Ambre Royale
Ormonde Jayne (2016)

Ormonde Jayne's Ambre Royale can be polarizing when smelled directly, but it transforms on the skin. Its soapy elegance and remarkable performance make it perfect for cooler months like autumn, spring and winter. This long-lasting unisex scent is an ethereal, clean choice for special occasions.

This is a light, citrusy amber blend with spring florals and a powdery finish. It does have darker notes like that hint of anise but it doesn’t smell like licorice at all. It’s more like a really nice hair spray on me. Eh.

A lovely, sophisticated smelling oriental. I adore the opening. My only issue is I don't feel its longevity is the best, but I'll have to try it in the winter when I'm not all blocked up by pollen... 4 stars

This is an oriental that contains some of my favorite notes. I get an light powdery amber note with touch of floral to make it different. This is an elegant amber that I think is best suited for night time wear and cooler weather.

This is a stretch, so bear with me – but is it possible that Ambre Royal is Ormonde Jayne's riposte to Maison Francis Kurkdjian's Baccarat Rouge 540? Both follow a basic formula of something candied joined to a spacey, metallic Ambrox overload that sends the whole thing shooting off into space. Both are sweet (in an acceptably masculine manner) and enormously radiant. Both fragrances affect me in an almost physical sense. Some portions leave me nose blind, while other portions drive an Ambrox-shaped ice pick into the most tender and vulnerable part of my brain. I can't wear either of them for an extended length of time without wanting to boil my skin off to make it stop, but I did anyway, because reviews based on a quick sniff rather than a full day's wear are only 10% of the story.

On my skin, Ambre Royal smells absolutely awful at first. I am assaulted by this sense of boiled sweets melted down and smeared over salty fishing tackle - a queasy mélange of Maltol, shiny lab musks, the sweaty, aftershavey radiance of Ambrox, and the bone-dry, faux-cedar crackle of Iso E Super. Smells like the essence of Man on steroids. But the Sporty Modern Man edition, because it sure is sweet.

But listen, this is Ormonde Jayne, and they are never just going to leave this accord hanging around all on its own like that. So the ugliness of the initial chords gets gentled down in a bed of powdery musks, amber, myrrh, and (real-smelling) cedarwood that smells like an expensive wooden box full of antique amber resin. It's not rich, but light, expansive, and nicely salty. It reminds me of the black licorice-inflected almond play-dough feel (tonka bean and myrrh) of Alien Absolue, minus the overt jasmine notes. I warm up to Ambre Royal at precisely this point where I stop smelling aftershave and start smelling the anisic custard accord I love so much in the Mugler, though the Ormonde Jayne take on the theme has been lighted and aerated so much that it bears only a distant relationship to Alien Absolue's thick, gouty bullishness. I don't know what kind of black magic has been employed to massage something so brutal into the shape of luxuriousness, but that's Ormonde Jayne for you. I just wish we'd been treated to the smooth stuff from the get-go rather than having to sweat through the unpleasantly metallic ambery goop at the start. But that's ok. This clearly isn't my thing.

Before I posted this review, I checked the fragrance again, this time spraying on paper – and what a revelation! Ambre Royal behaves very differently on paper than on my skin. Paper slows its roll. I'm treated to a drawn-out procession of some pretty wonderful notes that had whizzed right by me the last few times. I smell anise, red and purple berries, licorice vines, velvety musks, gin and tonic, gripe water, and a sort of creamy, candied white musk-custard accord that reminded me immediately of the amazing Musc Nomade (Annick Goutal), all shot through with the piney, cedary aftershave notes of Ambrox and Iso E Super, which are now subdued under the indolent weight of silky amber notes. Quite a different experience. If it weren't socially unacceptable to wear perfume via paper strips taped to one's pulse points, that's totally how I'd handle Ambre Royal.

A sharp regal amber...a suit and tie amber...has a mix of spicy/citrusy flavoring...To my nose , i get these occasional whiffs of pine and licorice...very nice...