Julieta

Memoir is currently the highest-rated women's fragrance from Amouage, and I believe that is completely justified. I have tested several, but Memoir is the only one that hit the mark so perfectly that I even splurged on a bottle. And that's not the price range I usually frequent (not that I wouldn't like to...)
Why write yet another review about a fragrance that has already been sufficiently commented on and from which interested parties can probably form a nuanced picture based on the descriptions? Because it truly knocked me off my feet, and that doesn't happen very often.

If I had to explain the concept of perfume to an alien or a Kaspar Hauser, I would choose Memoir as a prime example. It is so complex, so vibrant, so rich that I couldn't say, "it smells like...", but would have to surrender to: The scent smells like PARFUM, in capital letters. I find it difficult to pinpoint individual components aside from jasmine, clove, and incense because everything harmoniously blends into a whole that is greater than the sum of its parts. And that might be one of the greatest compliments you can give a fragrance.

An adjective that comes to mind besides "opulent" is "majestic." When I spray Memoir, I automatically carry my head a little higher and my posture becomes a bit more upright. A prime example of how much a fragrance can influence one's mood and presence. For me, it's my "don't fuck with me" scent, reminding me and olfactorily communicating to everyone else that I deserve respectful treatment and should not have to tolerate any rudeness. Think twice about how you speak to me before you open your mouth! You're not talking to Lieschen Müller, but to a queen.

I find it difficult to describe how Memoir smells due to its opulence. What I can say is: absinthe usually smells like anise, but I don't notice any of that in the top notes. In fact, there is no top note at all. It kicks off with a powerful burst of clove. Anyone who does not appreciate clove as a fragrance component should definitely steer clear of Memoir. For me, scents often land on my wishlist simply because clove is listed as a note. And here, I get exactly what I want. It is accompanied by jasmine and incense. The classification as "spicy-oriental" hits the nail on the head. Rose and woods completely pass me by, while pepper and cardamom might simply blend into the spicy haze, but I can't perceive them in isolation.
What I find incredibly interesting about this fragrance is that it starts in a way that I would describe as rather cool and slightly piercing (the color in my head for that: Chartreuse). After about 2 hours, however, it shifts, and in the base notes, the initial coolness has transformed into a shimmering warmth. Shimmering because the scent almost seems alive, as if the fragrance molecules are swirling around me in a cloud. Does that make it Biebergeil? I don't perceive any animalic notes, but the oakmoss makes the base feel powerful and massive. You have to like that. For my part, I could just lie down and wrap myself in it. Even though Memoir is far from a classic chypre, the base has a distinctly chypre-like quality.

It lasts on the skin for about 8 hours, significantly longer on clothing and hair. The scent remnants in the clothing still smell great, which is not the case with every perfume, especially when only a bit of synthetic musk stubbornly clings to the fabric.

Is it unisex? I actually consider all fragrances to be unisex by default. But I can really imagine this one on a man. Not just for queens, but also for confident kings.

Even though Memoir picks me up and carries me away in every way as it is now, I am burning with curiosity about how it smelled before the reformulation. If anyone has one and would be willing to sell me a small decant for comparison, please feel free to reach out to me, and you will be assured of my eternal gratitude.

Acqua di Parma already has a special place in my heart. I simply enjoy their craftsmanship. Even the scents that don't inspire me to wear them myself, I perceive as pleasant and well-made. Elegant and, in their way, very Italian. Vaniglia is the first one that has actually moved in with me.

The name says it all - what you see is what you get, and it's generous. I couldn't exactly say what kind of vanilla this is. But I can say what kind of vanilla it is not: No baking aroma vanilla, no Barbie vanilla, no plastic vanilla, no oriental vanilla, no gourmand vanilla. Also not a smells-like-a-real-vanilla-pod vanilla. Most closely, it's a powdery vanilla.
There is no smoke, no burnt notes, no wood (at least not to my nose, although some is listed) and no spices, nothing that dims the sweetness. The bergamot in the top note briefly says "Hello" and is then immediately gone. What remains is the heliotrope, to which a beautiful jasmine note joins that is in no way indolic or carrion-like.
These already sweet-smelling flowers combined with vanilla are just shy of being over the top, but still just on this side of sugar shock and nausea. I really like sweet scents, but I can quickly be turned off if they become overwhelming and cloying. That is not the case here. I particularly enjoy this balancing act on the edge. Musk brings the mentioned notes together into a dense, creamy-powdery scent carpet that, once woven, lasts for hours and hours and smells damn sexy.
I am very surprised that the sillage is apparently not particularly good for many commentators here. Vaniglia feels like the strongest and longest-lasting scent in my collection. Absolutely brutal! Going out, sweating, sleeping (or not) - it handles all of that easily and is still remarkably present the next morning, not just for me, but also for those around me.

