Kedu Memo Paris 2014

This one really reminded me of L'Eau Papier Eau de Toilette for its gentleness and the savory, grain-like aspect of the scent. Both have sesame in their notes and both make it the star of the fragrance.

The top notes are very subtle and gone in a few minutes. There is some citrusy, bright fruitiness at the top which is accompanied by a short-lived tea note. Sesame doesn't take long before coming up to the front. It's earthy and starchy, while also being slightly spicy and green due to the aromatic notes in the heart. It isn't loud nor heavy, but rather soft and fresh. White musk and moss further enhance the skin-scent / clean aspect of this fragrance. I barely get any cedarwood, but as it dries down, it starts peaking through a little bit.

Gentle and sophisticated, for those who prefer skin scents and warm, comforting, easygoing fragrances. It's lovely, but a little bit forgettable compared to other heavier fragrances from the Memo Paris line. It still has an air of sophistication about it and I do enjoy it a lot. I'm not sure I'll be going for a full bottle since I'm less of a savory gal than I thought I'd be. Don't get me wrong, the scent is lovely, but it's maybe just not my style.

Wearing Kedu is akin to feeling the sun rise over the green hills of Java's landscape. It dawns on bright, hopeful energy of the first part of the day and eases into a more thoughtful and contemplative moment. The tension between the sharp juicy grapefruit and the toasted sesame is the main and most exciting accord in the fragrance.
Kedu is a relatively versatile unisex fragrance suitable for daytime use in either spring and summer.

Memo Parfums is one of those brands that never quite clicked for me until now. Time and again, I was drawn to the beautiful bottles, and the fragrance notes sounded so enticing. However, testing the perfumes usually brought me back down to earth quickly. They are certainly well-crafted scents, but I could never fully understand the huge hype surrounding fragrances like Winter Palace or Sintra.

Now I have Kedu here for testing, which has once again landed on my wishlist, just like so many Memo fragrances before it. Interestingly, with Kedu, we have for the first time a scent from this French house that I won't just dismiss after a single short test. I really like this one and want to take a closer look at it.

Like almost all fragrances from this brand, Kedu does not skimp on neroli, but fortunately, the 4711 association is completely absent for me here. Overall, I perceive the citrus notes only subtly. My nose immediately transitions to the heart and base notes. The tea note, as well as iris and sesame, reveal themselves. Yes, I would classify Kedu as a gourmand, even though it doesn't smell directly edible. The sesame note and the mate tea actually remind me a bit of the scent of a bakery or a café.

The floral tones are kept very delicate here. All in all, the fragrance never really strikes me as floral. I don't know if it's the moss component that gives me this impression, but Kedu has something masculine about it. A scent I would love to smell on a man, even if the notes suggest something different.

The underlying citrus also creates the impression of a cologne here and there, mixed with sweet elements. In my mind's eye, we are in France, perhaps on the Côte d‘Azur, and a fine gentleman is just coming out of a bakery with a bag full of freshly baked baguettes and croissants.

After a few hours, a fine green sweetness develops that reminds me a bit of Saint Julep by Imaginary Authors but with slightly more bitter tones.

Yes, there’s something about it for me. It probably won’t make it to my list of candidates for purchase, but with Kedu, this brand has actually enchanted me a little for the first time. I’m now mentally taking another bite of my croissant after dipping it in tea and hoping that the weekend doesn’t take too long to arrive.

Many thanks to Medianus76 for the testing opportunity.

Our first joint…uh…our first joint absence at the end of 1995 became one of those stories that can be teased about for eternity. Here: the woman. After all, she (who else?) chose the place because she had spent many happy holidays there in her childhood. So far, so good. Unfortunately, it was not, for example, Tenerife, as one might have expected given the weather, but a holiday home on the Danish Baltic coast.

As luck would have it, the winter of 1995/96 was exceptionally cold and set in as early as December. During its course, even the Kiel Fjord was supposed to freeze over, and in Hamburg, one of the rare winter pleasures on the frozen Außenalster was to take place.

Shortly after Christmas, we set off in my old Opel Kadett D in snow and freezing cold, minus fifteen degrees perhaps, without winter tires and with a defective blower early in the morning (very early in the morning!) from Kiel heading north. The weak stream of warm air that flowed from the slits due to the driving wind struggled to keep the windows free of ice. Funen and Zealand were not yet connected by a motorway bridge at that time, and the ferry ride took additional time - we were definitely on the road for eight or nine hours. Finally, we arrived in the early afternoon via a slow drive over icy paths in one of the farthest corners of Zealand.

