Une Nuit à Oman - Ambre Khandjar Une Nuit Nomade 2019

Une Nuit à Oman - Ambre Khandjar by Une Nuit Nomade

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7.9 / 10 236 Ratings

Une Nuit à Oman - Ambre Khandjar is a popular perfume by Une Nuit Nomade for women and men and was released in 2019. The scent is spicy-resinous. The longevity is above-average. It is still available to purchase.

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Main accords

Spicy

Resinous

Oriental

Sweet

Smoky

Fragrance Pyramid

Top Notes

Black plum

Mandarin orange

Heart Notes

Labdanum absolute

Orris absolute

Vanilla

Ylang-ylang

Base Notes

Patchouli

Benzoin

Sandalwood

Perfumer

Jérôme Di Marino

Ratings

Scent

7.9236 Ratings

Longevity

8.1210 Ratings

Sillage

7.5208 Ratings

Bottle

7.7172 Ratings

Value for money

7.7103 Ratings

Submitted by Ergoproxy, last update on 01.06.2023.

Interesting Facts

This fragrance is part of the "Une Nuit à Oman" collection.

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8 in-depth fragrance descriptions

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10/10/2020

8
Bottle 8
Sillage 8
Longevity 7
Scent

Parfümlein

Translated Show original

Parfümlein

Top Review 28

This night is only for men

Une nuit à Oman - that can hardly be an invitation to me. The scent is so dark and smoky that I instantly like to remember that I am a girl (or what is left of it, ok). Exactly - I think of lilac, daffodils and roses, of peaches and dragées. Honestly: I'd rather play female and wear a mainstream flowery-sugar-scented dress than to lean out of the window in such a masculine way. Because perfume should be fun! And here I have the feeling that I'm stuck in an incredibly difficult test and want to hand in an empty hand. I just can't do this! Where do you expect to find something fruity in this perfume? Of course, there's a plum, yes. But it's so heavily alcoholized, so dark and tearful that the Chinese plum brandy turns out to be good-night cocoa. And it's immediately covered in an incredible amount of resinous smoke. Dark and dangerous, without ever being erotic - the scent is a clear statement: "I don't want to please anyone here, only myself," he shouts to me. An oriental night, an elderly, white-robed, world-experienced sheikh, with a cigar, after an opulent meal, the sweet fruits still on the chased silver tray, yes, I can imagine. But the fruits are not for the sheikh, he has to watch his line and therefore he gets hazy at the many smoky oil lamps, which smell of resin, to dampen his appetite. This is what this nuit à Oman looks like. For those of us who stayed at home, who love a minimally fruity start and like it only too much when it is briskly overlaid by darkest labdanum, which only slowly lets a woody touch shimmer through between the tangy-smoky resinous swaths, while vanilla and even patchouli are protectively thrown under the swath - for us, this fragrance is perfect for the very coldest days of the year. When I let go of the Oman fantasy, I see this fragrance in the crazy cold winter, in the frost, when the chimneys are smoking invitingly and candles are in the windows. That moment when the fireplace is lit, this dark, bitter-serious ensemble of burnt wood notes comes quite close to the scent or, what is actually more appropriate anyway, the scent of a good, high-quality incense cone, which robs any sweet cookie smell in the smoking man's Advent rooms at the speed of light. Such a cone of incense, which smells more than just smoky, which has light fruit notes in it, is very well comparable with Ambre Khandjar. Therefore the scent fits best into the winter. To me it fits, although it looks very noble, unfortunately not so well. But that does not matter. I still find it very successful for those who like these aromas

08/05/2019

7
Bottle 8
Sillage 8
Longevity 7.5
Scent

pudelbonzo

Translated Show original

pudelbonzo

Top Review 16

The Heat is on ...

... it's humming on the radio.

Yes, we already know that - only how to switch the heat off?

Maybe you should take a look at the weather conditions in Reykjavik ?

Aha on the island of the fairies and trolls 16 degrees prevail - predominantly sunny.
I would like to have the breeze blowing around my nose on a comfortable Icelandic horse.

But maybe an oriental scent harmonizes me with the hot temperatures ?

And Ambre Khadjar immediately puts me on a noble camel that walks with me majestically.

The air flickers over the desert sand - but on the horizon a sea fata morgana appears.
This vision carries tart mandarin and soft plum with it.
Smooth vanilla is gently powdered over by iris - and despite its warmth, Khandjar doesn't make me sweat.

Of course it is not cooling down, because the patch glows golden brown in the background.

A real, valuable Oriental, which doesn't bother me - but still belongs in winter.

Then he will unfold his cuddly cosiness perfectly.

