a scent. As if you took an ancient chunk of bronzed, powdery amber resin and churned it up with rock salt, whole milk, fresh cream, and about 50 vanilla bean pods-- which you’d probably have to take out a small loan for because those things aren’t cheap. And then you baked up some really squidgie brown sugar blondies with a hint of cardamom, cut them into uneven rectangles because precision is not your strong point and your glasses prescription is outdated, and then you piled your creamy frozen amber confection between two of those lopsided cookies. But you immediately wrapped them up in the freezer because let’s face it, you don’t really like sweets anymore, so why did you make this in the first place? Much like those imaginary ice cream sandwiches, now hidden behind a bag of frozen peas for eternity, this perfume probably won't see the light of day for a long time.

Right after waking up, along with the first cup of coffee, my first fragrance choice was "Ambra del Nepal".
This ritual opens every day and has proven to be very valuable for me.
For this restless Sunday, still feeling the effects of the big nighttime thunderstorm (as I do), this fragrant friend seemed like the right morning companion.
Only my tired self forgot that the amber scents I love and cherish remind me of a very special person. And that memory makes me sad.
Thus, "Ambra del Nepal" was drowned during an extensive bath; it certainly did not deserve that!
It was replaced by something "amber"-free; which was not too difficult given my collection.

But "Ambra del Nepal" still deserves attention.
The first time I encountered it was on the Facebook page of the brand: "I Profumi di Firenze" announced that "Ambra del Nepal" was completely sold out and that the company was working hard to fill the gap quickly. But whether that would happen before Christmas was questionable at the time.
Now, I hold their fragrance compositions particularly dear: they were the ones who, along with Jo Malone, led me to my perfume renaissance and ultimately here.

The complexity of this interesting fragrance makes it difficult for me to categorize the scent progression according to the classic pattern
"The top note is the entrance, which easily fades away. The heart note is the drumroll to the base note, which brings the grand long-lasting finale."
"Ambra del Nepal" does not need to announce itself: this fragrance creation is immediately and almost completely present.
Coriander playfully mingles between dark oak moss and a slightly lustful dose of musk.
Golden patchouli and sensual sandalwood aroma accompany it; the warm vanilla embraces this successful melange of fragrance notes.
Only the resinous beauty of amber and incense take a moment to appear: then they also show up and let "Ambra del Nepal" shine.

A spicy-warm, sensory awakening fragrance whole has been created here.
Whereby the guiding idea of "I Profumi di Firenze", to awaken the memories of the soul with "Ambra del Nepal", proves to be quite successful for me.

"Ambra del Nepal" comes with the grandeur of a noble Florentine; elegant and generous, it exudes its interesting fragrance essence.
Like a charming conversation, this fine gentleman accompanies for several hours: a gentle ebb and flow of fragrance facets, a calm trickling of nuances, until "Ambra del Nepal" bids farewell with a felt polite tip of the hat: Arrivederci!

This enchanting Florentine has also scented his way into my heart, and I will surely spend some very beautiful hours with him.
Not immediately, but here too "Panta rhei" applies - the right time together will come!

Just yesterday, I described Chaman's Party as smoky and woody, but that one is just a tired little water compared to Ambra del Nepal. Here, I was literally left breathless at first, and I had to endure a coughing fit before I really knew what was happening to me. This scent reminds me once again of my childhood. Sorry, I know I often say that, but that's how I can best describe how I experience a fragrance.

Anyone who, like me, has lived in times when you couldn't just turn up the heating when it got cold, but had to stoke coal stoves, knows how it smells when the chimney doesn’t draw properly, or when once a year the stove pipes were taken apart and the old soot had to be removed with wire brushes. The mixture of coriander, patchouli, and incense is the smokiest, mustiest, scratchiest, and yet most persistent thing I have encountered in my fragrance excursions so far. For me, Ambra del Nepal is simply not acceptable. Although when I think of Nepal, I think of clear mountain air and less of nomads wandering through the land with their yaks and tents, preparing their food over an open fire.
This scent is completely unacceptable to me. There I sat, trying to get rid of this unpleasant smell. Hand washing had no chance, rubbing with cologne - no effect. So I resorted to my last resort and rubbed the spot for quite a while with salad oil. The oil sometimes binds with the essential oils of the fragrance. In a way, reverse enfleurage. And lo and behold, after about fifteen minutes and another hand wash, there is only a very faint trace left, which I can only perceive when I bring my nose close to my skin. I will do my best to avoid that in the next few hours.

