Fate Woman

I really dislike stepping into echo chambers and adding my voice to the din and drone, but it’s hard to not do that with Amouage Fate Woman. Amouage is not a stranger to the lands of classically Western/French perfumery, a place where they’ve veered fairly often - but Fate Woman isn’t veering, it’s destination is classic French and it gets there with the speed and force of a train. Yes, there is quite a bit of overlap with the juggernauts of Opium, Shalimar, Cinnabar, and on and on and on - and that’s where the din and the drone of the echo chamber becomes quite funny to listen to: many will quickly deride Fate Woman for being too much like any of those other perfumes, but not a single din or drone is being critical of those other perfumes for being like each other. Why are we picking on Fate Woman? Because it had the unfortunate timing of coming after many other massively popular Oriental ambers? It is lost on a lot of people just how rare it is for something truly novel to be composed in modern perfumery; nearly every perfume in existence is a close if not exact facsimile of some other perfume, intentional or not. The little details will make outsized differences. So, I plead, give it a rest folks. What are Fate Woman’s little details? Claws. We’re told to go looking for the sharp little edges in the perfume right from the beginning, when Fate Woman opens with spicy and slightly vegetal-fruity chili peppers. It’s quite intense, particularly with the amplification provided by bitter, oily, and sour bergamot and a completely parched and woody cinnamon that wants to make your lungs collapse. The spiciness is real, but not so real that you’ll begin sneezing or tearing-up, but be ready nonetheless. After the opening dispenses the sharp edges become quite a bit harder to find but they’re still there, quietly nestled. In the heart you’ll find the claws in the narcissus note being presented as a slightly sharp green edge, and a rainbow peppercorn type facet. Finding these two little claws is not particularly easy since you’ll have to dig through plenty of rose, labdanum, and incense to get to them. To that end, the heart of Fate Woman is classically Oriental floral amber: elegant and rich red rose, a sort of standard frankincense smoke, and warm and slightly sweet balsamic labdanum. The claws get even harder to find in the final dry down to the skin scent as Fate Woman goes completely warm balsamic amber. You can find them in the peppery facet of the patchouli, but it doesn’t feel like claws since this is a pretty bog-standard amber: pleasantly sweet earthy, leathery animalic, vanillic, balsamic, and a bit of damp green woods from some moss material. Fate Woman is beautifully done. Excellent materials, excellent blending, excellent performance, and it smells excellent too - all the things we hope and expect from Amouage. An unusual characteristic of it for an Amouage is how weightless it feels. It is very rich, and very diffusive - make no mistakes about those - but it is also very breathable, light, and airy to the point where it almost feels like it doesn’t exist. It just hovers in the air like an imperceptible cloud or a spirit presence.... Ok... fine... I’ll go back to the echo chamber for a second: is it a redundant amber - not sufficiently different to justify its existence? About the only criticism I can levy against Fate Woman is that I wish it was more “Amouage” and less French. The storied Omani brand has a style and a voice uniquely its own, particularly when it was under the guidance of Christopher Chong, but that style and voice is mostly missing from Fate Woman. I wish it was bolder, more Arabian, maybe a bit pushier or edgier, instead of being very pretty in the classically French style. That said though, yes I do find it to be different enough from its predecessors to stand on its own, especially that feeling of complete weightlessness that is so very rare in this genre. Different enough that I purchased a full bottle of it, and I find myself wanting it at different times and for different reasons than any of my vintage or new Shalimar formats, or my 1986 Opium, etc. The doomed fate of Fate Woman has already been delivered, today’s Opium is a total mess, Cinnabar has been neutered and Musc Ravageur is a shell of itself (thanks, Lauder), but thankfully Shalimar is still in pretty good shape (particularly the extrait). The old guard, and even some new guard, that Fate Woman is routinely compared to are starting to fall, so maybe what is considered derivative about Fate Woman should be celebrated; if it wasn’t discontinued, in several more years’ time it very likely could be one of or maybe the last still standing.

