Lilac Love

Like everyone else, my expectations for this perfume were completely subverted when I actually got to experience it. Also like everyone else, I thought I was getting a spring floral—something that Amouage hasn’t really done yet, to my knowledge anyway. Because I had those preconceptions, I was completely freaked out when I smelled Lilac Love, and I wrote it off as a never-again scent, something I would pop in as an extra in a swap box or give to a friend, if I could find anyone who liked it, which seemed unlikely since it was even too weird for me, and I like weird and challenging perfumes. But like a song that gets stuck in your head that first annoys and then seduces you, Lilac Love called me back, and I had to try it again. Was it really that bad? Could I find a place or a time where I could see myself wearing it? What the hell was it, anyway? A gross gourmand? A funky, almost curdled milky floriental? Was it a misguided attempt at a girly juvenile done up with the more-is-always-more Amouage treatment? It reminded me of Brooke Shields in Pretty Baby: a little girl tarted up with too much makeup and grownup lingerie—unsettling and perverse, and not in a fun way. Like any good perfumista, I occasionally gave ir another try. And eventually this bizarre concoction of innocent florals and dirty chocolate milkshake started to grow on me. In the end, the hook that got me was its heliotrope, because I can’t resist a powdery heliotrope accord, no matter how much discordant baggage it might be carrying on its gauzy little shoulders. I got there the way I have so many times before with a perfume I can’t wrap my head around: I wore it to bed, and that’s exactly where Lilac Love’s natural habitat lies. I’m a sucker for comforting powdery scents when nighttime rolls around and I’m getting ready to settle in with my melatonin and whichever book is currently on the nightstand or queued up on my Scribed audiobook app. My usual choices are pretty predictable; I go for Teint de Neige, L’Instant Magic, or something along those lines—soft, pillowy, fairly linear scents that I would never wear outside of the house—although sometimes I reach for Shalimar if I want something a little witchier and more seductive. Lilac Love is a perverse spin on the same idea, a more complex and almost overdone take on a classic boudoir scent with a busier profile with a more pronounced gourmand element. I don’t know whose idea it was to blend a classic spring bouquet—lilac, rose, and the aforementioned heliotrope—with a languid, lactonic, powdery accord that reminds me of Carnation instant breakfast drink—or what they were smoking, but in a bizarre way, it totally make sense. Take away the slightly sharp lilac and you have a perfectly safe little number that fits in with the usual suspects—but with that lilac, the milky cocoa takes on a strange quality that reminds me of creepy old Brothers Grimm fairy tales or something Tim Burton might imagine, a lavender-tinted Victorian bassinet with a deep purple matte frame with pointy Gothic woodwork resting delicate cat’s claw feet, with a deep and puffy throw blanket in one of those lurid pastels that you can get somewhere like Z Gallerie: a clash of lurid pastels, a psychedelic pillow fight. The scent isn’t particularly mysterious, but the inspiration is. How did this come to be? What was the brief, and what were the intentions? Is this something for little girls, or Harajuku Lolitas? I have no idea, but I would love to find out. Whatever its origins, Lilac Love won me over the first night I snuggled up with it and turned the lights out. Its fresh florals had their moment at the opening, and then they settled into the scads of soothing powder and puffs of cocoa, and instead of feeling choked out, I felt just interested enough that I stopped thinking about whatever happened that day, and all the noise of the modern world disappeared into a haze of old fashioned nursery scents and retro violet cosmetics. Even its previously disturbing chocolate patchouli seemed to swirl into something that, if not exactly harmonious, was evocative of childhood pleasures, and it sunk into my silk comforter and down pillows, and gave way to a plush, drowsy, ridiculously luxurious blend that carried me off to sleep. Thinking about the strange perfume quieted my usually busy mind, and in that context, it worked like a goodnight kiss from a trippy but benevolent fairy godmother. I felt spoiled and overindulged and a little silly, but also serene and relaxed. So now I think of Lilac Love as a perfect bedtime companion. My decant is disappearing at an alarming rate, and I’m trying to justify its outrageous price tag so I don’t have to worry about running out. (It was easy to splurge on my other Amouage, because I wear them during the day when I need a shot of confidence or something to polish off a maximalist outfit that calls for something grand and outrè, but somehow spending 300 dollars on something that I’m only wearing with my pajamas seems kind of ludicrous. On the other hand, I’m a notoriously difficult sleeper—I’m writing this review at 3:30 in the morning—and anything that helps me unwind and keep a relatively normal diurnal cycle is worth taking seriously). It hasn’t displaced my other favorite bedtime perfumes, but it’s something that I don’t want to be without if I