AMOUAGE LYRIC FOR MEN: Amouage takes its Middle Eastern attar origins seriously and comes out with yet another Westernized, woodsy, spicy rose that could just as easily be worn by women.
Listed notes include bergamot, lime, rose, angelica, orange blossom, galbanum, ginger, nutmeg, saffron, pine, sandalwood, vanilla, musk and frankincense. As with all Amouage fragrances, the blending is excellent, resulting in a rounded, smooth concoction that plays itself out with subtle variations on the overriding theme — in other words, it’s fairly linear, which means that consumers who look for distinct top, middle and bottom notes might find it a slightly dull wearing experience.
Lyric for Men is not a light fragrance, nor is it overly heavy, though it does tilt far enough to the smoky musk side to justify its “For Men” moniker; however, I still much prefer Clive Christian No. 1 for Men as far as masculine florals are concerned.
ANNICK GOUTAL AMBRE FETICHE: Despite my oft-repeated distaste for amber fragrances, Annick Goutal’s Ambre Fetiche (part of her Les Orientalistes series — I reviewed Encens Flamboyant yesterday) is an amber I can respect, and perhaps even enjoy.
Ambre Fetiche is not overly heavy on the vanilla syrup; instead, there’s a liberal dose of incense resins which lend it a Middle Eastern, spicy quality. A leathery (styrax?) note enters the picture an hour or so into the thing, darkening the pitch and smoking up the joint while an earthy, powdered iris root blows kisses from off-stage.
Risa at Perfumista Dot Org writes: “It is a sweet amber without syrup on me, indulgent without being decadent, comforting without being cozy.” I think she’s saying that Ambre Fetiche is an amber with balance, which is a rare find these days.
It also lasts a good long time on the skin, easily outlasting the other three scents I’m reviewing today.
I had personally greeted the announcement of Annick Goutal’s Les Orientalistes series with indifference, but after testing out the readily wearable Encens Flamboyant and now the smoky Ambre Fetiche, I think I might have to revise my attitude.
ARMANI PRIVE ORANGE ALLAMBRA: Bright orange peel, soft woods, then poof! it’s gone. A pleasant citrus based fragrance, but so understated and short-lived as to be nearly useless.
STRANGE INVISIBLE PERFUMES MOON GARDEN: This is my first encounter with the Strange Invisible Perfumes line, and I’m thinking that Moon Garden was a decent choice as an introductory foot in the door.
Because of its jasmine and tuberose mix, I braced myself for the unusual and that’s exactly what I got. Others have criticized Moon Garden for smelling acidic and gasoline-like, but I get a more vegetal opening layered with a fleshy jasmine scent that slowly (over the course of several hours) morphs into a soft, sweet floral with a halo of bitter greens. This is then followed by a cool, earthy, skin-musk phase that wraps up the production before taking its final bow.
Strange, indeed, as well as intriguing, but if it had ended on that green, vanillac, floral note, I might have offered an unequivocal thumbs up. The sudden veer into musk land at the finish, however, was a little too dramatic for my taste, and I think it might ultimately disappoint wearers who are looking for something more along the lines of overtly shimmering moonlight and shadowy beauty . . . though gosh darn it, it does exhibit flashes of that, too!
A hesitant thumbs up, then . . .
{ 15 comments }
I have Ambre Fetiche and Encens Flamboyant, as well as Aomassai. I was totally put off by Moon Garden, preferring Magazine Street, if only I could remove that strident first 1/2 hour of lavender screeching in my face. Orange Alhambra was of course a complete waste of time.
Moon Garden was definitely odd. It stayed unpleasant for longer than was necessary, but I actually kind of liked what it tried to do through its middle phase and into the end. I don’t think it fully accomplished its mission, and I won’t be buying a bottle, but at least it showed some ambition.
Orange Alhambra was just plain laziness in a bottle.
I still can’t quite wrap my brain around Aomassai. Perhaps you can explain it to me?
Hi, Nathan and Tara! After buying Encens Flamboyant yesterday, Ambre Fétiche is next on my list asap. AF is as described above. What I noticed from testing it is it’s one of those “second-skin” perfumes that just seems to envelop the wearer like an aura. Several years back I read “The History of My Life,” the autobiography of Giacomo Casanova. He was a lot more than the sex-fiend he’s made out to be and one thing was that he enjoyed perfume. Now Casanova commented strongly that he did not like amber perfume. Yesterday while in The Bay smelling Ambre Fétiche, I couldn’t help thinking of Casanova and in my mind telling him “…but I’m sure you would like this one!”
Now THAT’S what I would call an endorsement: “Annick Goutal Ambre Fetiche — just one more beauty for Casanova to love!”
