Coty L’Ambre Antique, and With Love… Hilary Duff

Ambre Antique is one of the earliest fragrances sold by Francois Coty. Ambre Antique was first introduced in 1905, and sadly, production of the fragrance dried up long before many of us were even born.

A brief glimmer of hope for resurgence appeared during the 90s when Bergdorf Goodman sold limited edition versions of classic Coty fragrances, including Ambre Antique. But they came and went within the blink of an eye. One could guess that much of this is due to two things:

First, Coty was a little ahead of its time. If they’d only known how big the perfume addict culture was about to explode in just a scant few years, they might have held on and persisted; One could argue that the market for such a project finally exists now. I honestly believe that market was not available in 1995, at least not to the extent that would result in acceptable, albeit niche-level, sales.

Second, it’s reasonable to surmise that much of any diminished sales figures are due to a general consumer reluctance to pay more than low double digits for anything labeled Coty anymore. For better or worse, Coty is nowadays synonymous with inexpensive ingredients and drugstore budgets, and our culture’s capitalist short-term memory disallows any particular remembrance of a time when Coty was considered edgy, prestigious, or adjective-of-your-choice implying “chic.” Public perception of the house of Coty acting as a ground breaker has long ceased to exist, primarily because the brand Coty has ceased to innovate in any meaningful fashion. While I would love to see Coty try once again to relaunch versions of their historical masterpieces, I fear they face an uphill battle. I think much of the sentiment towards their perfumery can currently be summed up as, “when I can’t/couldn’t afford anything better.”

The vague consumer disdain for the house and brand of Coty was not always so.

Coty’s Ambre Antique has a much broader appeal to modern noses than the infamously challenging Chypre, but it’s nevertheless a classic. Perhaps it’s like picking one Vermeer over another. One may personally speak to you more perhaps, but c’mon… they’re all Vermeers: The light of brilliance shines in them all.

The name itself is a bit misleading. Vanilla dominates the composition of Ambre Antique: rich, creamy vanilla, almost like an ice cream scooped onto the skin. It’s an amber float!

The top notes have faded from this bottle for the most part, but I’m guessing that bergamot, and orange blossom are hiding in there. (I stress the word “guessing” because I want to say “orange-y,” and I am an olfactory idiot and always say orange-y when in fact it usually turns out to be orange blossom/neroli.)

Insofar as I understand it, Amber Antique was originally made with actual ambergris. However, sniffing from my own latterly made bottle (mid-century?) indicates that at some point substitutions were made in favor of synthetics. The amber notations take the form of ambery-woody and ambery-incensey aromas. A dose of incense (likely the ‘num duo of labdanum and olibanum?) additionally breathes a darker aromatic feel into the fragrance. Civet in particular plays a huge role in shaping Ambre Antique’s dry down. Whatever one’s personal ambivalence towards sticking something that came out of animal’s hindquarters onto the skin might be, there is no denying the resounding thump it can give a fragrance upon landing at the bottom. Civet provides the skank here, but it’s the skank of fresh hay on a barn floor. Repellant? Maybe. But it’s still oddly clean and enjoyable.

And those dollops of vanilla never do stop melting, dripping right through the amber and the animal urgency of civet. It’s the sort of fragrance that asks of the wearer and passers-by, “Am I hungry or horny?” It’s the TV character Joey from Friends, in that, the response could happily go either way.

Writing about Ambre Antique brings me to a recent release, Hilary Duff’s With Love… Hilary Duff. It does distinguish itself from many of the celebrity fragrances, for its oriental character contrasts wildly against a dull field of fruity-florals and/or musky-clean efforts. But all the appreciation for it mystifies me. I have tried, and retried it since it came out, never finding much in it besides generalities. It’s pleasant but harmless, much like Ms. Duff herself. There’s little to it that marks it as idiosyncratically interesting in the big picture of perfumery. It’s the difference between Dane Cook’s style of bland humor that cause him call to chicken sandwiches “sangwiches” as any toddler might, and Patton Oswalt’s bit on how KFC’s “Famous Bowls” are patronizing us into eating like toddlers. The latter tells a story, the former simply seeks approval for that (a cheap catch phrase) which has already been approved. The difference comes down to risk. There’s a subtle danger when crediting an audience with the intelligence to discern and appreciate a specific voice: Being singular risks losing some folks. Hilary Duff… With Love doesn’t really risk much. It’s a “sangwich.” It’s only made out to look like a risk, and the result smells like a blithe catch phrase.

With Love roughly smells like orange-banana-pineapple flavored rock candy (the fruity note is officially listed as “mangosteen,” so okey-dokey) with a helping of vanilla over amber and a woody, musky base. It’s a warm and easily wearable fragrance; however, it doesn’t significantly come across as distinct. I feel like I’ve smelled it before, but can’t place where exactly. Maybe I’m getting old, forgetful. Maybe I’ve just become too jaded. Or maybe I’m under whelmed by too many of the eleventy billion new releases that keep coming out. Eh, let’s say it’s all of that. And I’m being far too harsh here. Hilary Duff seems like a nice person; Hilary Duff’s With Love is a nice fragrance. I guess maybe that’s my beef. I hate nice. There’s the stink of adequacy on nice.

If you like With Love… you will likely enjoy Calvin Klein Euphoria. They share a note and/or combination of notes that weirdly smell like vanilla and dusty “silk” flowers to me.

Yet, I’d like to recommend some other selections you might wish to also try if With Love has caught your fancy:

• Viktor & Rolf Antidote

• Fendi Theorema

• Jeanne Arthes Cassandra Blanc

• Givenchy Organza Indecence

And of course, if you want a piece of historical perspective,

• Coty Ambre Antique.