Ubar Woman fragrance notes
Head
- tangerine, orange, litsea cubeba, violet leaf
Heart
- jasmine, orange blossom, ylang ylang, tuberose, freesia, lily of the valley, rose wood
Base
- sandalwood, patchouli, vetiver, copahu balm, vanilla, animal amber
Latest Reviews of Ubar Woman
Soapy florals from 1995. Not too bad but I prefer others from the women's line.
Review of the original release, wedge shape bottle c. 1995, and the rerelease c. 2009 made in the UK with the magnetic cap
It’s my birthday. Tradition holds that I allow myself to rummage deep into my collection and wear something very special, something celebratory, something life-affirming in reward for not dying yet again, precious in itself and precious to me. Ubar has done those honors on a handful of occasions. And as it’s my birthday, I’ll play my favorite game: an arm-by-arm comparison. On my left is the original release from 1995, and on my right is the rerelease/reformulation from 2009. Dangerous game this; two arm lengths is but a pin-tip’s distance for Ubar.
First, a generalization of the two. A perfume critic we all know reviewed Ubar in a guide published in 2008, a year before the rerelease of Ubar. I scratched my head at the description “Godzilla floral”. We all know that Luca Turin doesn’t smell things the same way as most of us, but I still could not make sense of it. I found there to be nothing reptilian or crude about Ubar; Godzilla’s indifference towards monstrous aggression and destruction wasn’t in Ubar either. Larger than life? Fantastical? Mythical? Otherworldly? Yes, those work. Ubar in both forms has an uncontained and unrestrained euphoric vitality and joie de vivre that is the opposite of Godzilla. That explosive joie de vivre makes it a wonderful companion for my day of days.
Now, on to the technical stuff, first noting that my vintage 1995 bottle is 30 years old: it’s not going to be the same now as when it was bottled. But as time travel hasn’t been invented yet, that’s mostly irrelevant; it is what it is. The orange notes at the top are definitely a lot quieter in the vintage, which is not much of a surprise since citruses are usually the first to age out, but the fuel and floral violet leaf note is quite intact in both. After this, some notable differences.
The vintage is darker and deeper, with the florals far more indolic and heady, the tuberose seeming to do a lot of heavy lifting, and there’s a big slug of oakmoss in it as well. The florals are a true amalgam, with the indolic jasmine, banana fruity ylang ylang, heady and creamy tuberose, and sweet and unctuous muguet all existing in a seamless and spaceless bouquet. Fans of vintage Lanvin Arpege will find themselves in very familiar territory. The rerelease finds this same amalgam but with clearer resolution to the materials. The jasmine is brighter and more citrusy certainly being helped along by a clearer orange blossom, which is either very quiet, absent, or more indolic so as to be hidden behind the other indole-presenting florals in the vintage. The oakmoss in the rerelease is noticeably quieter, with the perfume opting for more rosewood and balsams instead (no surprise). As they both dry down, the vintage rides a very tight line between chypre and amber, while the rerelease more noticeably leans over the line to the amber territory. This is thanks obviously to the difference in oakmoss, but also to the musks where in the vintage there is more of sweet civet/animal musk of the good ol’ stuff where the rerelease opts for the newer synthetic musks that are convincingly less fecal. The chypre-amber dry down is otherwise virtually the same, save for the real sandalwood in the vintage but the material in the rerelease is exceptional. Labdanum, woody and sticky and slightly vanillic, patchouli, loamy and sweetly earthy, and vetiver, smoothly green and woody, are basically identical.
So, yes, there are differences, but both are unequivocally Ubar. Do not ask me if I have a preference because I don’t. Nor does it seem does anyone else who happens to be in my presence when I wear it. Whether vintage or new, I get asked without fail what is that amazing perfume I’m wearing. One of the last times I wore this on a birthday, I was at a restaurant with my partner and no fewer than three people at the nearest tables asked “very sorry to interrupt, but which of you is wearing that gorgeous perfume and what is it?” That’s the other thing about Ubar. I said at the beginning that its vitality and joy is unrestrained, and it is; a perfume like this is meant to fill a space like the life-giving golden hues of the sun, and so it does. You will get noticed. Don’t wear it casually. Don’t be aloof. Be confident, be joyous, project an energy that says you are overjoyed to be alive and that life is a beautiful thing - an otherworldly and mythical experience, just like Ubar.
