Memoir Woman

Memoir Woman – Amouage Kupiłam Memoir, bo chciałam czegoś ciemnego, eleganckiego, zielonego, skórzano-kadzidlanego. Czegoś z tajemnicą. Czegoś, co nie pachnie jak „ładna kobieta”, tylko jak kobieta, która wie, gdzie zakopano poprzednich trzech mężczyzn i ma do tego pasujący płaszcz. No i dostałam dokładnie to. Tylko w wersji: królowa piekieł schodzi po marmurowych schodach w czarnej sukni z absyntu, dymu, skóry i gorzkich ziół, a wszyscy nagle przestają oddychać, bo nie wiadomo, czy przyszła na bal, na pogrzeb, czy podpisać czyjś wyrok. Pierwsze uderzenie Pierwsze uderzenie pachnie jak otwarcie ciężkich drzwi do ciemnej sali, w której dawno temu odbywały się rytuały, romanse, zdrady i bardzo kosztowne błędy. Zielona gorycz wchodzi pierwsza. Nie świeża trawka, nie ogórek z wodą spa, nie „naturalna energia poranka”. To jest absynt w kieliszku po północy, gorzkie zioła rozgniecione w czarnych rękawiczkach, dym kadzidła przyklejony do aksamitu i skóra tak ciemna, że prawdopodobnie ma własnego adwokata. To nie jest zapach, który pyta, czy może wejść. Memoir wchodzi, zamyka drzwi za sobą i od razu wiadomo, że jeśli ktoś tu ma przepraszać, to raczej nie ona. Po godzinie Po godzinie robi się jeszcze lepiej, bo Memoir nie łagodnieje. Ona tylko zdejmuje koronę, kładzie ją na stole i patrzy, kto pierwszy odważy się coś powiedzieć. Zioła robią się głębsze, bardziej trujące, bardziej eleganckie. Kadzidło nie dymi jak w kościele dla ciotek od różańca, tylko jak prywatna kaplica kobiety, która ma własne grzechy, własne zasady i zero zainteresowania cudzymi opiniami. Czuć skórę, ale nie motocyklową jak w Cuoium. To nie jest garaż, smar i klucz francuski. To jest skórzany fotel w gabinecie czarnej arystokratki, która podpisuje dokumenty krwią, nie długopisem. Ciemny aksamit, gorzki alkohol, zimny metal biżuterii, stara biblioteka, kurz na zakazanych księgach i zapach świecy zgaszonej dwoma palcami. Memoir pachnie jak kobieta, która nie musi być głośna, bo jej cisza ma większą projekcję niż większość cudzych dramatów. W bazie W bazie robi się absolutnie królewsko. Ciemno, miękko, gorzko, dymnie, ale bez ani grama słabości. To jest moment, w którym wszystkie dziewczęce, słodkie, milutkie zapachy stoją pod ścianą i udają, że poprawiają sukienki, bo właśnie zrozumiały, że przyszła osoba dorosła. Memoir nie jest „sexy” w tym plastikowym, klubowym sensie. Ona nie robi dzióbka do zdjęcia i nie pachnie jak waniliowy drink za 49 zł. Ona jest seksualna jak zakazany rozdział w starej książce, jak czarne pończochy pod żałobną suknią, jak spojrzenie, po którym ktoś sam oddaje klucze do mieszkania i jeszcze przeprasza, że za wolno. W bazie zostaje czarny aksamitny tren. Skóra, kadzidło, dym, ziołowa gorycz, trochę popiołu, trochę nocy i ten specyficzny luksus Amouage, który nie mówi „mam pieniądze”. On mówi: „mam dynastię, sekret i bardzo dobrego prawnika”. Trwałość? Jak klątwa rzucona spokojnym głosem. Na skórze siedzi długo, elegancko i bez nerwów. Na ubraniu zostaje jak zapach czarnego płaszcza po wyjściu z zakazanej sali. Na psychice — jak wspomnienie kobiety, która spojrzała na ciebie raz i przez resztę życia zastanawiasz się, czy to było zaproszenie, ostrzeżenie, czy wyrok. Psikniesz Memoir i nagle wszystkie „ładne perfumki” zaczynają wyglądać jak dekoracje z działu ślubnego w markecie. Projektanci napisali Pewnie coś o tajemnicy, wspomnieniu, szyprze, absyncie, elegancji, skórze, kadzidle i kobiecości. Powinni napisać „Dla kobiet, które nie chcą pachnieć jak kwiatek, deser ani miła koleżanka z biura. Dla kobiet, które chcą pachnieć jak królowa piekieł w czarnej sukni, z kieliszkiem absyntu, dymem kadzidła we włosach i miną mówiącą: ‘mam przeszłość, nie zadawaj głupich pytań’.” Ocena: 10000/10 Nie oceniam Memoir. Memoir ocenia mnie. To nie są perfumy. To jest tron. Czarny, zimny, obity skórą i aksamitem, ustawiony gdzieś między kaplicą, biblioteką a salą sądową dla ludzi, którzy myśleli, że mogą wejść bez zaproszenia. Memoir nie pachnie „ładnie”. Memoir pachnie jak kobieta, która weszła do piekła, rozejrzała się, poprawiła rękawiczki i powiedziała: „Dobrze. Od teraz ja tu ustalam temperaturę.”

