Where do I start? At a church in the presence of a burning thurible? In a dry dessert on the spice trail? A drop of myrrh? Maybe I should start with a shade of amber, a shade so golden and orange, deep and clear, so warm, so comforting, so rich and regal it is the shade to end all shades. No perfume has had me coming back to it at a shop as frequently or as obsessively as Serge Lutens Ambre Sultan. A perfume that to my nose is the single-most perfect perfume (dare I say) ever. True, I may be a little late to the game (released in 1993). True, it sounds like I may be rubbing the perfumer’s ego (Christopher Sheldrake’s), however I can not deny how much I adore Ambre Sultan, or describe how good it smells. How can something smell so god-damn good? How can it move me so? Where do I start?
Amber beginnings
I think it started a few months ago actually. I had recently split myself between Belfast and home working part-time over the holidays. Making fairly frequent trips to all the perfume jaunts around town. I came to House of Fraser and there I found the Serge Lutens line. I remember hearing about this brand before, the classic bell jars, the elegant design, but I never went in, I never smelled them before. What I do remember was stopping my perfume-sampling-gorge-fest and pausing, I was in the presence of something I knew I wanted to get to know. I wanted to familiarise myself with this juice. I wanted to know it’s skin, it’s character, it’s life. I pocketed the scent strip and lashed my neck with the shop tester. I’d be back.
And back I came, frequently. I was in every week, “Can I help you?” “No thank-you, I’m just browsing.” Yeah right. They knew it, I knew it, I only came in to spray and go. I was that customer (I won’t deny my right to do this anywhere mind you). And as the weeks went by I kept warming to Ambre Sultan, like it’s dry-down, I was warming up. Why was I always finding myself coming back to it? Of all the choices and all the “that’s nice’s” why was it so compelling?
Because the others were “nice” and this wasn’t.
It’s the quality, it has to be. I’ve since tried other amber offerings from Armani Privé, Prada and L’Artisan Parfumer. Yet none of theirs left as deep an impression. Ambre Sultan, on me, just works. It’s as simple as that. It’s as if it’s the perfume I’ve been waiting to wear all my life. Like someday it knew I would come along and it would whisper through my nostrils, up my brain and make that mark any perfume lover knows all too well. It feels so familiar and foreign, precious and perfect.
So, what does the best perfume ever smell like?
When I first wear it, it’s incense. That frankincense, arid feel, prickly and serious is noticeable but not demanding. The faint memories of mass and funerals are glowing ambers in my mind. It’s bitter and balsamic, never sour and offensive. After a few hours, Ambre Sultan never lets go, it has a brilliant tenaciousness that at the turn of my head, the warm spices encircle and the amber theme is always present. Sweet, without a cloying feel. Woody, without the pencil shavings. Glowing, without being blinded. There’s not a flower in sight and I’m in heaven. It’s the epitome of resinous and warmth. Everything about this perfume feels considered, balanced, like Sheldrake knew exactly what he was doing. And who am I to fault this? I can’t. Everything develops at the right pace, the right way with the right feel. Even the gentle embossed texture of the bottle’s label and box feels right (not specific to Ambre Sultan, but there you go).
Call it love at first sniff, head over heels or “Ok, we get it, Liam,” but Ambre Sultan has made it into my nook, the nook where only a select few perfumes make. Cuddle up to me and my nook and I’ll probably be wearing this.
What do you think?
Is Ambre Sultan the best perfume ever? Can you say that about a perfume you own? Am I letting my heart run away with itself? ;)