The opening is really tough. I feel like I'm in a jiu-jitsu match, and the spice has it's grips around my neck. It never sinks in entirely though, although it's oppressive and aggressive for 10 minutes. Cold air helps. But thankfully it mellows out, and there's a touch of time that feels very powdery too. Why? I don't know. It's about 25-45 minutes in. I know there are some powdery aromachemicals or whatever in here. Don't tell me there aren't 🧐 The rest of this review is going to be long and possibly poetic. If you don't like that, why don't you bugger off now. K? ~ ~ I've been thinking about labdanum very much this year. If you research it's history, it ranges in depth nearly as much as much as the depth of aroma itself. Historians and aromatics enthusiasts actually claw at each other as to where it originated. It *seems* (don't shoot me) that it's as ancient (probably more) as the Bible itself, and it's birthplace is the near east, maybe even the area of the 3 rivers mentioned in Genesis. It's known as "rock rose", and it might be the "Rose of Sharon". Ancient Egyptians offered it in their sacred rites, and it's likely a key component in "onycha". It's integral in Arab perfumery, and still today is cherished by those of Islamic faith. It additionally has roots in Mediterranean/Grecian history, was the apple of Herotodus' eye, and is referenced in Greek mythology. Most likely offered to Aphrodite. Today, it's critical to amber accords, and naturally the French claim to hold the most exquisite essential oils, or CO2 extractions (of f*cking course they do, they're French 🙄😏). The Jewish of heritage and Judistic consider this flower a primary substance in traditional blends as well, snubbing other misuses and pagan applications (of which there are myriads). The Celts and Nordic even have their claim on it. Vikings allegedly sized aromatics and spices, and developed a taste for exquisite, exotic fragrances, not least of all, labdanum/cistus. I'm not about to debate the moralistic implications here...but still, it's important even in Scandinavia [How many people can I upset and offend here?! Pop me bruh!]. It's a massive deal in Morocco too, which is kind of known as a cultural crossroad. So, naturally I grow more and more inclined and fascinated by this unassuming little white flower as I dig into what is obviously only surface-level information on a global, and inter-continental scale. Everyone is griping that this...this is *THEIR* flower. Their peoples' flower. Their heritage. Christians, Muslims, Jews, Greeks, Egyptians, Celts, French, Spaniards, Norse... To make things even more engaging, labdanum varies in fragrance naturally as much as these peoples and cultures vary. It can be sweet. Resinous. Incense-y. Warm. Bitter. Mossy. Animalic. Leathery. Rose-y. Even powdery. And so as I smell this fragrance today, I think truthfully that it smells like labdanum entirely. But it doesn't smell like it even has lot of actual labdanum in it (that I can tell after owning 3 different bottles of essential oil, and testing it for years). It smells of plushy vanilla. And labdanum. It smells of spicy incense (a sweet kind, this one isn't crazy in the drydown). But also labdanum. It smells of warm leather jackets next to the fire. Yes. But again. So does labdanum. So what I'm trying to say I suppose, is that this smells of the notes listed, in some part (moreso a powdery incense to me), but in a way that simply echos the qualities of labdanum. It's as if they took facets if labdanum and highlighted them using other ingredients, but it all ties into this centerpiece of a flower (a flower of epic proportions). So regardless of what it is that you're smelling, you're actually just smelling a side of the rock rose. It's really quite interesting, and I wonder if the perfumer intended it. Probably not. But it's kind of like a mandala piece, or some sacred geometry that spins off from a central point, and the eye is drawn inward. This is the olfactory equivalent, and it's just a lot of framing around that central scent - cistus. You might not get *any* of this from this fragrance, and that's cool too. It's a very warm, sweet ambery incense with a powdery vanilla. I don't smell daffodil/narcissus AT ALL, or a lot of other other things. But that labdanum matches all that other stuff, and this well-blended. Great longevity, decent projection. It's delicious in the cold air! So. Umm...I want this. I'm going to save my sample like a junkie, it's gorgeous.

