Bogue MEM

Close your eyes and imagine, if you will, floating and being engulfed in a cloud that glows with pearlescent luster like opals mixed with mother-of-pearl. Unlike most clouds, this one hovers low on the ground, a few feet above the swaying tips of a field of lavender, some in bloom, some tightly budded and tipped with green. They ripple in the warm summer’s wind, a wind that carries the scent of the orchard mere inches away where orange and grapefruit trees grow like citrus sentinels watching over the aromatic field of purple. With every gust, the branches shake their flowers in a shower of white petals, their scent mingling in the air with that of the lavender. The trees hang heavy with fruits that are fresh, bright, and only recently ripened; the juices which seep out from time to time are sweet, but not sticky or jammy, and they, too, join the scented swirl within the opalescent cloud.

Photo: my own edited, altered collage from Zedge wallpaper.

On the other side of the lavender is a river. Its banks are emerald with grassy vetiver, red with rose bushes, and white with jasmine that drips a golden honeyed nectar, but its waters are swirls of brown from malted beer and caramel from ambered resins. A small nook of cedar and spicy sandalwood trees lies just beyond, their roots growing amidst more grass, vetiver, and lavender.

The cloud hovers above it all, absorbing every inch and whiff of this dream landscape within the weightless structure that cocoons your body and surrounds your senses. Strong notes vie with alchemical technical transformations to create a bevy of olfactory phantasms that are simultaneously there and that are not, both real and illusory, but all of them work together to create a scent that is more than its individual parts, a scent that I find a lot of the times to be more atmospheric than actual “perfume.”

MEM via the Bogue website.

MEM by Antonio Gardoni of Bogue Perfumes is an unusual fragrance as a result. When I wear it, it is frequently more of a feel and an experience than a set of concrete notes. This is true whether I sniff MEM during its first two hours which hold the greatest complexity and, therefore, the greatest magic for me, or during its less detailed, complex later stages when the scent often turns wholly abstract, a hazy impressionistic tableau of nature created through tiny, almost invisible brush strokes of the perfumer’s palette, like Monet in his later years painting Giverny or Turner trying to capture the essence of light.

From a review perspective, this makes MEM a difficult fragrance to analyse in my usual way because it’s so fluid and doesn’t have a concrete, distinct, and tripartite pyramid structure that develops with any consistency. The story I’ve told up above conveys one aspect of things, but it’s not the only one because MEM is a shape-shifter. I shall do my best to analyse more specifics and its development down below, but much of the first quarter of this review will be spent discussing MEM’s notes, parts, and feel, as well as Mr. Gardoni’s technique in creating such an olfactory dream scape.


MEM is an eau de parfum that was released at the end of May. There is no description for it on the Bogue website, but Luckyscent has the official note list:

Petitgrain, mandarin, grapefruit, lavender (4 different species), ylang ylang, lily of the valley, white champaca, jasmine grandiflorum, rose damascena, bourbon geranium, vanilla, peppermint, laurel, Siam benzoin, rosewood, sandalwood, Himalayan cedarwood, labdanum, ambergris, musk, castoreum, civet, amber.

Dried Lavandin, or Provence Lavender, in horrifyingly super-sized sachets! Photo: my own.

I think that there may actually be 5 types of lavender in MEM, but the critical thing to know is that these are apparently rather unusual or different varietals that have each been subjected to different types of distillation methods in order to extract very unusual facets that one doesn’t normally find with the typical lavender oils. I think they’re fantastic — and I say that as someone who has had a strong lavender phobia and hatred since childhood. I spent a part of it in Cannes, which is close to Grasse with its endless lavender fields, resulting in awful Provencal lavender sachets assaulting one’s nostrils from every nook and cranny in the area, wafting their dried, abrasive, pungent harshness and granny-like dustiness. But I’m not the only lavender hater, I know a number of my readers are, too, so let me say that, on my skin, MEM’s varietals don’t smell like the fusty, musty, heavily medicinal sort that may have put you off as well. According to Roja Dove‘s book, The Essence of Perfume, the horrifying type found in Provence or other parts of the Mediterranean is frequently Lavender intermedia, also known as Lavandin, or “Bastard Lavender,” the latter being a completely suitable name, in my biased opinion, for its vileness.

MEM’s lavender 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, in my opinion, and on my skin, with aromas that are simultaneously green, floral, green-white floral, sappy, sometimes even fruity, occasionally piney, and with rather indescribable aromatics that feel wholly naturalistic, like the accumulation of aromas from the great outdoors.

This brings me to the important issue of how MEM was before, in an earlier “mod” that went out to quite a few Bogue fans back in March or April. Mr. Gardoni is always very generous in sharing his creative process with his audience, even if it’s midway through the developmental process, and he kindly sent me and several other people I know a “mod” (a perfumer’s term for “modification” or version) for MEM at that time. Some of you reading this review now may well have tried that version, so I think it’s critical to explain that the final version of MEM, the one sold now in stores, doesn’t smell at all like what I tried back in March or April. Mr. Gardoni has kindly given me permission to talk about the mod and the changes in this review.

Source: stock photo.

