When Boyfriend perfume came out, the story behind it as I recall was that Kate Walsh (not sure who she is - Comedian? Actress? Singer? All of the above?) longed for a long gone boyfriend's smell and thus created a perfume that will remind her of the shirt he leaves behind.

It's comforting to know that not only I sniff old boyfriend's sweaters (blush); and also, unlike the endless possibilities of cheesy videos that a perfume with such name could have rendered - I think it has a brilliant marketing campaign: It walks the tightrope of being nostalgic and emotional to a fault yet laughs at oneself while at it. Which is a healthy balance when delving into the dangerous world of romance. Even the packaging is well done - the bottle, engraved with a long list of popular Anglo-Saxone names (if you haven't dated them all, please circle the one that best applies). The only thing they overlooked in that regard is a big red marker to circle around the boyf's name/s that apply to you... I suppose I will have to source mine elsewhere.  But either way - the bottom line is that the whole campaign made me have a good laugh. Which is most welcome when it comes to the most "serious" matters of the heart... 

I guess all in all, I was the perfect target for this product: endlessly single gal in her 30's, career oriented, pretty hopeless when it comes to romance, and pathetically smelling old boyfriend's t-shirt when nobody's watching... Well, mine has gone stale long ago. I was so worried that the perfume will disappoint me that it took me another year to come closer to it (responding with a big smiling recoil at the daring dose of patchouli). And remembering that, I had to come back for a real try this week to complete my patchouli series.

Boyfriend begins with a robust fruity notes of dark plum, underscored with massive amounts of resinous benzoin - a sheer foundation for the most popular amber personality of the decade - "crystalline amber"*, whose sweetness can only be forgiven as it's anchored in a woody, dry, musky notes: bitter myrrh, reminiscent of the tears of sacrificial love that every woman worth her salt has put into a relationship only to find out that yet again, it isn't working; patchouli, to reminisce after his patchouli-lade Eau Sauvage aftershave (I'm just making things up... If I met a man who uses Eau Sauvage aftershave I would be single no more!). Vanilla kicks in shortly after the myrrh, but it's rather full-bodied and thick, bringing to mind real vanilla extract with a powdery heliotropin finish.

And lastly, Boyfriend dries into a clean patchouli and musk cocktail, that is not too uncommon for present day, but quite nicely done - a clean skin scent that is not unlike Pure Turquoise, though with a much warmer beginnings.

Boyfriend is surprisingly well-done, not just in comparison to other celebrity scents, but even just as it is. It's refreshing to see a celebrity taking her scent so seriously and bringing so much humour to a rather sore subject - kudos to her! Please don't kill it with meaningless flankers! (too late...?).  

*Crystalline amber is the kind that is light on the sweet resinous animalic aspects of labdanum, rendering its amberiness from fraction distillation of labdanum, which are more transparent, woody and clear in colour as well - plus some synthetics that I won't get into right now)

Is it randomness or is it fate, which will forever link a certain fragrance with a certain place? Perhaps even a little of both... But the result is the same, and will forever be engrained in my brain, psyche, heart - call it what you may.

Prada Ambre Intense Pour Homme is not exactly what you'd wear on a hike on a sunny and warm May day, but that's precisely what I will forever associate it with. Sitting on the rocks and trying to figure out what's in it - and whether I like it or not.

I'm re-visiting it again tonight, after stopping at Oakridge Mall on the way to the train station. Historic moment, by the way: in an unprecedented moment, a sales associate at The Bay has voluntarily offered to take $10 off a bottle just to make a sale... Three hours later, I wish I took her up on that.

Prada Ambre Intense Pour Homme begins like a mist of citrus peel with florals thrown in the mix - the familiar crystalline feel of bergamot, and some tangering and orange. Non of which is strong enough, of course, to cover up the brownie, chocolatey, delicious earthiness that's lurking underneath.

First comes amber, with a load of benzoin; then the bergamot makes a second entrance, only to be pushed away by a clean, woody patchouli that almost smells like cedar. The amber and patchouli remain the main components for the next three hours, feeling a little too crystalline and transparent to my taste at first; but becoming more bold and dominant and deep, with only sandalwood occasionally making some white noise, and vanilla that is almost chocolatey and edible. Lastly, a familiar note of vetiver joins in and adds an extra layer of wood that is clean, elegant and delightful.

Prada Ambre Intense Pour Homme has a long and clumsy name, but it's well constructed, with a structure similar to the great Shalimars of the past, and could be easily worn by both men and women, as long as they go hiking with it.

Initially, I picked to review this perfume because it's in my "patchouli file". But after repeated applications, and especially after reviewing the other patchouli fragrances, I'm discovering it's on the very other end of the patchouli spectrum, where light, amber and sheer plastic flowers meet for a little public display of affection.

Prada opens a little more floral than expected. Not any particular floral, but more of the floral top notes that amber accords tends to have: the lilac-and-epoxy-glue symphony from liquidambar (aka styrax) and an overall sheer, crystalline effect. If there is any patchouli in there it's completely secondary. The resins are taking centre stage, and while they are sweet, they also have a certain transparency about them that is more woody than foody. It has a simple, flat personality from an overdoze of benzoin (a caramal-like resin that has an understated, powdery yet lasting effect), and peru balsam (which is a thinner and flatter vanilla, with hints of woods). The patchouli has only a balancing act: contributing dryness counterpoint like a throaty red wine with vanilla poached pear. It whispers, never shouts. It gives the vanilla way too much elbow room and as a result the perfume feels very flat - a flat amber accord with dry nuances from patchouli.

The vanilla intensifies over time and becomes a little syrupy only half an hour in. I really wish there was more dry presence to make it ever so slightly less ambery. Prada's other flankers might be more intriguing in that regard (especially the Ambre Pour Homme Intense), but still - it's very decidedly agreeable, which comes at the expense of intrigue or mischief. It smells extremely similar to Dior Addict's vinyl and pleather vanilla theme; and very much like Notorious, just less aquatic and without that dusting of cocoa.

There is no shortage of amber scents in the world in 2004, when Prada debuted, and although I can't pretend it's groundbreaking and I've never even managed to get through half of my 2ml sample - there was certainly refreshing to observe its commercial success despite the fact that it was neither a nondescript floral nor a foody fruity floral. And a lot of others followed with patchouli-centered fragrances, which quickly turned into the much dreaded (though still better than the previous) "fruitchoulis" - those faux "chypre" compositions that juxtapose the mass appeal of candy and fruit notes with an ever so slightly sophisticated scent of natural patchouli and perhaps a few other surprises that none of us would ever sign up for (watery notes, anyone?), such as Black Orchid (Tom Ford), Notorioius (Ralph Lauren) and more.

I find the abundance of flankers from this label confusing at best, but I shall try the Prada Intense to see if it's more patchouli-centered (and hopefully also more to my liking).