Conclusion: Not a scent I can wear every day, but when I do, I do so with enthusiasm. Very dense, but not heavy, if that makes sense. It has relatively little to do with the usual Colonia vibe from AdP, and anyone expecting a vanilla interpreted in this way will likely be disappointed.

I would be interested to know how it smells on men's skin. In principle, I see it as quite unisex, but if it develops like it does on me, you have to be a confident man without an affinity for dusty masculinity clichés to wear it. Therefore, perhaps not a candidate for a blind buy. It is not cheap, but lasts (at least for me) forever, as two sprays easily last around 14 hours. I find the price/quality ratio quite reasonable.

One last note: I think it's great that Acqua di Parma regularly offers 20ml bottles. Especially for such scents that you don't wear daily but occasionally, this is a perfect size (especially when the scent is as long-lasting as this one). Why do I need a 50 or 100ml bottle that might go off before I finish it? Plus, it’s easier on the wallet. Even if the smaller size is more expensive than the larger version, I can afford such a scent that otherwise wouldn't easily fit into my budget.

I dare to doubt that Mr. Guichard intended this when creating Bois Noir, yet he has, probably entirely unintentionally, achieved the most authentic representation of a Palo Santo note in a perfume that I have ever encountered. I had been searching for this for quite some time, but I have always been disappointed when I was tempted to test fragrances that mentioned Palo Santo in the scent pyramid or even in the name.

However, I did not expect anything like that from Bois Noir at all. It just sounded nice. I was rather expecting something more like a fir forest, something resinous. And then, with the very first spray, my heart opened up. Suddenly, I found myself on Avenida Corrientes in Buenos Aires, where every fifty meters a street vendor burns Palo Santo next to mate cups, leather belts, sunglasses, and fake Nike socks to convince passersby of the quality of the offered incense.
The scent of gently smoking Palo Santo is inextricably linked to Buenos Aires for me, where I spent three formative and life-changing years, and where a not-so-small piece of my heart has likely stuck forever. Palo Santo is omnipresent there, not just among hippies and New Age freaks, but also among housewives and office workers, hipsters and craftsmen alike, because everyone knows that burning Palo Santo cleanses a home of bad energies. For me, this scent is home, warm afternoon sun on the rooftops of high-rises, beloved apartments of beloved people, and hundreds of beautiful memories that are summoned directly by its resinous sweetness without passing through the intellect.

This rich bouquet of impressions, memories, and emotions unexpectedly wafted towards me from my sample of Bois Noir. Eyes closed, enjoy, smile. For me, there is nothing noir, gloomy, or joyless here. On the contrary, I find the scent warm and comforting, which admittedly could have to do with those beautiful memories.

Now, however, the interested reader is not so much concerned with what emotions it evokes, but how it smells (especially if one has never smelled Palo Santo themselves).
So then: The opening is wood, freshly cut, a bit dusty, a bit resinous, a bit sweet. It’s the kind of scent you can smell in places where a lot of woodwork is done. But not in the way of a concept fragrance like "Memoirs of a Trespasser," which captures a very tangible earthly scent in a fragrance and is perhaps not meant to be worn but rather experienced. Bois Noir, on the other hand, is clearly a perfume intended to smell good. As distinct as the wood note is, it is also well woven with the other notes. From the scent pyramid, I can identify patchouli (not the musty, damp earth type, but a spicy yet tame one), and the somewhat heavy, stuffy sweetness of labdanum. I cannot detect cedar; the scent has absolutely nothing fresh (which is perfectly fine, as that would be completely out of place here). It remains largely linear for me, but after a while, it "settles" on the skin - I don’t know how else to describe it - and feels denser and sweeter than at the beginning. Sandalwood also does not play a prominent role, neither in its soapy nor in its creamy facet.