Now I’m pondering how such a “fragrance” can come from Italy and how it is possible that Ambra del Nepal has even found admirers.

In the first seconds, AdN seems to throw everything it has to offer at me: herbal, peppery, sweet, and something I can't quite identify. But then it settles into something resembling a fragrance progression, starting off as dull-herb green with a peppery hint in the background. Both the herb and the seeds of coriander seem to have been used, but more like dried herbs, as the characteristic soapiness and freshness of coriander green are missing.

What follows gradually is a difficult-to-separate mélange of amber, patchouli, oak moss, incense, musk, and vanilla. It is slightly sweet, spicy, smoky, creamy, and warming. Occasionally, the herbal notes from the beginning peek through again. Towards the end of the progression, vanilla pushes to the forefront, and I have a vanilla-dominant caramelized candy on my skin. The candy is sweet but still carries the memory of the once-present spiciness.

The longevity is okay; I can perceive AdN for 7 - 8 hours. I find the sillage to be mediocre to average.

At first, I couldn't warm up to the dull herb and the later sweetness, and I was a bit disappointed that the vanilla was interpreted as sweet. Today, on day 3, I like "Ambra del Nepal" well; it fits nicely into this season, and purchasing a 50 ml bottle is almost a done deal.

I thank Inala for the testing opportunity.

Postscript: Yesterday, I could perceive AdN until bedtime - of course, with my nose almost on my wrist - meaning it lasted over 12 hours. During this "fragrance experience," I noticed woody notes with a hint of vanilla in the background.

It rises strangely airy from my arm, with a spacious portion of all the aforementioned innards; thick, slightly sweet, and heavy, the notes weigh in the air.
The listed ingredients are discernible from the start, provided you know them, for this fragrance is well interwoven. Although rough and angular, no accord unnecessarily screams or blares around the corners; even though the scent comes through penetratingly and with a loudly swollen chest.
Inside, a spicy, bright sharp coriander note nestles against quiet but dark patchouli and incense tones. The labdanum resin along with amber strives to be both pillow and blanket for all these notes, so to speak, enveloping them and making them sluggish and pleasantly warm as amber del Nepal begins.
Dirty, tarry accents of amber traverse this spicy, narcotic cloud, and I find this peculiar way of a fragrance appealing.

The coriander takes away some of the heaviness of the scent, not that it becomes lighter in the immediate sense, but the peppery sharpness gives the fragrance a smoky, perhaps even ethereal character. This discordant scent image resonates well with the buzzing tones of labdanum, and I perceive the idea itself as almost innovative.
However, it seems to me that it is all excessively much, too much coriander, too much amber and labdanum, and far too much of too many remnants that one can still discern in between.

As the scent progresses, it refines itself with some honey-like notes, it becomes sweeter but even heavier, almost clumsy now. Amber del Nepal unfortunately behaves somewhat awkwardly with so much olfactory weight, it pulls it downwards at every corner; thus, the scent begins to settle after a short time, or rather, it starts to congeal.

Now a chocolate-like patchouli, along with incense clamor, emerges from a belly of labdanum. The incense here is not ethereal but heavily burdensome and shrouded in deep spicy tones. The notes become increasingly difficult to perceive, everything blurs into one; when individual aspects do emerge, they are soon swallowed again.
Thus, amber del Nepal, after half an hour of scent progression, collapses into a pudding-amber bastard.

One cannot speak of top, heart, and base with this fragrance, so one can begin reading this commentary wherever one wishes. It is a conglomerate where coriander and amber are predominant in the top, labdanum resin in the heart, and patchouli in the base.
Essentially, I am not a great lover of such overwhelming fragrances, yet I somehow like this one a little; it has something heavy about it, it is simple and even awkward, corpulent and almost decadent, coarse and scratchy, yet inside incredibly soft and cozy.