The long story short is that I was not… enthused… about MEM as it was then, but I love this finalized version. To me, and on my skin, the April “mod” was primarily a gourmand and a fruity floral over an animalic and highly synthetic woody-leather base. A veritable geyser of excessively gooey ethyl maltol caramel and burnt sugar burst out right from the very start, next to equally forceful accords of pink bubblegum, goopy grape-scented jasmine, decayed fruits macerating in boozy malt, and a positively thick slab of red-berried fruity molasses and sticky orange marmalade, all layered over an intense base of leathery, wood-smoke blackness, ISO E, sour civety urinousness, muskiness, and chypre-ish vetiver mossiness. One friend of mine who tried the April Mod told me he found it smelt a lot like Parfumerie Generale‘s hyper sweet, fruity leather scent, Cuir Venenum, which should tell you something about just how different MEM’s feel and fragrance profile was back then as compared to the story I’ve recounted at the start of this post.


The one thing that I did love about the April version was the multi-faceted lavender accord with all of its ghostly whiffs of non-lavendery things. And I was simply transfixed by how it combined with the green elements to somehow, magically, alchemically, recreate the illusion of other things — like tuberose’s liquidy, green white floralcy or gardenia’s cream-coated petals — even though there actually was no gardenia or tuberose in MEM, not then, not now. Not one drop. When Mr. Gardoni told me that these ghosts stemmed from the 5 types of lavender combined with the other notes (like, for example, vetiver, hexenal, and milky, coconuty aldehyde C18), I was astonished.

Those wonderful ghosts remain in MEM’s finalized version, but, on my skin, I find that every part of the April formula has been altered. Some of the previously bombastic accords have been cut in terms of quantity or heavily weakened, while others (like, for example, the 5 lavenders) have been heightened. In the case of the ISO E (which shot up my nose like piercing needles and eventually gave me temporary hyposmia to parts of the scent), it’s been removed entirely. All of MEM’s proportions feel tweaked to me, both individually and in relative ratio to each other. On my skin and in my opinion, the cumulative effect is different in scent, balance, weight, and vibe, and the improvements are apparent from the very first sniff.

Mr. Gardoni told me that the final fragrance actually contains 86 ingredients, and that he applied a technique of “micro-balancing mini quantities of almost ‘invisible’ elements” to create notes, “ghosts,” and suggestions that are “hard to pin down.” To me, this not only sums up and explains (the final) MEM’s character, but it also explains why I find it so beautiful. In the old days of perfumery, fragrances typically had note lists with 25, 30, or more elements, not the 5 or 6 that you see with some Montale, MFK, or Jean-Claude Ellena creations. The old legends brimmed with nuance, layers, and depth, frequently resulting in an olfactory experience that flowed fluidly in kaleidoscopic fashion, revealing tiny new facets with every wearing, changing its shape and feel from one moment to the next, but all of it dancing on the wind with endless complexity. The finalized MEM is similar, except it has so many “almost ‘invisible’ elements” that it’s much harder to pin down than some of the old Guerlains or Diors ever were, and it’s more of an emotive, atmospheric experience than a conventional set of notes.

I’ll do my best to describe MEM and its development on my skin, but please keep in mind that this fragrance is not only a will o’ the wisp but also a shape-shifter on me, particularly during its middle and late phases. Thankfully, its first 90 minutes are the most concrete, the easiest to parse, and the most consistent, so let’s give this a try.


MEM typically opens on my skin with the refreshingly zinginess of yellow grapefruit that is bursting out its skin, its crisp juices fused with the incredibly aromatic oil from its bitter rind. They fall 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. (I’m not sure if those aromas actually stem from something beyond the lavender, as you will see further down below.) 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 coconut-y. When combined with everything else, the floral “milk” somehow manages an alchemical trick of mimicking some of gardenia’s facets on my skin, although it is merely the tiniest elusive whisper that pops up only to dart away out of reach.

Blue Moon, Belgian citrus wheat ale. Photo:

This is only the start. Sweet and bitter oranges appear and, like the grapefruit, show off their various facets, from the bitter fragrancy of their freshly grated rinds to their summer juices. A few of the oranges have been peeled, their skins lightly caramelized with sugar (ethyl maltol), while others have been fermented and macerated within a surprisingly hoppy and grassy beer-like accord. Imagine, for example, one of the Belgian ales or IPAs which have orange and/or grapefruit added in, and you’d have an idea of what I mean.

However, and I cannot repeat this enough, on my skin, none of MEM’s parts are blatant, in your face, and permanent, and everything is folded into a larger picture, whether it is malty beer with its hops or the white florals and the zingy brightness of yellow grapefruit. When one of MEM’s parts reveals itself, it’s usually for a limited time and when I sniff my arm up close.

Even then, many of these accords tend to flit about, dancing in the wind, one moment here, the next darting away to let another element ripple in the air. So, while the vetiver’s crisp grasses sway in the wind, tiny puffs of wood smoke appear on the horizon, smelling mostly of cedar but, once in a blue moon, if I really concentrate, also bearing the spicier, warmer qualities of sandalwood. Somewhere, just out of sight and smell, there are tantalizing whispers, mere suggestions in the weightless cloud that envelops you: jasmine that seeps a honey-like goldenness; roses wafting lemony and jammy berries; a rosy but piquant and leafy geranium; a pinch of benzoin caramel praline, and a sliver of dark leather.