can help it. It’s a ridiculous indulgence, but isn’t that what perfume is really about? I’m almost sorry I’ve come to love Lilac Love, not only because it’s expensive but also because a perfume like this one doesn’t really fit with my self-image as a sophisticated, grown up woman with advanced degrees and several languages under my belt. It seems like something that Ariana Grande would bathe in gallons of before flouncing around in her Tiffany diamonds, maribou slippers, and crystal-encrusted kitty ears—a little vulgar, a little juvenile, and maybe a little embarrassing. But then again, self-care is more important than ever in these trying times (as I write this, there’s a terrifying pandemic raging through the world, and everyone is pretty much stuck in their homes, hoping that we can escape its ravages soon and resume life as we used to know it). So maybe it’s a good time to at least buy a bigger decant, because maintaining a secure little cocoon to take shelter in is the only way to stay sane right now. Besides, a kind of crazy perfume seems like a healthy response to a crazy world, and I don’t think things are going to get less crazy anytime soon. And a feeling of safety and shelter from the storm, however illusory, is precious enough to be worth the expense.

A powdery floral unlike any other The fragrances in Amouage's Secret Garden collection are generally considered the easiest and most approachable in the house's portfolio. Lilac Love has a simple structure, but as a scent it is extremely unusual and by no means crowd-pleasing. There is nothing inherently challenging about it for other people, but it may very well test its wearer. I didn't like the fragrance at first at all. I bought it primarily because I enjoy powdery scents and, secondly, because I was intrigued by the lilac note. True lilac essence can only be obtained through the extremely expensive and time-consuming enfleurage method, but in modern perfumery lilac is almost always recreated as an accord - a blend of synthetic aroma molecules and extracts from other flowers. Lilac Love is one of the few fragrances that I simply could not imagine in my mind as a whole. I first tried to grow into it during the winter because its texture is incredibly thick and creamy. However, there was always something unpleasant about it, and I eventually put the bottle aside. As with all fragrances, I never give up without wearing them in different weather conditions and finding the moment when they bloom at their best. I reached for the bottle again on a hot summer day and sprayed it on. I immediately experienced a wow moment: could this really be the same fragrance that had previously felt unpleasantly synthetic, dirty, dusty, and even a little cloying? Lilac Love opens as a rather chaotic jumble that settles almost immediately during the first few minutes, as though every ingredient, every molecule, is rushing to find its proper place. The fragrance unfolds as a heady, completely unique combination of notes, where flower petals are dusted with soft, finely ground dark cocoa powder. Little by little, the flowers begin to crumble and become powdery themselves, while a creamy vanilla paste blends into the composition, smoothed by sandalwood. The powdery mixture of cocoa and flowers never completely disappears; instead, the fragrance consistently maintains both its powdery and creamy qualities. It is not particularly sweet to my nose, nor is it distinctly gourmand. Despite the cocoa and vanilla, it does not remind me of anything edible because the flowers remain such a dominant part of the composition. The floral notes blend seamlessly together, but at times I notice more lilac and at other times more heliotrope, while the iris remains quietly in the background throughout, contributing more to the fragrance's texture than asserting itself as a distinct note. The heliotrope develops into a delicate, hazy almond-like nuance, but I detect nothing cherry-like from it at all. The gardenia is never prominent enough for me to stand out clearly, and I cannot distinguish the peony at all. Lilac Love is a fragrance that simply has to be experienced firsthand; its uniqueness is difficult to capture in words. Some may find it old-fashioned, but I personally love that dense blend of cocoa and floral dust, which feels both sophisticated and captivating, elegant yet intriguing. In its own unique way, the fragrance is also deeply comforting. Its creaminess, together with the gentle vanilla and sandalwood, creates the feeling of a warm, embracing hug. Lilac Love taught me once again that some fragrances simply demand patience. It is not a scent that reveals its beauty immediately or in every season, but when the conditions are right, its unusual combination of powdery florals, cocoa, and creamy woods becomes remarkably harmonious and memorable. It remains one of Amouage's most distinctive creations - not because it is technically complex, but because it presents familiar notes in a way that feels unlike anything else. For those willing to give it time, Lilac Love offers a quietly rewarding and deeply individual fragrance experience. Thank you for reading, I hope my review was helpful. I would appreciate if you follow me on my IG and/or YouTube (English subtitles available): @ninamariahperfumes It gives me a lot of motivation to write more.

