7
Beautifully Dusty
I had already tested Ambre Khandjar from this line and was initially skeptical. The brand is known for not skimping on intensity - if a note is listed, you can smell it. And I'm not necessarily a fan of leather. When I looked at Memory Motel, I could hardly imagine that it was, as some claimed, a gentle musk fragrance. And what can I say? It is definitely not delicate but also not overwhelming.
The opening is surprisingly light - yes, the bergamot is there, but from the very beginning, there’s a hint of where the journey is headed. Then, between the top note and the heart, the fragrance takes an unexpected turn: a hint of musk, sunscreen, and sandalwood. Here I was honestly disappointed - beautiful, sunny, almost like a warm hug, but also generic. Too agreeable. But fortunately, it doesn’t stop with the first rays of sunshine.
As soon as the sun sets, a dusty, almost mystical fog rolls in. And here comes the patchouli into play - with its underlying, dark chocolate character that has something dusty about it. Like a late afternoon on grandmother's couch, while somewhere in an antique box, a forgotten piece of chocolate appears.
Tobacco and leather sneak in later, never dominant, but like muted jazz music in a trendy bar with dim lighting. It is the romanticized version of a long-gone moment - but not rough, rather elegantly intertwined. And then the clove: spicy, yes, but with a pleasant, almost playful sweetness.
Memory Motel is not a fragrance for everyday wear. But for nights full of stories, for places with character, for times when past and present blur.
The opening is surprisingly light - yes, the bergamot is there, but from the very beginning, there’s a hint of where the journey is headed. Then, between the top note and the heart, the fragrance takes an unexpected turn: a hint of musk, sunscreen, and sandalwood. Here I was honestly disappointed - beautiful, sunny, almost like a warm hug, but also generic. Too agreeable. But fortunately, it doesn’t stop with the first rays of sunshine.
As soon as the sun sets, a dusty, almost mystical fog rolls in. And here comes the patchouli into play - with its underlying, dark chocolate character that has something dusty about it. Like a late afternoon on grandmother's couch, while somewhere in an antique box, a forgotten piece of chocolate appears.
Tobacco and leather sneak in later, never dominant, but like muted jazz music in a trendy bar with dim lighting. It is the romanticized version of a long-gone moment - but not rough, rather elegantly intertwined. And then the clove: spicy, yes, but with a pleasant, almost playful sweetness.
Memory Motel is not a fragrance for everyday wear. But for nights full of stories, for places with character, for times when past and present blur.
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