Photo: Natalia Vodianova by Mario Testino for Vanity Fair. Source: Vanity Fair.

Roughly 10 minutes in, the citrus brigade begins to ebb away, at least momentarily, its zing and bracing crispness giving way to a stronger floralcy. There is the bridal romanticism of fresh, clean, jasmine grandiflorum absolute trailed by the fruitier and honeyed refrains of jasmine sambac absolute, both tied together by a subtle creaminess that may be a drop of ylang doused in the milky aldehyde C18. The malty, hoppy “beer” disappears, replaced by a naturalistic cleanness and freshness that I simply lack the words to describe. It’s more than any mere side effect from the lavenders, the grasses, or the aldehyde; it’s like an invisible sensory accumulation, all the atmospheric notes that you encounter upon a garden walk.

I give up trying to describe the rest of the incredibly complex opening bouquet on my skin. Mr. Gardoni’s 86 ingredients are like the daintiest of brushstrokes, sometimes invisible to the naked eye (or nose), and perceptible only in terms of their larger feel and indirect impact. MEM’s utterly gorgeous first 90 minutes are dancing sunbeams mixed with dancing moon beams, will o’ the wisps, and spirits of the meadow, each taking turns to dart up to you, wrap their vapors around your body, and brush your cheek with butterfly kisses before darting away.

Photo, “Danaus (the butterfly queen)” by the brilliant Kirsty Mitchell from her “Wonderland” book. (Direct link to Kirsty Mitchell Photography embedded within.)

Beautiful scented ghosts call from the shadows, tantalizing your imagination but lying just out of finger’s reach, making you wonder if you really heard or smelled them properly, or if they were a trick of the mind. Everything ripples and weaves in the air, opalescent, shimmering vapors whose greatest gift is in how they make you feel as a whole, a beautiful serenity that cloaks you, energizes you, soothes you, and ultimately, simply feels like a part of you, a natural second-skin, albeit one with a certain je ne sais quoi refinement.


Not everything works for me all the time, because some notes or accords are harder than others due to personal taste issues. For example, when the aldehydes take their turn on center stage after the 90-minute mark, I’m not crazy about how they flatten all the interesting bits and pieces, rendering the bouquet into an unexpected blur. It’s too far clean for me, and it’s also too abstract as well. The aldehydes lie like a thick blanket of whiteness atop everything, obscuring their character.

As best as I can determine from what’s under that blanket, MEM is now woodier, bears an indeterminate floralcy and greenness, and has only the merest touch of fruitiness. Most of the time, MEM simply smells like aldehyde-suffused grasses mixed with woodiness that is vaguely cedar-ish. While the aldehydes are not soapy, per se, they are much too much like clean white musk for my personal tastes. That said, even if this stage is not my favourite, there are some moderately appealing aspects to the bouquet when I sniff the soft vapors from a distance instead of close up. There is a naturalistic cleanliness to the scent that makes me feel not as though I’m wearing perfume but, rather, a crisp white cotton shirt and clean clothes which simply happen to have blades of grass all over them.

Photo: my own.

MEM never stays in one place for long on my skin. Roughly 2.75 hours in, the orange blossoms and grapefruit reappear, joining the soft abstract woods as a layer within the aldehydic and grassy cloud. In the base, caramel-tinged benzoin resin begins to run next to the first proper stirrings of smoky, woody leather. Ghostly flutters of fresh lavender, crushed vetiver stems, and jasmine honey flitter about the background. The arrival of other notes slowly weakens the aldehydes’ grip, chipping away at that muffling, obscuring blanket, and gradually, inch by inch, adding subtle layers to the scent.

“Chthonian” by Matt Spinella at (Direct website link embedded within.)

About 3.5 hours in, everything changes again. MEM turns overtly floral, as rose, lily of the valley (muguet), orange blossoms, and jasmine dance merrily on center stage under a cloud of soft aldehydes laced with a handful of grass. The cumulative effect reminds me of the floral-aldehydic style of Chanel mixed with Dior-ish greenness, all rendered in tiny brush strokes, resulting in a dreamscape where every note is akin to a puffy, light  cloud. The aldehydes are merely a light, well-blended touch now; the woods, smoke, and leather have vanished; and there is nary a sign of any civet or animalics in sight. (In fact, MEM is never animalic or civety on my skin at any point whatsoever.) There is nothing aromatic about the scent now, either. However, in the middle of the 5th hour, the lavender returns, bearing a green-white floral sweetness that, once again, whispers of “tuberose” and gardenia ghosts on my skin.

Source: Pinterest. Original artist unknown.