Fate is a conundrum. I purchased it, untested, a year ago, hoping it would become a sort of Future Opium for me—even the stunning bottle has a Luc Besson Euro Sci-Fi vibe, possibly the most gorgeous bottle of the millennium. Bottle aside, Turin related Fate’s structure to the original Opium, mentioning a minty note that the two share. I agree, as the warm accords of chilli and cinnamon are somehow cooled here, possibly tempered by the wonderful bergamot in the opening. It’s this freshness and brevity that keep Fate from being just another straight-forward oriental spice, like Cinnabar. Turin also dubbed Fate a “masterpiece”, but I don’t agree with him that often—it was really you guys and Kafkaesque who swayed me (Fate is a favourite of theirs) and so, drawn in by the siren’s song, I swallowed what turned out to be a bitter pill, by purchasing the pricey 100ml bottle. So, you can imagine that I was fairly miffed when Fate presented itself as little more than The Powder & Castoreum Bomb on my skin. I tried and tried, and couldn’t detect a drop of incense, vanilla, woods, much less a single petal of a yellow flower. There can also be soapy/chewable vitamin c/powdered lemonade drink mix accords lurking in Fate, during the opening stages, much like the citrus shampoo/aldehydes so often present in Channel’s fragrances. Some may find this stage of development difficult to bear, especially when anticipating a spicy, incense-laced floral Oriental. Anyway, I sold it (for less than half of what I paid for it. Weeping still) because I was mad at it. Nonetheless, I decided to try Fate again, and surprisingly, I discovered the fragrance that everyone is raving about, from top to base. In fact, I disassembled the nearly-empty sample atomiser, greedy for those last elusive drops, not able to bear being without it while I wait for my bottle to arrive . Face-palm, indeed. Golden, hazy light, swathes of gauzy yellow and mossy grey-green, courtesy of my beloved frilly ecru wonder, oak moss, cool puffs of cinnamon-bark incense abound...Jay-sus, I wish I’d kept that bottle, but no mind, I’ll reunite with Fate via a 50ml—even though the larger is a better deal— if only because we had a rough start. I do become anosmic to nearly every fragrance within a short period, yes, even to this heavy-hitter, but oh the few hours spent with Fate’s golden, gossamer-winged, flower-wreathed nymph. Fate is opulent and expensive, one of those fragrances that makes me feel undeserving of it: Never have I seen an association made with Fate and a 51 year-old post-menopausal woman in threadbare combat trousers, a ratty New York Dolls T-shirt and rubber gloves, on her knees, scrubbing the mouldy tile grout. However, regardless of myriad associations with the smouldering, porcelain-skinned, raven-haired Parisian woman, if I reserved my finer fragrances for special occasions, nightlife prowling and/or manhunts, salacious liaisons in French lingerie, they’d all spoil before even a few sprays-worth were missing. I wear fragrances to feel good, to enjoy, make life a wee bit better, so I’ll wear them as and when I like.. Christopher Chong describes Fate as a “loud” fragrance, and I disagree. Fate isn’t a heavy-hitter at all on me, which is unusual for an Amouage fragrance, but I love the wafts of the various accords passing through with every movement. While it would never be deemed a skin scent, I find it to be unexpectedly smooth, and so well-blended, it’s all rounded edges and no single accord dominates here, which can make it difficult to dissect, but not to love. Still, even if Fate were truly “loud”, this wouldn’t be a bad thing—after all, we don’t covet Amouage fragrances for their simplicity or subtlety, do we. In conclusion, if you own a bottle of Fate, and it morphs into the stinky powder demon on you, I suggest that you not only apply it with a heavier hand (the powdered, castoreum, chypre notes abound with a light spray that you walk into, the “Oriental” spices, woods, depth, abound with a heavier dose at once) keep it for awhile and try it during different seasons, weather—hell, hormonal fluctuations!—just don’t give up on it too soon, like I did. Life is too long to keep adding to the list of regrets, even if it’s a minor one, like giving up on a big, beautiful bottle of awesome.

Fate woman was gifted to me. Firstly, I'd like to say thank you, I'm honored. I've taken a good three wearings now, in heat, cool, and heat again. I definitely have to conclude that warmer weather favors Amouage offerings, although they are nice, rich & satisfying in winter as well. On to Fate Woman itself. Fate begins with a conflicted opening, immediate opposition of bergamot, & chili pepper, backed by vanilla- which is disconcerting for a moment, as though one is experiencing a temperature change, or intense emotion. This simultaneously hot & cool juxtaposition is gone in about 15 minutes, and then benzoin, vanilla, cinnamon, castoreum, & soft, finished leather join together to create a warming effect not unlike the transition of an "icy hot" type of balm. (No smell in common, just the sensation.) That's why I got the goosebumps, the cool bergamot finally leaves the party! It felt for a moment as if I were in a warm climate wearing only silk, and was hit with an icy breeze! Back to the gorgeously rich heart, Fate takes a twist from the duality of what may have been, and into the realm of now, and here it becomes a scent full of warm, intense, and