My mother had a lilac bush in the yard of the house I grew up in. It was a gift from her father, a man who died too early in my life for me to have formed any tactile memories of, but a man I am told was consistently brimming with love and pride for his family - and for his young grandson in particular. At my mother’s direction, my grandfather planted this rather gangly shrub smack in the middle of the yard, spanning almost the entire width - from the neighbor’s fence to the side of our garage with just a small pass through on either side. I say it was a gangly shrub because that’s the way it it looked three out of the four seasons through my adolescent eyes - utterly unremarkable. And while my adult sensibilities understand the conventions of having attractive Spring blooming foliage to delineate a separation of spaces between the play area and the garden, my childhood self just yearned for an uninterrupted sports turf, so accordingly the lilac bush often ended up being used (and abused) as a soccer goal. We moved away from that house as I entered high school, and I would bet that the bush was dug up soon after the new homeowners moved in. If Google Streetview is any indication, the lilacs were replaced with some sort of untamed evergreen monstrosity, a landscape revamp clearly prioritizing privacy over aesthetics. Still, I remember the lilac blossoms. The seamless gradations from purple to white and back contrasted against the darker green leaves and wood-like stems, the wafts of their floral essence leaving latent impressions on my young mind like a muse in waiting. And as rings true in countless other hazy examples, these obstacles of latchkey childhoods in time become the sweet nourishing fruits of our memories - the influences that determine the soft edges of where our personalities end and who we otherwise may have become. These are indeed the elements of youth we come to be the most nostalgic for. It is an understatement to say that Lilac Love only brings me back to late Spring twilights catching fireflies, racing time before the streetlights came on. Or shooting soda cans off the neighbor’s fence with cork guns in the high sun July heat, the lilacs having passed their prime and withering to more muted browns. In actuality, it evokes the entire era and the pleasures that came along with it - most of all, from my current perspective, the inherent absence of adult anxieties. It is in this spirit that smelling Lilac Love, and to a slightly lesser extent it’s Secret Garden Collection sister fragrance Blossom Love, reminded me of a poem that I hadn’t thought about for several years - XIV. Juegas Todos Los Dias (Everyday You Play) by Pablo Neruda. In one of Neruda’s most celebrated works, he lavishes his lover with praise and declarations of unbreakable desire, all the while expressing deep gratitude that, despite his many faults, he is loved and wanted in return. It is an unflinchingly honest and confident profession of the complex array of emotions, traditions, and qualifiers that make up the philosophy of romantic love. A plunge into the depths of vulnerability, one resulting in the realization that - given that this love is true - there is no reason to come up for air. To me, Lilac Love is the sensory embodiment of this poem. And beneath the nostalgia and romantic notions, it possesses a subtle, yet certainly noticeable, ever-enduring undercurrent of lust. On some level, I could fall for anyone I encounter wearing this. After all, we all want to be with someone who makes us forget we ever had any worries in this world. In short, look no further for a wearable swoon-worthy statement on desire and it’s relation to trust, as well as all of the early life influences that build up to it. This is the one. Or at least it is for me. “Quiero hacer contigo lo que la primavera hace con los cerezos. / I want to do with you what Spring does with the cherry trees.” XIV. Juegas Todos Los Dias Pablo Neruda

In New England, one of the biggest joys is the fleeting weeks in spring when the lilacs bloom. It's a core memory that feels like it's part of who I am. Lilac is not a trendy floral and it's not as well known to the world, but it’s criminally underrated. This is one of the few fragrances I've encountered that doesn't just render a pure realistic lilac-forward profile, but really tries to put some imagination into the use of lilac and sees the potential in it. The lilac in this fragrance mixes seamlessly with the other floral notes. I find every note to be coated in a powdery feel. The cacao is definitely prominent for at least 3 hours of the wear for me. It's a dry raw cacao. This is another one of those fragrances where you shouldn't apply the usual measures for how we rate fragrances these days i.e beast mode vs skin scent, silage, loud vs. soft, comparability to