The kaleidoscope keeps shifting and realigning, and small ripples grow into larger ones. When the 6th hour rolls around, the aldehydes vanish and MEM turns into a fruity white floral licked by lashings of honey and lightly caramelic sweetness, all sprinkled liberally with fresh, clean lavender and a pinch of spicy sandalwood. At the end of the 7th hour and start of the 8th, the kaleidoscope’s levers move again, and MEM wafts lavender, rose, soft aldehydes, and a multi-faceted mix of greenness, ranging from grass to crushed stems, mint, herbs, and a subtle woody, earthy, mossiness. The benzoin seems to have sunk into the base once more but, yet again, there is that ghostly whisper of “tuberose” on my skin, a trick of the mind resulting from the alchemical magic of various notes combining together. Another trick of the mind seems to be a slightly incense-like (?) note that pops up once in a blue moon in the background before quickly darting away.

William Turner, “Sun Setting over a Lake,” 1840. Source: Pinterest &

It’s a completely different story when MEM’s long drydown begins, roughly towards the end of the 10th hour. All traces of aromatics, fruity florals, white florals, and greenness disappear as the warm, fully oriental base notes rise up and take dominion. Fluffy golden ambers run wild next to benzoin praline, beautifully spicy and creamy sandalwood, and tonka that has a slight powderiness. From time to time, tiny curlicues of smoke puff up from the resins (and/or sandalwood). Once in a rare blue moon, if I put nose right on my arm and concentrate hard, there seems to be a suggestion of musky darkness that is possibly, potentially, maybe, a little leathery, but it’s so elusive amidst the golden haze that it’s difficult to be certain. For the most part, MEM is now simply a golden aura, a haze of sweet, ambered sunlit warmth worthy of one of Turner’s sunsets. It’s beautiful, inviting, cozy, and snuggalicious, a gossamer silken cloud that coats the skin like fine cashmere.

And it lasts seemingly forever! On my skin, MEM typically lasts 22 to 24 hours, and that wonderful drydown is a good 12 hours of it. Mr. Gardoni kindly provided me with a small decant and, since its atomizer hole is on the larger side, my application numbers are the same as if I sprayed from an actual bottle. I consistently applied 2 sprays in my tests. With that amount, MEM always opened with about 3-4 inches of projection and a scent trail of about 4 to 5 inches. It was a weaving, dancing trail that felt as light as air, but strong close up. MEM has a weightless, airy strength to it that feels lighter, softer, and quieter than past Bogue creations, even Mr. Gardoni’s Aeon 001, but I think that’s rather in line with the whole cloud-like atmospherics and dreamy feel of the scent. The projection drops roughly 75 minutes in to somewhere between 1.5 and 2 inches, while the sillage feels like a soft cloud that envelops one with roughly 4 inches in radius. About 2.25 hours in, MEM’s projection hovers 0.5 to 1 inches above the skin, and the sillage turns into more discreet vapors. Things remain that way until roughly the 7th hour when MEM finally turns into a skin scent, although it’s easy to detect up close when I bring my nose to my arm up to the 14th or 15th hour. At that point, I have to nuzzle the skin. MEM turns into skin-hugging sheath from that point until its end.

While I love MEM, I have the feeling that it will be a polarizing Love it/Hate it fragrance for a few reasons. First, I think people’s reactions to it will depend heavily on what notes or accords their skin amplifies, and how they feel about those notes, as well as the extent to which MEM changes on their skin, and how many layers appear throughout the journey. Second, MEM is not the easiest of fragrances to figure out or categorize. Third, people who go into it expecting one thing — like a purely lavender scent or a fougère — may be discombobulated to suddenly find themselves wearing a completely different genre of perfumery. Fourth, people who have loved Bogue’s vintage-skewing creations (MAAI, Gardelia, the now-discontinued Cologne Reloaded) may have mixed feelings about the rather different aesthetic or style on display here.

On the other hand, name me one Bogue creation that doesn’t challenge its wearer? This is not a brand for those who want uncomplicated, simplistic, or typical fragrances. In fact, I would argue that one of the very best things about the Bogue line is how much the fragrances differ from the usual thing out there, and how they force you to interact with, analyse, and come to grips with what you’re wearing. For me, personally, MEM is a substantially easier and more approachable scent than some prior Bogues, like the sometimes ferocious (but utterly gorgeous) MAAI, the difficult O/E (which, frankly, I didn’t like one whit), or the “Frankenstein” gourmand oriental, Cadavre Exquis, whose immense foodie and sweet aspects sometimes left me blinking or reeling.

MEM has no reviews on its Basenotes entry page thus far, but there are a handful of comments on Fragrantica and, as expected, opinions are completely split. One person loved it, finding it to be a civety fragrance with a vintage feel; another experienced no animalics but everything from the lavender to the florals, herbs, and amber; and a third person hated MEM, found nothing vintage about it, called it “weird,” and described it as “lavender, mint, a nice malty beer” on the one side, but “chocolate ice cream topped with ketchup and green mold” on the other. There is the same lack of consensus and split in opinion with the two reviews on Luckyscent at this time: one is a 3-star rating, expressing disappointment with the scent and with the singularity of its lavender; the other is a 5-star rave, calling it the best release from Mr. Gardoni yet, with perfectly balanced aldehydes, citrus, petitgrain, florals, and musk. I’m trying to keep my reviews on the shorter side, so I’ll let you read the varied accounts on your own if you’re interested.

