Ambilux

Ambilux is ambiguous only in the sense that it is puzzling that a list of largely plant-based spices, resins, and florals adds up to something so unapologetically animal. The first blast has our eyes rolling back in pleasure: a thickly furred musk redolent of warm animal, dripping tallow candles, and the salty skin of a loved one. That there are new perfumes out there that dare to challenge the great Muscs Khoublai Khan and Musc Tonkin is a pleasant surprise. Although Ambilux is quite different to these perfumes, it possesses the same earthy, no-holds-barred sensuality and a texture that is distinctly retro in its velvety thickness.

The creator intended for this perfume to reflect the unique olfactory fingerprint we all carry, our own personal aroma, imprinting onto others as we touch, kiss, and make contact. But like its distant progenitor, L’Air de Rien, it also captures the smells of our nest: dusty spaces, books, pots overflowing with flowers, and old wood. Despite the listed notes, what we predominantly pick up is a warm, oily sheep’s wool nuance – waxy and lanolin-like, deeply inviting to the touch. Costus root is what gives the perfume its arousing animal fattiness, but it is used subtly here, woven into the other notes for an effect that is intimate but not uncomfortably close. The sweet, slippery feel of the woolen musk is cut with a bright, almost briny ylang note, aerating the heart with a salty breeze. In the drydown, castoreum gives us nuances of dry, smoky tobacco and leather. Ambilux captures all the grimy intimacy of our own bodies, our loved ones, and the crawl spaces of our inner sanctum: it’s sexy, but also comfortable and elegant.