Asphaltblume

I quite like this one. Hardly sweet, somewhat dark, soft and velvety, it reminds me of a toiletry scent - only I can't remember which one. I can't smell any freesia, a little more of the jasmin. The base is more musk and cashmere wood than amber. And more likely cashmeran than cashmere wood, or maybe some other synthetic flavour, I suppose, as I could not find cashmere wood the plant, only cashmere wood the scent.
I don't think this is a specifically floral fragrance as the listed top and heart note suggest. Floral-woody-musky would be more like it. And it is leaning in an unusual direction, a type of fragrance I don't often smell.

Got it via souk (thanks to Mrs6fiend), sprayed on, sniffed: Orange, cinnamon, caramel and, er, wee'd pants?
Of the notes listed I don't believe any would smell urinary. (Not like the derelict corner next to the stations were bums relieve themselves, but freshly wee'd in. Sweetish and bouillon-like meets wet cloth.)
I suspect the sunny notes...

A little later this smell stops and I smell Nag Champa joss sticks. I guess it's mostly the mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. The orange changes, it's not the fruit now dominating but the peel, maybe even candied orange peel.
It's the sweet, spicy and relaxing scent of joss sticks that I find so fascinating in this eau de parfum. That's why I simply had to have it.

I read a lot of reviews speaking of impressions of salt and sea and beach, so I tried to find those pictures in the scent of my sweetly incence-smoked wrists as well, but in vain. On me the fragrance does not anything marine and therefore I think the pretty but unequivocally maritime bottle a pretty strange choice for this fragrance.

It stands to reason that the blue liquid turns brown so quickly as that matches joss sticks so much better than blue!
After the Nag Champa note has come out it is a rather linear smell on my skin. It fades but doesn't turn any new leaves. Longevity is not recordbreaking but decent. It lasts a full day at work easily.

I sniffed Voile d'Ambre distrustfully at first: My much older half-sister moved from home in the middle of the 1970s and bequeathed on me a heap of bits and bobs and hippiesk junk she didn't want to take with her. Amongst it a tiny flacon labeled "Ambra". The contents smelled of - well, you might call it animalic, I guess, but my association was caries. This Amba perfume (probably bought from one of those small and fascinatingly crammed oriental shops) smelled of decaying teeth. I don't fancy that. My sister became a dentist, by the way.

On to Voile d'Ambre, the veil of amber. I sprayed a wet patch onto the back of my hand and warily lowered my nose to it. Nothing of decaying teeth here fortunately! Instead I encounter a rich, orientally sweet and somehow balsamicwoodysmoky stunner that even goes to my head a bit. This stunner is little fruity, a little flowery to boot. Too much at once, too sweet, too too. Ali Babas den of thieves crammed with all the treasure of Arabia. I need air! I need space!

Yes, and that's what Voile d'Ambre needs, too. After all, veils are at their most beautiful when they are delicately waving in the breeze.
Applied with a light hand and smelled from a distance, just as a breeze wafting to my nose, Voile d'Ambre really is enchanting!
Warm and exotic, sweet, flattering, a little spicy, balsamic and in fact a little incensey this scent flows around the wearer. A whiff of bitter almond, a slight fruitiness (the sweetness is balsamic, not fruity though) add a gourmand dimension to this fragrance without making it seem edible.

With time the stunning power and the sweetness cease to go to my head, the fragrance becomes softer, more tender, hazy (->patchouli?) and very close to the skin in the end.

To me it is a somehow magical fairytale fragrance that is by all means grown-up. Arabian Nights. Odalisque. The tsar's daughter. Silk and velvet in glowing colours, jewels and gold, furs and morocco leather. Majestic in some way, but not distinctly elegant as it is too luxuriant and too voluptuous for that.

I think that Voile d'Ambre is especially good in the cooler season, great for autumn and winter.
But I will try it in summer as well, as Arabia is not exactly known for a wet and cold climate...

It is strange: Chanel's No. 19 is one of my favourite fragrances and one of the few chypres I get along with.

To my nose, Cabochard has a huge resemblance to No. 19. It is only a bit less polished, less flowery and less rounded. It - or rather she - is the rock chick sister, the rebel in (really smellable!) leather clothing.
The "family likeness" is enormous.

But Cabochard rejects me, shows me the finger and ashes into my flowerpot. She obviously prefers to spend her time with people like herself, not with nice, adjusted squares like me.
Never stop a rolling stone.

I saw this fragrance at a drugstore discounter's and the shop assistant offered to spray it on me for closing-time and going home (she liberally dosed herself, too).
The package is a little deceiving with the 'delight' being written huge but pale under the 'inside', so I thought I'd get 'Inside Woman' by Trussardi which I was curious about. 'Inside Delight' was a disappointment. I could not smell any coffee or cookies (as the reviews suggested - I was on the wrong scent, remember).

What rose from my wrist was just another clean, synthetical fruity-floral scent with a musk-vanilla drydown and without character that could have been any of Mexx, Bruno Banani, S. Oliver as well. Perfume pabulum.

Edit: Tried it again, and this time I quite liked the freshness and lightness of the flowers in it. Not enough so I would buy it, but I see why people are fond of it. I could not smell the interesting notes (quince, coffeeblossom, teakwood), but freesia stuck out quite strongly.