There is an important point to draw from all this: the scent descriptions are so varied from one person to the next (and that includes me and my review) that it sounds as though each person is experiencing and describing something different. That, in turn, underscores my point from a few minutes ago that MEM is both a chameleon and that reactions are going to depend heavily on what appears on your skin (and the notes that you love/hate). If 10 people tried MEM and there were 6, 7, 8, or even 10 completely different scent experiences, honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised.

My suggestion is to test MEM first before buying it and, when you do, to be patient. Keep in mind not only the fact that it can be a shape-shifter, but also that the micro-dosing technique means that a number of its layers and notes can be quite subtle at times. What appears on the surface is not always what is folded in below. Ultimately, though, I think that individual skin differences are going to determine what you smell, how much is visible, and what is emphasized.

MEM won’t be for everyone, but I thought it was wonderful and I recommend giving it a test sniff for yourself if you love any of the central themes or descriptions provided here. For me, it’s a huge thumbs up. Hopefully, some of you will feel the same way.

Disclosure: My small decant of MEM was kindly provided by Mr. Gardoni. That did not impact this review. My opinions are my own.

Cost & Availability: MEM is an eau de parfum that comes in 50 ml bottle and costs $200, £145, or €180. In the U.S.: Luckyscent has MEM, sells samples, and ships worldwide. Outside the U.S.: you can find MEM at Essenza Nobile and the NL’s ParfuMaria, both of which sell samples and ship worldwide. MEM is also available at Italy’s Sacro Cuore  (for €185) and London’s Bloom Perfumery. I’m afraid I haven’t found MEM listed online anywhere else. First in Fragrance, for example, does not carry the Bogue line. Bogue itself does not have a retail e-store or a Stockist page. Samples: Almost all the sites listed here sell samples. In addition, MEM is also available at Surrender to Chance starting at $5.99 for a 1/2 ml vial.

32 thoughts on “Bogue MEM

  1. In my opinion, the majority of reviewers and review consumers don’t acknowledge the role skin chemistry plays in fragrance performance. You are one of the few who consistently mentions it as a factor to consider. If MEM results in more conversations within the community about that I’ll be happy. The sooner hobbyists recognize that variable, the less likely perfume heartbreak and confusion are to be a part of their futures.
    That said, based on your description I’d almost be willing to blind buy a bottle of MEM just to try it on different people I know, and then follow them around for 22 hours! It sounds like a hobby in and of itself.
    P.S. If this is the direction your perfume review choices are going, I could not be more pleased. I’m so very glad you are back on the scene. You were missed. If you’ll excuse the familiarity, hugs from western NY.

    • I gladly and happily accept your hugs, Troy, and they’ve rather made my day!

      As for the issue of variables, not only do I agree, but you’ve actually touched on a major sore point with me that I’ve contemplated writing about a number of times in the past. I actually once drafted an entire post about the issue of how there are no absolutes in perfumery, how people always think or imply that there is ONE absolute reality or Universal Truth, but there is not because everything is subjective in this field, everything is personal, and everything is subject to a host of unstated variables that no-one considers.

      It’s not merely skin differences (which, in and of themselves, depend on everything from dryness to hormones, health, and age). It’s also how much each person is applying, in what way, where they live, etc. They talk about longevity as if it were an absolute truth and subject to the exact, same identical circumstances from one person to the next, when it is anything but that. A person dabbing a few light smears in Alaska won’t get the same results as someone applying 5 sprays in that same location, let alone the person applying 5 sprays in Dubai whose humid climate tends to make perfume perform completely differently. When people comment on a place like Fragrantica that a perfume has no performance or great performance, or that it smells like X, Y, and Z, I always say in my head: “in your experience” or “on your skin.” But they present it as an incontrovertible Universal Truth that applies to everyone, everywhere, and in all conditions or circumstances.

      And, of course, all of this is quite separate from the role played by subjective personal perceptions, different degrees of perfume experience and nose sensitivity. That adds in yet another dimension of factors to skew how a scent will appear.

      So, yeah, this is a sore point for me and I agree with you completely that people should be more aware of the absolutist nature of their thinking and how there is no Correct/Incorrect, True/False Absolute reality. I ended up discarding my draft because I think I seemed slightly huffy in my exasperation. But really, it gets to me so.

      Do you know, I once saw someone (who claims they are an experienced perfumista) say that I was “incorrect” and “WRONG” in the number of hours a perfume lasted on me, implying there was a “Correct” answer to individual longevity on a person’s skin, as well as a universal truth based on the nature of the numbers on THEIR own skin???! I mean, how ludicrous and what an illogical fallacy? A fragrance couldn’t possibly last 8 hours on me because it lasted longer on them? So individual personal experiences are either incorrect or correct because there is one SINGLE universal truth (which happens to depend solely on them and their own subjective experiences)?

      The sad thing is, this sort of illogical intellectual reasoning is widespread and common. Read the comments to any Fragrantica thread and you will see most of them automatically assume that there is one Universal Truth, outcome, and reality, all based on a narcissistic belief that the person’s individual experience applies to everyone. It drives me UP.THE.WALL.

      Sorry for the vent and rant. As I said, this is a sore point for me. I’ll take your hug now. LOL 😉 😀

      • Here I am again over a year later.

