MEM

What an incredibly interesting critique of chypres, lavender and decay MEM is. I think it is incorrect to associate this fragrance with vintage perfumery, for to me this fragrance exudes an approach that is nothing if not earnestly modern. When thinking about MEM, I am hard pressed to consider it except as an animallic chypre which has, interestingly enough, replaced it's centerfold icon with that of lavender - the fougere's classic note. What makes this even more interesting, is Antonio Gardoni's focus and theoretical approach to decay, or the fine line which separates that of an over-ripe note, and it's loss of pure character to the maniacal grip of rot. Gardoni uses a lot of contrasts to illustrate his treatise on lavender, and in ways through which those approaching this perfume won't expect - even from having read the note breakdown. For instance, there is citrus for certain at work here - the sour elements of grapefruit (those that are occasionally called 'body oder'ish) joins with the pretty, powdery and bitter petitgrain to create an unsettling accord straddling sour/bitter divide- yet simultaneously, the mandarin orange here is working very hard to unite as a middle term: fresh, juicy, and endlessly refined. More immediately, however, is the totalizing effect of the four different dimensions that the lavender takes on - this is the muscular organism surrounding the skeletal structure of animalics hard at work here - the civet and castoreum are putting in overtime - always there is a chewy, slightly urinous and infinitely musky tinge which unites the otherwise realistic and intense animallic accords with the herbal and truly heavy lavender that constantly draw the mind of the wearer to opposite ends of the fragrance spectrum. And yet - even the elements that seem the most straightforward are contrasted in ways designed to, like a lot of modern arthouse films, put you at peace with that which seems to be antagonistic to 'haute' taste itself, and yet simultaneously cause you to investigate the elements of fragrances that do genuinely draw the most 'immediate' loves throughout time - the floral top for instance which is joyously booming with bright and sweet notes of ylang-ylang, champaca and a wonderfully lush damask rose paired with a bourbon geranium that only enhances the lush and leafy character of the rose is contrasted with cool and crisp mint, a slightly fruity yet still densely herbal and spicy laurels and a flat beer accord coming from the malt. This of course is a reflection of the constant series of contrasts at the core of this fragrance - somewhere between decay, fermentation, and rot - in the notion of that which is stale and still, rather than necessarily aggressive and hostile (there is no notion of death present here.) Even as the fragrance dies down, with some of the custard, coffee and jammy elements coming from the top to meet with the chewy siam benzoin and smoky/creamy elements coming from the labdanum, amber,vanilla - the animallic notes come back out to play here, and are just as intense and interesting as they were during the start of this elaborate performance, only now they take on entirely different expressions - paired with these balsamic/sweet underpinnings, they now also have a strong woody character coming from the palisander rosewood and the himalayan cedar - although the transition doesn't feel jarring at all - the creamy sandalwood pairs well here with the benzoin and the labdanum as a transitional series of notes that explode with just as much interesting character as one finds at the start of this fragrance. Overall, loving one fragrance from this house does not entail that you will love any other by necessity - this house is one which takes the core notion of theory and love of art in-and-for-itself as its highest virtue, and if you are ready and willing to continue down this road after smelling any of the other magnum opus fragrances from this house, MEM is certainly a wonderful place to progress towards. A very challenging fragrance to rate, but ultimately I have to give it a lower score due to the fact that I spend more time analyzing than I do enjoying this one - but don't let that mislead you - MEM is absolutely astounding - my personal preference might not be at this point just yet, but I certainly could find myself absolutely needing a bottle of this genius work down the line. 9/10. YT: Jess AndWesH