sensuous beauty. A memory of desert, a longing for warmth-Fate exudes this languorous warmth. It seems to play a small trick, the sillage around me will be floral, I will smell out of nowhere a beautiful jasmine & narcissus combo, but close to my wrists I can only smell the rich base notes (the ever present incense factor in most Amouage offerings gently adrift here) and the leather, always present for me. Not like Bandit, or Cuoio, something truly balmy, soft, finished & buttery, that you want to caress. I think the castoreum has an amplifying effect here to create a sense of being among luxury things or surroundings. And then that halo of divine floral flits about for just a moment, like a memory or momentary daydream which quickly evaporates. Patchouli, is here just to ground the scent, and does not become assertive as in Epic, Labdanum keeps it a bit in the narcoticly addictive and slightly forbidden category almost as in HdP Marquis De Sade's Leather & Labdanum combo. (once again just component comparison). Only in the very end do I smell any rose, or moss, and I think that this is once again, just a masterful blending, they seem to act as a team to keep this fragrance from becoming too sweet, and just overboard. That slight rose & mossy astringentness with the bit of patchouli grounds it all. The verdict, sillage, wonderful & billowy. Almost throws out a powder nuance for a moment, but it seems to be a more multifaceted & colored lift than the "vintage talcum" style I've grown to tolerate, and sometimes enjoy. Longevity is impressive, as is the appeal of the scent & development. I love a good story, and Fate will take you on a journey, through contradictory beginnings, a rich, rewarding climax, and end in a balmy, sensuous drydown, kept preciously close. It tickles my memory & pulls my heart strings-What a great perfume should do. In fact, it reminds me a bit of the Shalimar effect, as Fate creates its own mood & journey. Presentation is stunning. The photos don't do it justice. I feel like this is a fragrance for a woman who has both loved and lost. Not a frivolous fragrance, but contemplative and contradictory. Its truly beautiful, and I find myself craving a luxurious, languorous, cloud of it at bedtime. Which is fine with husband, who loves it, and it seemed to fascinate others who asked what it was. Its a scent that wants several tests to open up, rather in the moody manner of the legendary Mitsouko. Give Fate a chance, & maybe you'll find love! A quick edit, I wouldn't limit this to the Women, men who enjoy GPH2 and its warm, spicy siblings may really enjoy Fate Woman! Once again, thank you to my generous Perfume Fairy!

I wondered how Amouage would interpret fate. How is it so similar to Shalimar? - I remember, this was the first time I smelled Fate. Fate is a huge diamond from the East with dozens of perfectly faceted faces. Under the ruthless illumination of the showcase light, Fate at first glance is composed of pieces of cold white with no temperature on one side - in fact, Fate will flash with brilliance at different angles. Compared to the warm and affectionate Shalimar, Fate does lack some sensibility. Continuous "Boom Boom" plosives, and a prolonged hiss... The cool acid bubbles on the surface disappeared without a trace. That's presumably aldehydes at work (and possibly bergamot). ...I'm guessing there's an extremely subtle chemistry going on here. The Fate at the beginning was like sparkling water, with a clear texture. Bright mint tones, preceded by a layer of glass before the brilliant floral notes of eugenol, golden narcissus, jasmine and rose. Incense, pepper, and cinnamon pile up fat solid bodies. Difficult to define fragrance notes. Fate seen through the glass has no outline, but a mass of colorful colors. The sourness of bergamot neutralizes the pungency of the powdered spice, the labdanum melts the floral aroma, adds the almost imperceptible smoke, the fishy smell of animal glands (cumin civet beaver...), the dampness of oakmoss , the warmth of amber. A silent thunder. more art forms than other senses can receive. Fragrance is actually not as easy as I thought. Especially for someone like me who has no relevant olfactory memory, scent resonance is very difficult. Fate, it hits my heart right once. The majestic symphony of destiny! Fate, full of tension, is a world of its own in the cold wind. It accompanied me home, took out three Opiums of different ages and concentrations, and placed them with Fate. Take a deep breath. Scent of the orient wafts in the air. Carnations...? It turns out that the common secret of the two is eugenol. Fate is a rainbow across the sky. It has a sense of drama, structure, and the perfumer handles the conflicting turns between the elements, and it does a good job. Floral, spice, chypre (oakmoss), animal gland incense, incense, wood, the six categories of elements resonate and echo, which is very exciting. Perfumers should take into account the odor of each material itself and blend it, but also consider the nature of chypre and oriental. Perfect balance and unparalleled coordination. If I could only pick one Amouage, my answer would always be Fate. Bought a bottle at the end of the year as a birthday present for myself. I dare not say that I have smelled Amouage's Fate. But I know why, it has such a name. I understand that the changes in the perfume industry in the past 100 years are what Fate really wants to tell - destiny!