        I’d like to say I couldn’t believe someone would doubt the lived experience of a fragrance’s longevity on your own skin as you mentioned in your reply, but if we’re being honest, doubting people’s lived experiences is a common problem in many areas of society today. Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous though.

        As for MEM, I’m finally sampling it. The effect of a wearer’s body idiosyncrasies aside, your description resonated as spot on with me as I wore it. I know the kind of lavender you hate, and I’m not a fan either. I equate it with a perfumer’s formulaic short cut like vanilla. But you are right, this is a very different animal. The opening for me was a citrus, floral, mint (I also hate mint, but this dose was perfection for the chord) blast. A white “tuberose” cloud tinged with gold billowed up softly. It was surrounded by this… what? Something green, slightly sharp, but ephemeral, too. It wasn’t until I read your review again that I realized it was that blend of lavenders you mentioned. And at that point I’m hooked. Lost in all of these florals I love but don’t usually wear out. And just below the surface (and I’d bet this is due to my skin chemistry) this growling whisper of something animalic. It’s not dirty, but definitely a scent worthy of “can’t get close enough to you” attention and likely to leave ghosts on the pillow. It gives the bouquet a little more gravitas. Is it enough gravitas for me to wear? I think I may need a few more wearings to figure that out. I’m not particularly grave. MEM is a wonder though. The kind of thing I’d splurge and buy for an interesting friend who was crazy for rich, hedonistic white flower perfumes.

        Great to read your review again! Thanks for your thoughtful work! Hope you are well!

  2. Good too early morning from the airport. One week trip to Europe and family. Up at 4am. Best thing ever to find this review while in the lounge. You’re right. I would have to try this. Oh my wallet. So so many scents in there: vétiver, petit grain (yes yes) high grade lavender. And anyone’s guess how the base would play out on me. Although citrus sticks to me so not sure …. on the list.
    As for the fur balls. I’m having a difficult time with relating to one doggie who just turned 5 because he is untrainable. I have never encountered such a thing. Even the cats now know when it’s snuggle and when the index fibger goes up and the stare down happens then don’t dare hop on the kitchen table. No. This doggie has gone through professional training specialized collars food changes and all other kinds of things. He’s a rescue. So who knows what before. He has been loved to bits for 3.5 years. The other rescue dog who we know for sure was abused isn’t doing great after 2 years. And loves seeing me. No. Untrainable. And needs a muzzle when out because Unpredictable (he bit a geriatric man out of nowhere?!). I wonder if he was dropped on his head not out of meanness but genuinely because of the level of impulsivity and inattention. (She, yep, this time à she -back to reliving my 20s – I thought for the rebound fun of it, she bright romance and dreaming back into my life when I least expectedly it)- she believes that he’s actually really smart and needs a group of cows to herd. He tries with the cats. Disaster. I’m trying to channel all the patience in the world. She’s at her wits end with him and we’re slowly looking for a farm and loving owners who might want him. But it has to be a real home with backsies just in case. I’m not holding my breathe. The lease we have for August has a huge basement space and back yard. Here’s hoping that larger living will be helpful because he gets on the nerves of the other 3 furries, not just me, so the energy can get crazy when we’re all under the same roof. She found a new trainer. I remain hopeful. So far, the nocturnal barking rampages are much improvised. So. Perhaps that explains a bit better? 🙂
    I’ll be back to my perfume sampling once the move is done (I’ve delayed a few weeks to stay with my mom through a treatment-living across continents will be the only way.for now. As usual).

    • *The second rescue dog IS doing great. You should how he smiles and his bum shakes when he sees me or hears my name. *nocturnal barking improved * brought romance back***** iPhone screen!

    • Ha, I told you MEM was a must-try for you! And it’s not just the petitgrain and vetiver either. The orange blossom, geranium, resins, and aromatics all made me think of you, too.

      Have a wonderful holiday and safe trip. Btw, the more you describe your new partner, the happier I am for you. She sounds wonderful and with such a big heart! I hope the romance, dreams, and delight never fade for you two. As for your hapless, untrainable Lab-mix rescue, it does seem like a farm or place with some acreage would suit him best. Herding might be the very thing to calm him down, too. So I hope you find a place soon. Last but not least, fingers crossed that your mother’s treatment is effective and as painless as possible. Hugs back, my dear.

  3. I generally don’t like lavender, although without the good reasons you have, but I adore Mem. It smells like no lavender I’ve ever encountered in real life! Thanks as always for the review.

    • Isn’t the lavender both fantastic and extremely unusual?! When you say that it “smells like no lavender I’ve ever encountered in real life,” I know exactly what you mean and completely agree. If all lavender smelled like this, I think fewer people would be as twitchy about it. LOL.

      I’m so pleased you adore MEM. I know you smell great in it. 😀

  4. What a beautiful ( as ever) story about your “travel” with MEM. I have two samples ( from my favourite Parfumaria in IJsselstein in the Netherlands) and my first thought was that this is not a perfume for everyone. You have to do your best to understand what it is all about. That is why I am happy to have two samples, to give it enough time to explore it. With your written story in my head I can try to recognize the different ingredients. By the way: O/E of which I have a 30 ml bottle is delicious in my skin.

