I wanted to dismiss Amber Oud outright, and I’m laughing at myself for my snobbish reasoning: it’s just so damned easy to like!
It’s one of those scents that when people smell it on you, they immediately exclaim, “Wow! You smell great! What are you wearing!” It’s also a scent that, when I spritz it on, makes all my cares go away, like hot apple-pie and vanilla ice-cream.
There were some complaints from perfume-enthusiastes that Amber Oud wasn’t really an oud fragrance, and I agree. An expectation is set, and concurrently knocked down. Of By Kilian’s two distinct fragrance lines, L’Oeurve Noire and Arabian Nights, the Arabian Nights collection (each bearing the “Oud” moniker in their title) is a little bit more sophisticated, a little bit more challenging, and quite a lot more money. So I get it that some people felt annoyed when the latest addition to the Nights family came out happily smelling like a jumped-up Prada Candy (which, incidentally, is great).
Amber Oud smells fantastic from the first opening blush, all the way through the deep dry-down hours later. It’s a crowd pleaser, and there isn’t the break-in period many of us have come to expect when we see oud listed as a fragrance note. It’s a sweet, warm, gourmand oriental that even steadfast devotee’s to Clinique Happy or Light Blue won’t complain about Amber Oud.
It smells like a commercial hit.
This fragrance reminds me of the Beatles: those guys made songs that pretty much everyone universally agrees are fantastic, but that doesn’t mean that the songs are focused-grouped to death to appeal to everyone and anyone, nope. Those songs are really that good. And so is Amber Oud.