Only the spider is safe in her web ★★★★★ Let’s start by saying that Memoir Woman is easily my most complimented scent out of the hundred others I’ve tried over the years. What’s even more interesting is that I’ve worn Memoir maybe less than ten times so far and it managed to get me an unusual five compliments on a single day, men especially seem to get absolutely crazy over it. I’m not pulling a Jeremy Fragrance card here and conclude this therefore must be a masterpiece, but compliments do speak volumes on how a certain fragrance suits one’s personality and mixes with their body chemistry. I must agree with the general public and admit that Memoir is indeed gorgeous and wearing it is always a confidence boost. It was love at first sniff after all. The very first spray did vaguely remind me of Poison (I own and know vintage Poison well) as Memoir also possesses a similar purple fruitiness that is both tart and jam-like. Poison is much sweeter and headier with the gargantuan musk-tuberose whereas Memoir steers into a dry spicy direction with a breathy-animalic jasmine instead. They’re not interchangeable by any means but it would be a lie to say that they have absolutely nothing in common. Another fragrance that popped into my mind was Lolita Lempicka, which not only has a fruity tart cherry accord but also the aromatic dark green licorice-anise combo that comes off as absinthe-like much like in Memoir. For a very simplified description, I’d go so far and say that Memoir has both the raspy venomousness of Poison and the benevolent allure of Lolita Lempicka – a perfume that draws closer and closer but never truly reveals its intentions. An embrace that leaves doubt behind, Memoir is truly mysterious in every sense of the word. The note table is another mystery to me because the scent turned out to be much different than I had anticipated. I would say the most prominent notes are plum and cinnamon in the top, tobacco, jasmine and absinthe in the heart and finally a shameless leather-castoreum base. I also want to point out that Poison and Lolita Lempicka are masterfully structured and have a clear identity. Memoir in comparison is quite messy, and it hits you in the face with lots of loud notes that all scream for attention. Now this could be taken as an insult, yet I think this is the key element of the whole show. It is just as imperfect as a real person would be and is not afraid to show it. Diamonds are forever but we people aren’t and the flaws that makes us human are also the roots that grow into adoration and obsession. Note that messy is not equivalent to a mess. Usually I gravitate towards polished and pristine fragrances that evoke awe with unattainable perfection but in Memoir the unstructure in some strange way gives it a sense of upbeat briskness despite it's gothic scent. Memoir is not the scent of an idealized fantasy figure, it is the scent of a real living person. Also, did I mention this stuff is staggeringly sexy? Soundtrack: Neon Indian - Ephemeral Artery

I was excited to try Memoir, and it fully lives up to my expectations. It is another rich, complex perfume from Amouage that pays homage to the classics while looking to the future. It is very well-blended, and as a result it is hard to pick out individual notes. It is a herbal-smoky-woody-amber scent with a floral heart. It reminds me in places of vintage Opium in particular, but I understand the Poison comparisons too - there is a plum-tuberose accord in here too. There are facets of other Amouage scents in here too, namely Lyric Woman (spicy rose), Epic Woman (rose-oud), Interlude (smoky-woody-floral-amber) and Fate (old-style oriental). Memoir feels more oriental than chypre, but the oakmoss and leather notes in the base qualify Memoir for chypre status. Opulent and dark, this belongs alongside the best of Amouage. Memoir starts off quite herbal thanks to the wormwood; damp, dark green and slightly bitter. I get something slightly bittersweet that is akin to angelica, and some peppery notes that kick-start the spiciness. Balsamic and boozy, it is joined by floral notes after a little while. Rose is initially the most prominent floral note to me, complemented in the most classic way by sweet spices, especially clove. Incense adds smokiness, and it is pretty woody here too. This accord always reminds me of Mass - I absolutely adore a good incense note, and when it is combined with wood/spices/rose - all the better! Here, it really reminds me of Lyric. As it develops, tuberose emerges. Heady in a vintage-style manner, it resembles a more muted Poison, particularly as I swear I can smell plum here too. The woody notes and spices remain, and the sweet amber accord in the base develops thanks to the labdanum, paving the way to the leather accord. The leather is animalic but soft, adding a nice depth to Memoir at its later stages. It becomes slightly mossy as it fades, the oakmoss and leather forming the chypre here. It fades to a dry, animalic, mossy skin scent with a hint of incense. Sillage is moderate and longevity is long-lasting. Another excellent, opulent perfume from Amouage, this is unisex despite the name. Best worn in autumn/winter for special occasions. Beautiful and expensive-smelling, but I don't think I need full bottles of both this and Lyric in my collection. 4.5/5.