other scents...To me this fragrance doesn't really play by those rules. To be clear, the lasting power is 12+ hours. However, I don't feel like this is a fragrance that will grab attention or be noticeable in a head-on conscious sense. This fragrance adds a soft misty aura around everything as you go about your day. The presence is so very gentle, but highly effective. It's one of those feelings that's hard to sell or explain, but it must be experienced iykyk. Practically speaking, I think anyone of any age could wear it. It's not a clubbing fragrance, but a daily-driver. It's wonderful for people with more sensitive noses and office friendly. It's an elevated casual scent. It would be wonderful for parents and teachers as well. Because of my personal memories of Lilac, I see this as a springtime scent. However I've seen others who are new to lilacs see this fitting into more seasons. Even though this is a versatile daily scent, the rarity of lilacs also makes this very unique. I think most people experience lilacs in expensive soaps, so this gives a spa-like feel too, but we can't forget the cacao twist. Despite this, it's not high-concept or too challenging. But past the surface, there's so much more to get into and appreciate! My first few wears lasted almost all day, with some top-ups just to re-live the opening. What sends me about this fragrance though is the deep dry-down/end stages. I fell asleep wearing this all over, and as I woke and was just coming to my senses I was met with the gentlest scent that made everything glow. It was the perfect potency to barely catch your attention, but not assault your senses and not faint enough you have to actively search for it. Most of the notes stuck around for the deep dry down but evolved to something lovely. I caught the sandalwood, vanilla, orris, tonka and lilac still all those hours later. It was so smoothly blended, nothing really overtook the other. This is when I really realized how every stage and characteristic of this fragrance is intentional and well-crafted. Even in the ending stages, it didn't feel like the fragrance was simply fading, but had a sort of structure to it. There was an exit plan. It serves as a reminder of what sophistication, artistry and luxury can be. Talented craftsmanship, and luxurious materials at their disposal makes magic. Sometimes the best fragrances and most impactful impressions aren't the ones that punch you in the face from a mile away, it's the ones that purposely float just at the edges of your consciousness, that grab you and make you think "Wait- what is this? Where is this coming from? I can barely grasp it, but I need to!". These types can also simply slip into your world and gently elevate your day. My impressions are based off an old formulation bottle and a sample from unknown formulation.

Chocolilaclicious!! Lilac Love is soooo yummy! Perfect for fall and winter, powdery coco mingles with lovely lilac, fluffy heliotrope, a splash of vanilla, and grounding patchouli to concoct a truly enchanting scent. Sadly, longevity is moderate at best and projection is intimate... rather ironic as my interest in Amouage was initially piqued by their legendary performance. But Lilac Love cast her whispering spell on me, and now she is mine. I have to refresh throughout the day, but fortunately I found an older silver-capped bottle at a discounted price. So I spritz with reckless and decadent abandon! Note: I have also sampled the current maroon bottle at Neimans, and the two smell identical to my nose. Longevity/silage is the same with both. I think the old bottle is much prettier, so I was very happy to find it through a reputable source. This is definitely a fall/winter fragrance for me, it is so warm and cozy. And I would not at all call it a gourmand. The cacao note is like lightly sweetened coco powder, mixed with powdery heliotrope, giving it a bit of that “cosmeticy” powder vibe I love so much. In addition to lilac, floral notes include rose, peony, jasmine, and gardenia. Typically I loathe patchouli, but in Lilac Love it serves as subtle, grounding base. Envision an elegant woman on a wintry morning, sitting at her dressing table leisurely putting on her makeup and sipping hot cocoa while preparing for the day. She is wearing a lilac satin robe with marabou trim and pearls. Next to her is a beautiful lilac floral arrangement in a sterling silver vase. If only Lilac Love possessed that legendary Amouage silage, I would be in heaven! Lilac Love is a delicious floral confectionery delight, and unlike anything else in my collection. Enamored with Amouage, I subsequently purchased Tuberose Love and Love Delight, both of which have excellent performance and are also from The Secret Garden Collection. All three are such unique and captivating scents, I highly recommend them all!