Alright, buckle up, because MEM isn’t just a fragrance—it’s a full-on olfactory uppercut that leaves you reeling in the best way possible. This isn’t some timid spritz for the faint of heart; it’s a ballsy, genre-defying beast that laughs in the face of conventional perfumery while sipping a double espresso and flipping through a leather-bound book of poetry, so let’s dive into why MEM is the kind of scent that could make a grizzly bear pause and say, “Hold up, I need to smell that again.” From the first blast, MEM comes at you like a citrusy haymaker—petitgrain, mandarin, and grapefruit don’t just whisper “hello”; they kick the door down with a zesty, green swagger that’s equal parts invigorating and mischievous. It’s like biting into a grapefruit that’s been dunked in a vat of herbaceous sunshine. But don’t get comfy, because the star of the show—lavender, in four different species, no less—struts in like a rockstar with a PhD in botany. This isn’t your grandma’s lavender sachet; it’s a complex, multifaceted lavender symphony that’s earthy, floral, and just a touch feral, like a Provençal field after a thunderstorm. Then, the florals crash the party, and oh, what a crew. Ylang ylang, lily of the valley, white champaca, jasmine grandiflorum, rose damascena, and bourbon geranium don’t just blend—they brawl, each vying for the spotlight while somehow harmonizing into a lush, heavily malted, fermented floral core that’s as intoxicating as a moonlit garden orgy. It’s rich, it’s creamy, it’s got that slightly boozy, honeyed and almost “rotten” depth that makes you want to bury your face in it and never come up for air. Gardoni’s genius here is balancing this floral opulence with a green, herbaceous backbone—peppermint and laurel keep things sharp, like a mint julep served with a side of swagger. But wait, here comes the base, and it’s where MEM goes from great to “holy hell, what is this sorcery?” Vanilla, Siam benzoin, sandalwood, Himalayan cedarwood, labdanum, ambergris, musk, castoreum, civet, and amber don’t just anchor the scent—they build a cathedral of warmth and animalic depth that’s both primal and polished. And eternal! The ambergris and civet give it a salty, skin-like edge that’s downright seductive, while the castoreum adds a leathery growl that says, “I’m not here to play nice.” It’s like the olfactory equivalent of a velvet smoking jacket worn over a biker’s leather vest—sophisticated, but with a dangerous streak. The fougère structure is there, sure, but Gardoni takes that classic barbershop vibe, douses it in absinthe, and sets it loose in a fetid jungle. It’s green, it’s herbaceous, it’s floral, it’s ambery, and somehow, it’s all of these things without ever feeling like it’s trying too hard. The malted quality? Spot-on. There’s a roasted, fermented, almost whisky-like warmth that weaves through the composition, making MEM feel like a memory you didn’t know you had—like stumbling across a forgotten bottle of vintage booze in a dusty attic filled with dank damp wildflowers. In a world of cookie-cutter fragrances, MEM is a middle finger to mediocrity. It’s bold, it’s complex, it’s a shape-shifter that evolves on your skin like a living, breathing story. Wear it when you want to feel like a poet, a pirate, and a philosopher all at once. Gardoni didn’t just create a scent; he bottled a vibe, and it’s one hell of a masterpiece. If this doesn’t make you want to strut through life with a smirk, nothing will.