    • First, welcome to the blog, Mary. 🙂 Second, I’m glad you’re enjoying MEM and willing to spend the time to understand it. I think Mr. Gardoni is a very thoughtful perfumer in terms of the amount of thought, care, and time that he puts into each one of his carefully crafted creations. I’m sure he’ll be very happy that someone is willing to reciprocate in terms of time, testing, and getting to know the scent. And I’m equally sure he would be delighted to hear that O/E is such a hit with you. 🙂

      • thank you. I just searched for a review about Fourreau noir and in 2013 you wrote about it. In 2012 I went to Paris for three days with a group of perfume “junkies” lead by Roos Lubbers and we had amongst other visits to Francis Kurkdjian, Hermes, Guerlain, The different Company and Frederic Malle a perfume consultation in the Palais Royal in the beautiful room upstairs ( I will never forget that) and after that I bought the bell jar of Fourreau noir. There is about a quarter left and I treasure it!

    • Thank you for the welcome back and for the links. Those are actually the same ones already in the Details section of the review, but I’m glad to know that I didn’t miss any stores and to have confirmation that this is the European stockist list. 🙂 Have a super weekend.

      PS — sorry that your comment originally ended up in the Spam section. WordPress automatically tosses anything with links into the Spam folder because of all the spam bots flooding sites with links to cheap rolexes and the like, lol, but I fished it out. 🙂

  5. I can feel the passion that got into reviewing MEM and I want to try it, together with MAAI.
    I am not a fan a lavender either, but you’ve made me curious about this one and with all the different facets and shifts, painting analogy and huge longevity, I must try to sample this one in the future.

    • Regular, typical, every day lavender is… *shudder* MEM is only the second lavender scent that I would wear myself (SL’s original formula Fourreau Noir is the other one), and it’s not only because of the unusual nature of the lavender but because there is so much MORE than just lavender on my skin. So, I hope you’ll give it a try, my fellow lavender-phobe, and I also hope it’s as complex, shifting, charismatic, and appealing on you.

      Regardless of how the specific facets manifest themselves, though, I would be willing to bet that you’ll experience huge longevity. That’s one of the only things everyone seems to agree on. All day longevity! (But don’t expect monster sillage to go with it. This is a softer than several of his prior releases, imo.)

  6. So glad you are back.
    Once again a delicious journey through your words about olfactory experience.
    Thank you.

  7. Oh I am intrigued. I am not a big lavender fan (too often it makes me think of toilet refreshners and those awful scented sachets/bags urgh).
    But this sounds very interesting! I am going to order a sample and will report back. 🙂

    • Haha, another person traumatized by the horrific lavender sachet bags! Just be happy you never lived near Grasse or Provence. Those blasted things seemed to be everywhere! No escape. I remember buying railroad tickets in San Remo, Italy once and, even there, there were a pile of lavender sachets in a wicker basket in the corner of the ticket office. And, you’re right, every loo in a 100 mile radius seemed to have them, too.

      I promise you that this lavender smells entirely different, at least on my skin. It’s smooth, not abrasive and rasping like sandpaper; it’s multi-faceted, not musty like grandmother’s attic or blaringly pungent like a medicine chest. Plus, there is so much else happening in the scent that it’s not a lavender soliflore where it’s all lavender, all the time, front and center, sans cesse. Having said that, this seems to be a fragrance where — more than usual — skin chemistry is going to really determine what is emphasized and what is not. I hope you’ll report back as to how you fare and what you think. 🙂

      • Products like those sachets, air refreshners, cheap scented candles, room sprays and POT POURRI are the bane of my existence.

        I think you can just smell the lack of effort and quality put in it. Haha.

        One if the worst experiences I have ever had was when I visited someone who used a sickenly sweet vanilla scented room fragrance (some kind of foul oil) to mask bad odours coming from a smoking habit.

        Just thinking about it almost make me gag.
        And lots of sweet mainstream designer perfumes remind me of that smell.

        I like good quality incense though, and maybe I should try a fancy candle one day…

  8. Short and simple. I will sample and reread . Oh, LOVE LOVE LOVE Mitchell’s Wonderland work. I used to like Amanda Diaz’s photography .

  9. It suddenly struck me that your way of reviewing mirrors the complexity and multi faceted nature of a perfume (if they have it), and in that way is a true reflection, albeit through your nose and skin. It is a review and a ‘how to smell’ lesson in one, much appreciated.

    I have been experimenting for health reasons with very good quality lavender essential oils, and it is a joy to smell the layers they contain. Since doing this I developed an interest in smelling a good quality lavender based perfume and voila…your wonderful review. I will try it as soon as I can.

  10. …So…I tried MEM and thankfully, no lavender sachets 🙂
    it starts out like a lovely gooey fruity flowery lavender paste, mixed with greens/vetiver, even a bit of soil.
    I struggled a bit with the soapy phase though, but it does not last that long. Its so interesting how this scent morphs and shifts, like a kaleidoscope.
    This may sound strange, but after more than 1,5 hour MEM sometimes feels like a cousin of Sultan Pasha’s Vetiver Blanc, maybe because of the ambergris?

