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| Photo by inkknife_2000 |
It would be futile to attempt a long and detailed description of MEM, as others have done elsewhere. Instead, I will provide a basic testimony, and allow you to interpret Antonio Gardoni's creation on your own. As an amateur fragrance writer, I lack the skill necessary to do it justice. Its notes flicker like fireflies in the bleak pitch of understanding, providing a mere glimpse of the transcendent and elusive nature of great perfumery.
MEM is a floral fougère, front-loaded with lavender. Many layers of lavender. These consist mostly of bitter French distillate, interspersed with sweet English. They're elemental but expansive, and speak to the gloriously aromatic facets of the flower. There are supposedly five kinds of lavender in this opening phase, and it smells so intense that I hallucinate other things, phantom flowers and herbs that loop in and out of perception, always returning to the familiar Lavandula. As time passes, the scent of jasmine sambac absolute merges with the creamy, almost-coconut aroma of aldehyde C18, and together they fuse with the spicy presence of sandalwood, creating a well-defined and sturdy accord. White floral notes are plentiful, almost overwhelming in their dynamism, with lucid orange blossom and sweet osmanthus vying for attention behind a purple veil. The heart of this fragrance is, to my nose at least, a white and yellow floral bouquet.
There are moments of indolic blossoms, brief bursts of fruity sweetness, natural warmth, and freshness in abundance. At no point does MEM come across as a synthetic parody of itself. It maintains its playful hum for hours, exuding a carnal beauty that few would expect from a simple bottle with a soft rubber cap. It evokes the feel of an erotic encounter in a lavender field, a farmer's daydream bottled up and ready to go. Majestic stuff.