Amouage
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
Chamomile dominates immediately—not the gentle tea version, but the concentrated, apple-tinged bitterness of the actual flower head, amplified by clary sage's wine-like, slightly sweaty greenness. Cardamom and lavender create an aromatic fog that reads more apothecary than perfume counter, whilst rose and jasmine whisper somewhere beneath, restrained and earthen rather than exuberant.
The frankincense emerges properly now, its lemon-pine smoke mingling with immortelle's strange curry-maple sweetness and the leathery-green density of cistus absolute. Ylang ylang adds a creamy, slightly banana-esque richness whilst civet begins its slow intrusion—not screaming filth, but a warm, intimate muskiness that clings to the violet's metallic powder and patchouli's dark chocolate-soil depths.
The base settles into a skin-close shroud of sandalwood and cedarwood hazed with amber, where castoreum and musk create an animalic warmth that feels more body than perfume. Benzoin and vanilla offer subtle sweetness—the caramel note manifests as burnt rather than confected—whilst leather lingers as a textural suggestion, the ghost of something once worn close to skin.
Beloved Woman defies its name, emerging as a chamomile-driven meditation with an animalic undertone that speaks to no gender at all. Bernard Ellena has crafted something peculiar here—opening with the bitter-sweet, apple-like warmth of Roman chamomile that immediately collides with the savoury-green thrust of clary sage, creating an aromatic tension that feels both healing and unsettling. The rose and jasmine lurk rather than bloom, their presence muted beneath the weight of cardamom's resinous bite and lavender's camphoraceous haze. This isn't the floral opulence Amouage often traffics in; instead, it reads as a study in restraint corrupted by carnal intrusion.
As it develops, the composition reveals its true character—a skin scent in the most literal sense, where frankincense smoke weaves through the honeyed immortelle whilst civet and castoreum introduce a deeply mammalian quality that borders on confrontational. The amber accord isn't the polished, vanilla-laced confection of modern perfumery but something more mineral, almost dirty, threaded through with patches of dark patchouli and the churchy whisper of cistus labdanum. Violet adds a powdery-metallic facet that shouldn't work but does, creating an effect like expensive leather gloves worn during a lengthy church service in high summer.
Add fragrances to your collection and unlock your personalised scent DNA, note map, and shareable identity card.
4.0/5 (307)