Why not switching today to the most masculine of flowers? Yet, if we believe in rumours that want Aime Guerlain to name its masterpiece - Jicky, a caterpillar of contemporary perfumery - after an English student whose biological sex was female, then we may want to reconsider lavender as an encoded femenine note: IF, we believe in the rumors (who knows if that student was GENDERED as female, regardless of biology...) I see MEM as an homage to Jicky with some interpolations borrowed from Mitsouko. MEM is a study on lavender; its varietals are not only of a higher caliber and quality, but they have also been subjected to a different sort of distillation process than basic lavenders in order to bring out their less common facets. The result is quite unexpected with aromas that are simultaneously green, floral, green-white floral, sappy, sometimes even fruity, occasionally piney, herbaceous, medicinal, and with rather indescribable aromatics that feel wholly naturalistic. MEM opens with the refreshingly zinginess of yellow grapefruit with its crisp juices fused with the incredibly aromatic oil from its bitter rind. It falls atop a patchwork quilt of vetiver that smells like the freshest grass, newly mowed to release every ounce of its crisp scent, and lavender. The latter defies easy description. It smells like: aromatic freshness, lavender ice cream, green fruitiness, herbaceous greenness, bitter green sap, and crushed green stems. At times, there is something medicinal about it, but it’s in an oddly fruity, sweet-sour, citrusy and earthy way. Layered within the lavender, there is even a white-green floralcy that, somehow, inexplicably, bears ghostly hints of “tuberose.” Buried deeper within it is a milkiness that is simultaneously grassy, floral, aldehydic, and coconuty, almost gardenia like. There is some caramelized sugar to cover the lavender creating a suggestion of fruitness and of lavender icecream. When the indial sandalwood starts to emerge, I get a wheat note that combined with some oranges reminds me of a hoppy bber accord: a stunner. The lavender paves the way to a floral bouquet of rose, jasmine, ylang, and champaca whose sweetness is contrasted by the sour notes stemming from beeswax and a gasoline and rubber accord. Musks, salt from ambergris, incense, castoreum, and a hint of civet complete this masterpiece. IG @alexolympia6

Before sampling the works of Antonio Gardoni, I feared that it would fall into the realm of indie perfume that reminds me of a quote from Chandler Burr's The Perfect Scent where he speaks of Veronique Gaultier: "She understood, as some did not, that one could stuff a perfume like a sausage with the most expensive ingredients in the world and wind up with carefully macerated shit that cost a fortune. What mattered was the way the thing was built." I've experienced my share of the above, from upstarts who have little insight or regard to the mathematics involved in blending materials, putting artistry ahead of true skill. I can appreciate "outsider artists" in other media, but in perfume, it's a tough call, since there is something so exact about its science. However, Gardoni is one of the few indies that both pushes the experimental envelope and has grasped the necessary ropes for a cohesive composition. The results are compelling works that visit new frontiers but still have their foundations rooted in classical perfumery. In Mem, there are textures and oblique images that defy the expectations of the materials used. The lavenders betray their usual politeness as they arrest me in its opening, and the unctuous of ylang-ylang and malted Whopper tropical florals counteract with accents of cineoles, camphors, and menthols. I am satiated by the medicinal, the narcotic, and the animalic in all acts of Mem. Sarsaparilla and wintergreen washed over salty skin, honeyed farm animal hindquarters and hay bales and phragmites, weeds and reeds and ripe, sweaty, heaving blooms. Smoky, fur-lined gardenia and decaying roses on a nightstand by a bed with dirty, sex-soaked sheets. Mem is an adventure and a thrill to wear.

Here we are, delving into my first review of an Antonio Gardoni’s creation. It took some time for me to decide to put my thoughts “on paper”, but today, as I revisited MEM by Bogue after several months, the memory of why I bought it and why I adore it flooded back (as is the case with all of Antonio Gardoni’s creations). Before “tailoring a suit” for MEM, it is crucial, as echoed by other voices with similar sentiments, to emphasize that crafting a review merely regurgitating the list of notes from official descriptions or platforms like Fragrantica is not only futile but also detrimental to the essence of the perfume in question. It’s one thing to discern the nuances of an accord; it’s quite another to mindlessly repeat without interpretation. With this vital clarification in mind and leaving the copy/paste realm to others, let’s dive into MEM. The allure of this fragrance resides in its embrace: the profound sense of joy and protection that emanates from the very first spritz. While lavender might not be overtly apparent due to its manifestation in an almost medicinal herbal amalgamation, what undeniably surfaces is the protective aura enveloping you from behind. It’s akin to someone surprising you with a hug from the shoulders, only to gracefully encircle you, concluding the embrace from the front, where a warm, deep musk smiles at you, cradling your head in its hands. A whirlwind of freshness and luminosity unfolds between the initial and final embrace, offering no hints of the subsequent evolution. MEM is a GEM: one that engulfs you, never leaving you in solitude; a fragrance that reveals nothing yet earns your complete trust.