Festivus Fumes: Amber, grievances, and a little jazz

I started the morning with Upton Christmas Tea, the kind that smells like orange peel forgot its manners and wandered into a cinnamon tin. Then I reached for Hermès L'Ambre des Merveilles, my favorite way to turn down December’s volume without going full gourmand. If you like your amber to smolder rather than shout, this one is a quiet rebellion.

Hermès L'Ambre des Merveilles is that soft-focus amber that seems to light from within. The sparkle of the original Merveilles DNA is still there, a salty shimmer that keeps the resin from collapsing into syrup. What I get on skin is a glow of benzoin and vanilla hush, labdanum in a knit scarf, a trace of woods that behaves itself. No frosting, no sticky spun sugar, just skin warmed by candlelight. I wore it on a brisk walk, and my coat still whispers of it every time I move.

Festivus is for grievances, so here is mine. Amber has become the lazy luxury note, too often thickened with pastry cream and sprayed to the stratosphere. If your “comfort” smells like a bakery fire, we need to talk. Hermès remembers restraint, and L’Ambre feels composed, like a well cut jacket. It draws you in, it does not tackle you.

Today is also a birthday nod to Madam C. J. Walker, a reminder that beauty has always been identity, economy, and invention. I think of the scent of hair oils in a warm kitchen, the intimate chemistry between grooming and memory. And for my soundtrack, Chet Baker. That brushed-brass trumpet tone pairs uncannily well with L’Ambre’s ambered hush, both tender, both slightly blue around the edges.

Little seasonal housekeeping. On 12/26 I am doing my Best of 2025 early shortlist, a pocket guide to what actually earned its shelf space. Spoiler, if a launch survived my amber fatigue, it did so with texture and restraint.

This is not a fragrance to chase compliments, it is one you wear for the quiet between snowplows. If you need a holiday truce with your nose, Hermès L'Ambre des Merveilles is the peace treaty. I am keeping it close, and keeping the tea hot.