According to the company website, Amouage's Middle Eastern-inspired perfumes are now crafted in Grasse under the direction of Christopher Chong. Is Grasse where Amouage ended up, or has it always been based there? I lean toward believing the brand's official history, which claims that Sultan Qaboos bin Said of Oman approved the perfumery project in 1983 as a nationalist endeavor—presumably to showcase the country's exotic olfactory treasures. While some might question the legitimacy of once again linking royalty to niche fragrances, a glance at the Sultan's biography tells a different story. He was educated in elite English institutions and even joined the Queen's Royal Infantry battalion. It’s not hard to imagine that he blended his understanding of European luxury with his homeland’s deep-rooted traditions of incense, rose absolutes, and spices.
That said, he didn’t create the perfumes himself—Guy Robert was behind the first. It’s said that Amouage Gold was once the world’s most expensive perfume, and given its quality, along with that of every fragrance from this house, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was true. These fragrances smell exceptional, yet there’s an oddness to them. This strangeness originates with Gold Man, which smells like a powdery, Scandinavian-inspired barbershop, far removed from the mysticism of the desert. Memoir Man, too, doesn’t strike me as particularly Omani, though I admit I’m no expert on Oman. Memoir smells more like one of those classic American fougères or chypres from the seventies, eighties, or nineties, the kind that were loaded with crisp minty herbs, aromatic tobacco, robust artemisia, cedar (reminiscent of Balenciaga Pour Homme or Venezia Uomo), and precious woods, all rounded off with a bold twist of musk and ambergris.
The ambergris is subtle, tucked behind a silvery veil of frankincense. It smells natural, but then again, so does everything in Memoir’s composition. This fragrance is a nod to the French tradition of woody ferns atop earthy sandalwood and moss bases, and it’s easy to forget that it was launched in 2010. Karine Vinchon Spehner, who also crafted Interlude Woman and Opus III, seems to have a deep affinity for wormwood, as the artemisia note in Memoir is beautifully rendered. Framing it with lavender, spearmint, basil, vanilla, vetiver, and carnation enhances its freshness while maintaining its piney sharpness without ever veering into Yatagan territory. Its structure is familiar to me from a handful of inexpensive designer scents, but that also works against it, and it doesn’t feel like something I really need to own. On principle, I won’t spend a fortune on a fragrance that, when broken down, resembles pieces of Balenciaga, Venezia, Yatagan, and even Tsar or Zino.
Yes, Memoir is made with high-quality natural ingredients and feels rich—the way its oily sheen clings to skin suggests a high concentration of premium, viscous essences. Amouage delivers a three-dimensional depth and realism that I don’t experience from brands like Malle or Lutens. Still, I notice a similar richness when I wear Venezia Uomo, and in my view, the quality between Venezia and Memoir is comparable. If you love woody fragrances, Memoir Man is worth trying. Even if you don’t plan to buy it, you’ll appreciate its classic structure, crafted with incredible skill and the finest materials. Wearing it is a nostalgic experience; if you're like me, it might send you sifting through your collection of vintage scents to find at least one that shares its charm, if not its lofty price tag.