Memoir Woman by Amouage is intriguingly unisex, with a slight masculine edge despite its feminine name. Gentlemen, don’t let the title "woman" deter you—this fragrance is worth exploring! I have a bottle from the latest 2024 batch, and I’ve noticed that its performance isn’t as stellar as the older formulation as some reviews might suggest. Unfortunately, I haven't experienced the older versions to compare yet. On my skin, the longevity is moderate to long, and the sillage is quite subtle. Overspraying helps a bit, but it’s still not as robust as I hoped. However, when applied to clothing, Memoir Woman truly shines. It lasts for days, with improved sillage and an alluring, cozy, and mysterious aura. Despite initial concerns about performance, I find myself drawn to it, craving its distinctive scent at random times throughout the day, its truly magnetic. I prefer it on darker fabrics, especially black, where it leaves a captivating, dark allure. The fragrance seems to lacks sharp notes aside from a hint of absinthe in the opening. The other components blend seamlessly, reminiscent of a room filled with subtle incense. This creates a nuanced, dusty incense effect that’s complex yet discreet. In comparison, Amouage's Jubilation 25 for Women offers remarkable longevity and projection with just a few sprays. Memoir Woman, on the other hand, might benefit from some aging. I plan to revisit it after some time to see if its performance improves. For now, while the performance isn't perfect, the scent itself is mesmerizing and addictive. If Antaeus had a feminine counterpart, or if Poison were to have a masculine counterpart, this might be it, as to my nose this seems to float somewhere in between but also remaining so unique and unlike anything else I can think of. This was a blind buy driven by a great deal, and I suspect it may reveal more of its character in warmer seasons. As it is currently late winter, its full potential is still unfolding. Edit: It is now one of the scents that I use the most often in rotation now! it is lovely! After letting it settle for about a month it now smells a lot stronger and all the notes stands out much more, I now start to get what the other reviews are saying. This is quickly becoming one of my top favourites !

Imagine walking along a cobblestone alley, puffs of breath and chimney smoke visible in the frosty morning. The chatter of passersby, rolling carriage wheels and horses hooves fills the air on December 21st. There is a palpable feeling of excitement and bustle as people stream in and out of shops and come and go from the city. You glance down at your heeled leather boots and see they are wet from walking through drifts of snow and puddles. Your fur muff shrouds your hands as you walk briskly to the entrance of a confectionery shop. Evergreen boughs hang festively over the windows and the scent of licorice, violet, and cinnamon candies fills the air. Caramel apples and squares of toffee fill a glass display case. The handsome shopkeeper drifts by you on his way to help another customer and you faintly smell his cologne, which reminds you of fir trees in the snow and freshly mucked out horse stalls on an old country estate, but not unpleasantly so. A curl falls down from where it was pinned beneath your hat and you catch the lingering scent of your own rose and jasmine soap. You subtly sniff the collar of your wool coat and catch the faint reminder of holy incense from mass, two nights before. The shopkeeper pauses and glances back at you curiously, your eyes locking. This is what Memoir Woman evoked in my mind. It's interesting because at first sniff last night, I liked it, but didn't love it. It was a strong scent that smelled more detectably of artificial (and expensive) perfume than I typically like. But today, I went for a New Year's Day walk and kept sniffing my wrists in the cold January air. And suddenly this scene flooded into my mind. I think I love it now, might need to get myself a full bottle. Like my fantasy alludes to, there is something fairly stinky about this to me. The musk note comes through quite strongly on the dry down, at least on me - but I actually find that this beautifully balances the almost sharply sweet notes that immediately come through, and it all mingles in this smoky, sensual way that becomes truly intoxicating. I can see where others have described it as ethereal, because that incense note evokes a Catholic cathedral full of stained glass and saints. A gorgeous scent all around.