The holiday home was frozen from top to bottom, the toilet a solid block of ice. The painstakingly lit fireplace was not even close to being able to heat the drafty wooden cabin. Even two young lovers would then realize that no romantic togetherness was ahead, but rather a real danger to life. So, after one or two hours of brave attempts at sweet talk: back.

I drove again because the lady only formally had a driver’s license. At the height of Kolding, I had to start chatting about something to keep myself from falling asleep at the wheel. One anecdote from my youth after another. She endured it just as I endured the excursion itself. After all, we still got married.

How did I come to this? Oh yes, sesame. Long story short: The sesame reminds me of our second, the first real joint vacation: 1998 in Turkey. In between, exams and the start of our professional lives had kept us from such things.

The limited means prevented us from going out for lunch, and consequently, there was usually just a Simit, a pastry with plenty of sesame on it. This reference to the pastry is important, indeed crucial, because the scent not only features sesame, but also offers a hint of the delicious smell of the crust of freshly baked, light bread. A woody-nutty bakery, yes: bread note - that is really something special.

As the morning progresses, the softest floral notes join in and accompany the scent into the afternoon. Gently creamed by musk and touched by citrus or better yet lemon verbena. It has nothing to do with bread anymore. Throughout the day, Kedu gradually replaces the sesame with musk. The two impressions, however, transition wonderfully into each other in striking similarity until, unexpectedly, after eight hours, only mild musk remains.

Aside from the fact that I personally prefer other things: With Kedu, Memo has achieved a great success. A subtle scent, universally wearable, completely un-spectacular, yet with a quiet, knowledgeable extravagance. A top test tip, for example, for our musk ladies.

I thank Ergoproxy for the sample.

Kedu is perhaps the most unusual fragrance that has come under my nose. Sesame as a scent? I love sesame, hulled and unhulled or even black. Roasted and processed with sea salt into gomasio and sprinkled over Asian leaf spinach. Ground into tahini, the creamy, nutty-bitter sesame paste commonly used in the Middle East.

And now as a fragrance? I was so curious, and when it was finally sprayed on, I didn't even need to say 'Open Sesame,' nor wait for the base notes, because it quickly revealed itself after a fruity grapefruit-mandarin opening. Finely roasted, by no means browned sesame. The light, hulled sesame. Soft, creamy, and nutty, yet without the strict bitterness that one tastes in tahini. Sesame cream scent, wafted by grapefruit and mandarin. And I smell something green behind it. Like unripe grain kernels.

I would love to run to the kitchen, fillet grapefruits, mix them with a mandarin-tahini dressing, and sprinkle with freshly roasted sesame... Great recipe idea, I need to remember that. But wait! Don't act too hastily, because the citrus notes are now softening and, at least partially, making way for a floral accord that, presumably due to mate, hardly stands out sweetly and never overpowers the sesame. Even towards the base, I hardly feel a decisive change, as the individual notes transition so seamlessly into one another, like a very gentle fade in a film. It becomes softer, and the musk behaves quite tame. It cannot compete with the sesame.

I am a bit perplexed. Is this now a gourmand fragrance? At least a very atypical gourmand. Not the usual ingredients of almond, caramel, and chocolate. Kedu puzzles me. I don't even know how to classify it. It is not a clear fragrance, one that immediately excites and overwhelms me. But I have a feeling that it will conquer me more with each wear. I'll start with 70%.

On the Memo website, you can learn about the idea behind Kedu. Kedu is a landscape on Java, with fertile soil, thanks to an active volcano. I was fortunate to travel to this island, to see the fertile rice terraces, the villages where coffee beans dry by the roadside. And as an absolute highlight, the Buddhist temple Borobudur. A breathtaking and unforgettable impression. Here, sesame is burned together with flowers and incense, for every passion of the people a sesame seed, to free them from these passions, to cleanse their soul...

I missed that back then. Simply out of ignorance. Foolish. I won't be going there anytime soon. And now? I still live with my passions... - Oh, actually, I enjoy living with them. Especially with my passion for fragrances. And for sesame.

Addendum, 4 months later:
Kedu is a fragrance that is increasingly sneaking into my heart and nose. I raise it to 80%.