All in all, Bois Noir feels dense, round, and complete to me. There are no loud notes, no outliers, nothing that feels out of place. It vaguely reminds me of Akkad, but its effect is brighter and more ethereal, not so heavy. It is an undeniably sweet scent, but the kind of sweetness that even men who are concerned about masculinity can wear without hesitation.
The sillage is moderate. You can smell it, but it doesn’t fill the entire room. On me, it lasts just under 8 hours, ending up close to the skin.
For me, it could be just a tiny bit stronger, but given that my search for a perfume with a Palo Santo note has found a happy ending, that is entirely secondary. I’ll just spray a bit more.
I thank Clausd for the sample, will buy a bottle as soon as the budget allows, and recommend anyone with a soft spot for woody scents to definitely test this one.

A fresh oud fragrance. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that's exactly how it is. Some might say this is an oxymoron, since oud by definition does not smell fresh. And yet, for me, it is precisely that: a very clear and distinct oud scent that simultaneously conveys a feeling of cleanliness, freshness, and well-groomedness. This must be due to the lavender; I can't explain the effect any other way.
I am not familiar with the famous brother Oud for Greatness and therefore cannot compare, but others have already done so extensively in their comments.

So here instead is my impression, completely free of comparisons:
The opening is extremely crackly and a bit musty with a lot of saffron. The oud note is present from the very beginning for me, while the lavender, strangely enough, is not noticeable at this stage. I sprayed the fragrance on to try it out before work and briefly had concerns, given the biting top note, about whether it would be a bit demanding for the office. By "biting," I certainly do not mean unpleasant, but it is just a strong statement and absolutely not what would typically be considered office-appropriate for European noses. One should generally like oud to feel comfortable with it. A quick note for those who are phobic about animalic scents: I do not understand the association of oud with stables and dung and so on, as I have truly never perceived it that way with any fragrance. However, there are difficult and demanding oud scents, even for my nose. This one, however, definitely does not belong to that category.
After about 30 minutes, the crackly-dry first impression fades, and at this point, the lavender slowly comes through. The longer the fragrance is on the skin, the sweeter it becomes - not gourmand-sweet or fruity-sweet, but a fresh, noble, pleasant sweetness that harmonizes wonderfully with the oud and plays with it. Sometimes the woody aspect reaches the nose more, sometimes the sweet aspect. Every time a waft of this fragrance envelops me, I can hardly believe how incredibly good I smell. It is truly a joy and a treat for myself. By the way, I have also received a flurry of compliments from others, predominantly from women.

An interesting side observation:
My colleague wanted to know in the afternoon, after the fragrance had been on my skin for several hours, whether I was wearing Sauvage. And after a brief pause, I knew what she meant. At least for me, it actually develops a note that is also found in Sauvage, particularly when it stops being so terribly intrusive and piercing. I feel reinforced in the suspicion that this impression of freshness is largely due to the lavender, which Oud for Glory and Sauvage share.

Regarding longevity, I can report that I and others can still clearly perceive the fragrance 10 hours after application (and I am not someone who applies heavily). The sillage is potent at first, but later retreats to a distinctly social level.
The bottle is beautiful, and I believe no further words need to be said about the price-performance ratio.

I cannot imagine what anyone could find fault with in this golden treasure (of course, provided one likes oriental fragrances). If anything, it might be too light-footed for hardcore oriental fanatics. But even they might occasionally need an alternative that doesn't hit outside noses too hard. Search no more, for here it is: the fresh oud fragrance.

As the name suggests, a beautiful duet of oud and vanilla. I don't smell jasmine. Warm, slightly sticky-gourmand, but not in an unpleasant way. The oud takes a back seat and doesn't steal the show from the vanilla. This isn't anything wildly complex or really new, but it's still rounded, soft, and a great scent for feeling good and snuggling up.
But now comes the but: Unfortunately, it is very close to my skin and not particularly long-lasting.
Since you can find similarly structured fragrances among the usual suspects in the Arabic sector (Lattafa, Al Haramain, etc.), where the longevity is equal or even better and they cost just a quarter of what I would have to pay for Oud wa Vanilla, it will likely end up being more of a cheapie competition for me.