Ambre Canelle (1949)
by Creed

Ambergris with a little bit of civet. Very strange. Very strong. More of an oriental barbershop than true ambergris. "Canelle" in Frehnch means "groove".

A very sweet amber and cinnamon scent. It has powerful sillage so do not over apply, or you might smell like an old lady at first. It isn't very masculine because of its sillage and sweetness but I love wearing this for that very reason - you are constantly reminded of what you are wearing and it is pleasant. However, I still prefer to wear this at home because it's not something I want others to smell on me.

Ambergris and cinnamon together -- yum! This is a rich and old fashioned frag that -- more than any other Creed I can think of -- is definitively a "love it or hate it" number. (And I love it.)

The ambergris is so strong (think Youth Dew) and the whole effect so animalic yet ancient that I really can't effectively describe either in a few words.

The amber, btw, doesn't come in until considerably later in the frag's progression. The cinnamon (canelle) you smell throughout, but more so later on.

Try before you buy. Try before you buy. Try before you buy.

Whoah! Quite the opening here: amber, very smooth, rounded cinnamon, and lots of soap. It's an entry that grabs me right away and then leaves me impatient to see where it will go next.

The soapy sensation might recall Cypres-Musc, but here the soap is balanced by a highly suggestive accord of indolic jasmine, rose, and amber. The whole thing smells like a self-contradiction, but in the most fascinating way. The constant tension between clean and "dirty," civilized and feral, builds tremendous suspense as to just which way the balance will eventually fall.

For a time the rose takes control and molds Ambre Canelle into a very bold, yet slightly austere floral scent. Yet the yeasty, "doughy" quality in some rose essences is brought forward by the amber, eventually erasing the last traces of soap. At this point, three or more hours into its development, Ambre Canelle falls onto a luxurious amber and indole soaked cushion, upon which it stretches languidly for the remainder of its stay.

A Creed that does not smell like any other, and which stands beside Angelique Encens, Royal English Leather, and Orange Spice as an exemplar in this old line. .

Complex. Great evolution here. It starts out pretty heavy with something that smells a bit on the feminine side. The drydown though, as others have said, changes and often. Spice, ambergris, musk, all take turns like children on a sliding board. Decent longevity and projection.

Caltha is right: This pretty much smells like that yellow lye soap that my mother made decades ago. Ambre Canelle doesn’t have the acrid bite of homemade lye soap, but it seems like pretty much the same base…that’s a good thing. The spices — a dose of cinnamon (more cinnamon leaf than cinnamon spice) and bay leaf — fit in perfectly with the ambergris and the musk. But, as IPaid and Robyogi both point out, the true star of this fragrance is jasmine: I’ve encountered only one or two other fragrances that could match this fragrance in indolic power. I guess its the soapy clean and the indolic dirty combination that makes Ambre Canelle so compelling—it’s both clean and animalic; both spicy and musty — and all these characteristics done to excess. The only other fragrance that I know of with such contrasts and excesses is Kouros. As a matter of fact, I view Ambre Canelle the same way I view Kouros: I don’t like it, but I totally love it. I am intrigued — and I never thought a Creed could do this to me.