It’s my birthday. Tradition holds that I allow myself to rummage deep into my collection and wear something very special, something celebratory, something life-affirming in reward for not dying yet again, precious in itself and precious to me. Ubar has done those honors on a handful of occasions. And as it’s my birthday, I’ll play my favorite game: an arm-by-arm comparison. On my left is the original release from 1995, and on my right is the rerelease/reformulation from 2009. Dangerous game this; two arm lengths is but a pin-tip’s distance for Ubar.
First, a generalization of the two. A perfume critic we all know reviewed Ubar in a guide published in 2008, a year before the rerelease of Ubar. I scratched my head at the description “Godzilla floral”. We all know that Luca Turin doesn’t smell things the same way as most of us, but I still could not make sense of it. I found there to be nothing reptilian or crude about Ubar; Godzilla’s indifference towards monstrous aggression and destruction wasn’t in Ubar either. Larger than life? Fantastical? Mythical? Otherworldly? Yes, those work. Ubar in both forms has an uncontained and unrestrained euphoric vitality and joie de vivre that is the opposite of Godzilla. That explosive joie de vivre makes it a wonderful companion for my day of days.
Now, on to the technical stuff, first noting that my vintage 1995 bottle is 30 years old: it’s not going to be the same now as when it was bottled. But as time travel hasn’t been invented yet, that’s mostly irrelevant; it is what it is. The orange notes at the top are definitely a lot quieter in the vintage, which is not much of a surprise since citruses are usually the first to age out, but the fuel and floral violet leaf note is quite intact in both. After this, some notable differences.
The vintage is darker and deeper, with the florals far more indolic and heady, the tuberose seeming to do a lot of heavy lifting, and there’s a big slug of oakmoss in it as well. The florals are a true amalgam, with the indolic jasmine, banana fruity ylang ylang, heady and creamy tuberose, and sweet and unctuous muguet all existing in a seamless and spaceless bouquet. Fans of vintage Lanvin Arpege will find themselves in very familiar territory. The rerelease finds this same amalgam but with clearer resolution to the materials. The jasmine is brighter and more citrusy certainly being helped along by a clearer orange blossom, which is either very quiet, absent, or more indolic so as to be hidden behind the other indole-presenting florals in the vintage. The oakmoss in the rerelease is noticeably quieter, with the perfume opting for more rosewood and balsams instead (no surprise). As they both dry down, the vintage rides a very tight line between chypre and amber, while the rerelease more noticeably leans over the line to the amber territory. This is thanks obviously to the difference in oakmoss, but also to the musks where in the vintage there is more of sweet civet/animal musk of the good ol’ stuff where the rerelease opts for the newer synthetic musks that are convincingly less fecal. The chypre-amber dry down is otherwise virtually the same, save for the real sandalwood in the vintage but the material in the rerelease is exceptional. Labdanum, woody and sticky and slightly vanillic, patchouli, loamy and sweetly earthy, and vetiver, smoothly green and woody, are basically identical.
So, yes, there are differences, but both are unequivocally Ubar. Do not ask me if I have a preference because I don’t. Nor does it seem does anyone else who happens to be in my presence when I wear it. Whether vintage or new, I get asked without fail what is that amazing perfume I’m wearing. One of the last times I wore this on a birthday, I was at a restaurant with my partner and no fewer than three people at the nearest tables asked “very sorry to interrupt, but which of you is wearing that gorgeous perfume and what is it?” That’s the other thing about Ubar. I said at the beginning that its vitality and joy is unrestrained, and it is; a perfume like this is meant to fill a space like the life-giving golden hues of the sun, and so it does. You will get noticed. Don’t wear it casually. Don’t be aloof. Be confident, be joyous, project an energy that says you are overjoyed to be alive and that life is a beautiful thing - an otherworldly and mythical experience, just like Ubar.