Aomassai… now that’s a strange one. It reminds me of the caramel popcorn balls one of my neighbors would hand out to the kids on Halloween back in the 60′s. It’s kind of a nostalgic thing I guess…I received it as a gift in a swap, and I don’t wear it often, but I enjoy it.
Wow. Caramel Popcorn Ball is EXACTLY what I smelled when I wore it — and while I like the smell of caramel popcorn balls (and we sometimes got them in our bags on Halloween, too, when people still handed out homemade items without fear of litigation), I don’t want to smell like one.
I guess it’s how some people feel about black licorice. I don’t mind wearing the smell of anise, while others vehemently object.
I’ve been wearing Lyric Woman for two days – have you tried it? And am having the oddest reaction to it. I don’t get rose out of it at all, but it is an utterly beautiful scent, from first spray to last molecule, it lasts forever – 7:30 in the morning to midnight there was still noticeable presence. It’s a sandalwood and cinnamon oriental and so full and good to breathe in that you could never call it dull. But the whole time I have had it on I just keep thinking, this scent is too respectable for me. It has got not one tiny speck of anything fleshly in it. Not one. This is the same reaction I had to Shalini – utterly gorgeous but not human. Though actually I like Lyric more than I liked Shalini. I should try that again though, it was an early sample. Six whole months ago. So interesting…..
I have tried Lyric for Women, and it’s waaaaaaay better than Lyric for Men — but exactly as you describe it: utterly beautiful, almost too much so, but I certainly wouldn’t begrudge anyone wearing it any damn time they please.
And Shalini? Love! Love Love Love! That stuff is uh-maze-ing. Again, I wouldn’t stand in the way of a cloud of Shalini at the supermarket.
Sometimes I think we’re less committed to outright, utterly respectable beauty than we should be. Go on, douse yourself in Lyric for Women and go run some errands! Just imagine the sparkling loveliness you would bring into the lives of everyone waiting behind you in line at the post office . . .
So really, its a public service…
Moe and more I am trying to wear things for at least two days before I make up my mind about them. There are things I have found so vile I did scrub them after a few hours – an act of cowardice, I know. But if I get to the point that no dry down could ever be enough compensation for my desire to amputate the opening, I move on. If I find something interesting enough to think about at all, 2 or 3 days is a rewarding visit.
Lyric Woman day 3…I might have to buy this. Or in today’s economy, at least a large decant.
It’s gotten deeper and a hair darker as we’ve gotten better acquainted.
You know, if we take the public service approach, we could probably write off any perfume related expenses come tax time . . . better yet, we could establish a non-profit organization and hold fundraisers!
Wearing Shalini again. Nothing. A sheer, pretty, de-fleshed tuberose of no distinguishing character. My skin chemistry must just eat this – could also explain why I don’t think Fracas is a monster scent.
Weird.
Maybe that happens with a lot of people, because I’ve often wondered why Shalini doesn’t get the love I think it deserves — to me, it was pretty darn stunning, and it was the musk in the base that made it so.
I won’t go all perfume-blog cliche with the “Maybe you’re anosmic?” thing, because it really tussles my crankshaft when anosmia (which is allegedly a RARE occurrence yet appears to be at the source of everything from world poverty and improperly poached eggs to not “getting” the latest Cartier edp), so I’ll just say that perhaps we experience Shalini in different ways.
You smell tomato, I smell to-mah-to . . .
Well, I know I can smell some musks, because the white ones make me want to rip my nose off mostly…but we are clearly smelling different things. I WISH I could smell what you do……
After 4 or 5 hours it opened up considerably and got much more beautiful – almost buttery/nutty? – but in a very low key, well mannered way.
I shall have to do a musk series of experiments….
Maybe that happens with a lot of people, because I’ve often wondered why Shalini doesn’t get the love I think it deserves — to me, it was pretty darn stunning, and it was the musk in the base that made it so.
I won’t go all perfume-blog cliche with the “Maybe you’re anosmic?” thing, because it really tussles my crankshaft when anosmia (which is allegedly a RARE occurrence yet appears to be at the source of everything from world poverty and improperly poached eggs to not “getting” the latest Cartier edp), so I’ll just say that perhaps we experience Shalini in different ways.
You smell tomato, I smell to-mah-to . . .
Maybe that happens with a lot of people, because I’ve often wondered why Shalini doesn’t get the love I think it deserves — to me, it was pretty darn stunning, and it was the musk in the base that made it so.
I won’t go all perfume-blog cliche with the “Maybe you’re anosmic?” thing, because it really tussles my crankshaft when anosmia (which is allegedly a RARE occurrence yet appears to be at the source of everything from world poverty and improperly poached eggs to not “getting” the latest Cartier edp), so I’ll just say that perhaps we experience Shalini in different ways.
You smell tomato, I smell to-mah-to . . .