11/09/2021

10
Bottle 7
Sillage 9
Longevity 8
Scent

4ajbukoshka
2 Reviews

Translated Show original

4ajbukoshka

Helpful Review 19

Winter fairy tale and homelessness

He sauntered. Slowly. Leisurely. Not "through the Omani market" (MCPS), but through a small town, his town. And to the limits of his being. It was just after midnight and from the last shop, the shisha cafe, which had now closed, he had just been kindly escorted out the door. He frowned. People seemed a little afraid of him. Or was it disgust? He wasn't sure as he let his nose wander unobtrusively towards his armpit. Did he stink? The day before yesterday was the last time he'd had a chance to shower. To stink would be hell on earth for him. (He didn't believe in a hell in heaven anyway.) Other than that, he didn't care about almost anything. As he walked on, lost in thought, towards the city forest, looking for a warm place, a familiar face came closer and closer to him. Karl, on his way to his park bench, had apparently stocked up once again. Karl was an alcoholic, but one of the kindest and friendliest people he'd come across at this hour, when he'd better not be seen outside. Who knew where he'd be sent. (He knew, and he was determined not to go there. One day, he was firmly convinced, everything would be better anyway and there was no way he would end up like Karl) He paused for a brief moment, lifted his head and waved at Karl. "Hey little one! I didn't even recognize you, it's so dark out here!" he apologized. (Little one. If he heard that already. Hopefully no one else heard that.) "I brought you something." he pulled a can and a bottle out of his backpack. Karl's eyes twinkled and a third probably couldn't look as fast as he put on and drank the potion. "You don't know what you're missing. Boy boy, it's cold as sh*t out here." He knew that. He was incredibly cold in his jacket, which he didn't take inside with him to anyone's house for fear it would reveal where and with whom he spent his nights. He'd like to be that one guy who didn't freeze in shorts in the winter. But he wasn't. Karl gave him a hint as to where he should go now. "What about you?" - "I'm not welcome there. But you can say I sent you. They know." Poor Karl. One more time he rubbed his hands together over Karl's little campfire that the had made in a metal public trash can. Then he sauntered on. The snow didn't stay yet. But it was still freezing. The plumes of smoke rising from the chimneys spoke for themselves-and against a mild winter. It would be his last out here. First and last. Arriving at the address Karl had given him, he took his hands out of his pockets for the first time. No frostbite. It wasn't that bad yet. He knocked the appointed beat and an older gentleman opened the door suspiciously. "What are you doing here? Looking for someone?" - "Karl sent me. He said I could stay here."
He was eyed up and down.
"Little one, how long have you been out there? And why, anyway?"
He was about to leave again. Who knows if these people could be trusted and he could get a wink of sleep tonight. Better not. Karl had forgotten who he was sending where. He looked around and was surrounded by hulking figures. And he could give them nothing. I wish he hadn't given all the provisions to Karl.
"Now leave the poor child alone. Come on in. Here, we have some soup. Eat, child, eat."
He didn't take two words for that. He was given food and a blanket. A soft blanket. The fact that he was still scared was probably evident on his face. When he was done, heavy hands suddenly rested on his shoulders. Hopefully he wouldn't just fall over. He wasn't going to keel over. He lay down to sleep, using his backpack as a pillow. That way no one could take anything from him. He thought. The next morning he woke up. His head hurt a little, his back as well, and he was suddenly far too warm in his jacket. One of the gentlemen was sitting by the fireplace, grinning at him as he carried the contents of his backpack into the fire.
"I don't know what you're dragging these things here for, but without the plastic covers, the booklets make good firewood." How could anyone have pulled his backpack out from under him during the night? "Those are my school books! Give them back to me please, I have to go now."
He grabbed his belongings before the older man could even say "School? How old are you anyway?!" could cross his lips.
He was seventeen. It was the 23rd of December. Christmas was just around the corner. It was winter. Perhaps the most humble winter of his life. He set off, heading for the school where the janitor had washed his clothes together with the rags the day before yesterday. They should be dry by now. Then he would change and no one would think of noticing where he was coming from.
Arriving at the school as arranged, the janitor opened the door to the large auditorium for him. He still had pastry pieces left over from yesterday. "Don't you want to know what it is first?" laughed Sir Hausi, a little embarrassed.
No, he didn't care. He didn't care about anything. Tomorrow was Christmas and the school would be closed. There had to be a solution.
Because real life was not a fairy tale. In his case, it told the story of a young person who was a little too old for his age.
And yet he continued to believe that everything would be all right.
One day

10/05/2021

8
Pricing 9
Bottle 8
Sillage 9
Longevity 9.5
Scent

TheScent

Translated Show original

TheScent

Helpful Review 17

A noble Oriental

I like oud, but the flood of oud and oudesken Oriental sometimes with leather, sometimes vanilla sometimes even more wood bores me a bit. All the nicer to experience once an Oriental, which does without just that popular ingredient. Ambre Khandjar is a gourmand, smoky oriental that oscillates between spice, sweetness and a dry fruitiness. I perceive other dried fruits in addition to the prune. So I clearly perceive the creamy, sweet scent of dried citrus with its underlying acidity. The vanilla here smells like the pod smells when you take it out of the glass tube to bake. Also dry and subliminally noticeable all the time. The woods entering in the course are not clearly smoky, but combine skillfully sweetish freshness with smoky, dark depth.