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Ubar
Ubar always struck me as a well-set Jasmine. But today I'm smelling the rose and it's striking me more as Joy by Patou's more opulent sister. Gorgeous. I do wonder if it was tweaked between the old sample I had, and this new one. I think I remember that this one had been reformulated at some point. On to how it smells: it's a nearly piercing soprano of a rose/jasmine combination, with the rose both providing some alto harmony and creating a tart balance for the sweet jasmine. As I look at the note list, I realize I've been fooled; there isn't any rose! Something like Rose had been suggested by the combination of Rose wood, violet leaf, and citrus. There is only the smallest hint of powder, which I think is actually ylang ylang, and it retains a mildly piercing quality with its opacity. The patchouli here is so restrained as to provide only a slight shadow. The sandalwood so minimal that it only provides creaminess in the texture. There is nothing sheer about it. It is not spicy, it it is nevertheless an evening gown sort of fragrance. I imagine I could happily wear it to the opera. In many ways it reminds me of Tiffany for Women, which I haven't smelled in nearly 30 years. As I check the notes for Tiffany, I see that they do indeed have much in common- a bright citric tuberose/ylang/jasmine/orange blossom with violet leaf and sandalwood. I suppose they are both from a similar time.
Ubar always struck me as a well-set Jasmine. But today I'm smelling the rose and it's striking me more as Joy by Patou's more opulent sister. Gorgeous. I do wonder if it was tweaked between the old sample I had, and this new one. I think I remember that this one had been reformulated at some point. On to how it smells: it's a nearly piercing soprano of a rose/jasmine combination, with the rose both providing some alto harmony and creating a tart balance for the sweet jasmine. As I look at the note list, I realize I've been fooled; there isn't any rose! Something like Rose had been suggested by the combination of Rose wood, violet leaf, and citrus. There is only the smallest hint of powder, which I think is actually ylang ylang, and it retains a mildly piercing quality with its opacity. The patchouli here is so restrained as to provide only a slight shadow. The sandalwood so minimal that it only provides creaminess in the texture. There is nothing sheer about it. It is not spicy, it it is nevertheless an evening gown sort of fragrance. I imagine I could happily wear it to the opera. In many ways it reminds me of Tiffany for Women, which I haven't smelled in nearly 30 years. As I check the notes for Tiffany, I see that they do indeed have much in common- a bright citric tuberose/ylang/jasmine/orange blossom with violet leaf and sandalwood. I suppose they are both from a similar time.
This is a review about Ubar Woman as a potential male fragrance.
I have no idea why this is so popular as a cross over to men.
It is very feminine, stongly so, pleasant verging on cloying. I get a lot of Violet and lilly which just keeps on giving.
As a female fragrance its ok and of course body chemistry will affect it. Any age group but more suited to the 'well bred'.
What happened to Amouage Arcus as a freshy for men?
Fragrance: 6.75/10
Projection: 7.5/10
Longevity: 7.5/10
I have no idea why this is so popular as a cross over to men.
It is very feminine, stongly so, pleasant verging on cloying. I get a lot of Violet and lilly which just keeps on giving.
As a female fragrance its ok and of course body chemistry will affect it. Any age group but more suited to the 'well bred'.
What happened to Amouage Arcus as a freshy for men?
Fragrance: 6.75/10
Projection: 7.5/10
Longevity: 7.5/10
It has a sparkling citrus opening. The flowers are well-mixed. I can pick out individual floral notes here and there, until this settles down. It gets a little boozy for a moment or two. Then, the base appears woody, with warm sandalwood, vanilla, and a muted resinous smell.
Alas, it ends up resembling a few Rasasi or Haramain scents I've owned. It's pretty but, not exceptional.
Alas, it ends up resembling a few Rasasi or Haramain scents I've owned. It's pretty but, not exceptional.
If I were an entirely different female, I might love this, but Ubar is simply too heavily and abstractly floral for me to appreciate. And the lily of the valley and civet make for a combination I cannot abide. The whole thing is simply too rich and high-pitched and pee-like (in equal measure). If I wore only Chanel and lived in Palm Beach, maybe, but since I wear old Levis and Vans and live in S.F., this one is not for me.
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