A rather extraordinary fragrance that is definitely distinctive. He seems noble and daring at the same time. I have a very specific type of woman before my eyes, which would stand the fragrance very well. However, Ambre Khandjar forms quite a masculine aura. And the first gray hairs should already show in its wearer, so as not to look ridiculous on him.

I have worn it now really often and can say that with this fragrance less is more. The sillage is very good but especially with this fragrance all the more exciting when it moves rather marbled around the wearer. The reactions of the environment are really most exciting.

09/24/2021

6
Sillage 9
Longevity 9
Scent

ElfeLotta

Translated Show original

ElfeLotta

Helpful Review 11

Une nuit sublime!

Whoo!! Shock! Sweet! Sour! Gummy??
I'm confused. It's not just my thoughts escaping me - it's like the whole scent keeps disappearing, reappearing, disappearing again, there it is again...
Ohhh, damn! What is this? What does this remind me of??? Wood? Something very distantly woodsy?
My mind jumps to various faraway places...forest-sun-forest-sun...
It gets a bit more tart and somehow there's a note buzzing around me here that I can't place at all - so subtle and peculiar that I don't even know if it's from this perfume...
Every now and then I'm assailed by a very strangely confusing mixture of fruity and ... hm ... smoky? Is this smoky? Will it still be smoky? (I can't help thinking of church in between, Easter fires, incense, but only very distantly...)
Yep, that buzzing scent around me is definitely from the perfume, sweet-fruity, but so distant, so alienated...

So much for the first impression.

When my jumbled thoughts can sort themselves out a bit and think straight again, I decide to approach it from the "official" side:

Aha! A look at the fragrance pyramid clarifies: Labdanum = a resin (that should explain the forest association), which is also gladly smoked (na? smokes it?) and is extracted from various species of cistus in the Mediterranean - especially from the Cretan (Ha! Here I can perhaps classify the sunny travel feeling)
Metallic - that would also be a fitting description. Every now and then flashes a smell like in the past, when my hand slipped around an iron climbing pole for a long time. And lo and behold, the official description actually says: "A scent that is at once reminiscent of tanned skin and skin cooled by metal." :O Well, hello! So a khandjar is a dagger. Learned something again.

After about 20 minutes, I notice the first touch of vanilla. The sweetness before then was probably more plum, if I take a look at the official notes. Yes, the comparisons with plum brandy I can increasingly understand... If I now still knew how Ylang Ylang smells... And sandalwood I also still do not know well enough to be able to identify it I'm afraid... Does not matter. There's enough to discover in there as it is. I can't stop sniffing, it's so fascinating! Each time it smells somehow different - and yet always similar. And again and again it sighs in me with pleasure, before I then, nevertheless, something zurückcke if it becomes too intensive.

After an hour or so, the whole thing has finally settled on a comparatively stable resinous-sweetish mixture with a sour touch, which is always on the verge of disturbing me, but then keeps politely smiling in the background. And it gets darker. "Easter Mass" is now quite present as an association, but without the classic incense, but with something else ... something "behind" it ... That smell in the dark, as if warming from within, when the Easter candle is carried into the cold, dark church and - slowly, pew by pew - more and more timid flames flare up, sending comforting shivers down the spine of the child listening as if spellbound, while familiar, strange sounds resonate through the stone hall. And as the tension eases with time and my excited little heart calms, it becomes comfortingly warm in that scent. And that lasts. Sublime!

Would I wear it? Hm... I can imagine days when it would be just right for me; when I feel like sitting wrapped in a warm coat at the dark edge of the action and watch people in peace of mind, without wanting to interfere; when nothing pushes me; when I'm just there - right there! - while people come and go and I exchange friendly words, a smile here and there - and that's all it takes to be satisfied. Then I would wear it with relish!
Most of the time, though, I'd rather let him hold me. That way I'd be well prepared for a bone-chillingly cold night by the Easter fire.
For now, it's autumn.
That's all right. For the I am also well prepared with it.
And for the winter.
Long enough lingers the fragrance always.

Meanwhile, I say goodbye.
Thanks for reading!

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