    Oh and the drydown is to die for! So cosy and warm, and I do get a bit of the animalic notes, in a cuddly way. Oh, and I could still detect is after more than 28 hours AND a shower!

    So yes, i think MEM is an incredible fragrance. Do I need a bottle? I dont know yet. Its beautiful, its cosy…
    Its just…the only other Bogue I tried is Maai…now that one had my nose glued to my wrists almost the whole time!
    Maybe its nothing special or new for ‘vintage connaisseurs’ (so I read in a few reviews), but I dont ‘know’ or ‘do’ vintage (except for an Opium perfume my mother gave me)…so Maai impressed me big time. 🙂

    • I loved reading how MEM was on you, so thank you for taking the time to share your experience in wonderful detail.

      The soapy clean aldehyde phase is difficult, isn’t it? I have to confess, I’m a little glad to know it happened on someone else as well, not just me, since MEM seems to be such a chameleon from one person to the next.

      In terms of MAAI, I don’t think vintage connaisseurs are blasé about it. Quite to the contrary, in fact. I think it’s the vintage connaisseurs *in particular* who absolutely adore MAAI. Plenty of people with modern tastes love it, too, of course, but I think those who mourn the loss of the vintage style are especially responsive to MAAI and the classical style it represents, particularly its recreation of abundant, lush, pre-IFRA levels of oakmoss.

      Ultimately, though, I don’t think one has to know or care about vintage to appreciate MAAI. It really comes down to one’s individual tastes for the notes on hand, not to mention one’s feelings about animalics. I think MAAI is a very, very special fragrance, but I wasn’t alone in putting it at the very top of my year-end Best Of list that year. Many sites and reviewers were simply stunned by it. 🙂

      In terms of MEM vs. MAAI, they’re so completely different in their feel, vibe, and style that I think it’s really impossible to compare. One is an incredibly GRAND, bold, powerful fragrance that is almost divaesque in how it makes a statement. The other is more meditative, dream-like, and atmospheric. Much more atmospheric than actual perfume perfume, if that makes any sense. In that sense, MEM is quite atypical, imo. It’s like an atmospheric ambiance that surrounds one with scented vapors, and it’s intentionally been built as an impressionistic structure. There is nothing indirect or impressionistic about MAAI!

      I think one can like both fragrances, but which one strikes a deeper chord will depend on what the wearer loves, both in terms of specific notes *and* in terms of the overall olfactory style. 🙂

      • Thank you 🙂
        Describing an olfactory experience is not easy. Also, english is not my first language. I always feel a bit clumsy when writing it down. So it means a lot when you say you read and love it.

        I totally agree of course, comparing MEM to MAAI…its like comparing a colorfield painting to an Eugene Delacroix. 🙂

        But I just had to mention MAAI because being another Bogue…and MAAI just impressed me more than a lot of other scents I tested last half year.
        Which is a bit odd, because when I look at the scents I love, I’d expected to love MEM more than MAAI….and thats why perfume is so much fun! 🙂

        It was not at all my intention to question the opinions of vintage lovers or doubt the value of mentions of vintage perfume. Maybe I’ll go down that rabbit hole too one day 😉

        And I totally understand it when reviewers mention older fragrances as a reference. I love historical background.

        But I think it is not fair to value new and vintage against each other. If only because of regulations.

        I think I saw it in comments on basenotes or another forum a while ago…where some people dismiss MAAI, a new fragrance that obviously has been made with a lot of attention and love, only because: “it brings nothing new to the table”/and “my (insert name of obscure vintage) does this so much better.”

        …but bottom line of what I actually tried to point out in my post above: you dont need to love or be familiar with vintage to love MAAI 🙂 haha

        I hope to finish your By Kilian review today. Glad you are back!

        • Ah, I think I had misunderstood your comment about other people’s views on the vintage/MAAI situation, perhaps because I’ve never seen a vintage lover disparage it as not adding anything new. My apologies for not understanding the precise nuance of your point, my dear. But we completely and totally agree that one doesn’t need to love or know vintage in order to love MAAI.

          With regard to your English, please know that you have NOTHING to hesitate or worry about. Not one iota! Not only is your English excellent, but so is your olfactory description ability. There are people who can’t parse a fragrance at all, others who can only give the basics, and a third lot who simply lack the confidence in their own skills (or, at least, lack the confidence to describe things to me, at any event). And many of these people feel constrained in describing a fragrance in their FIRST tongue, their native language, let alone describing the details of a scent in their second language! I think you did marvelously in your note analysis and description, and **PARTICULARLY** so for someone who, if I recall correctly, just started their niche perfume journey in the last 18 months or so. Also, if I hadn’t known from beforehand that you weren’t a native speaker, I would never have guessed, so, please, don’t think you’re being clumsy when you write. 🙂 🙂

          • Thank you so much for your kindness and encouragement! 🙂 this means a lot for me, especially coming from a gifted writer like you!

  11. I am so intrigued by this review, I am tempted to obtain a sample of MEM. And see…I love lavender (true lavender, anyway). In fact, the spikier, the more herbal, the better. So I am very curious about a scent that is essentially described as Lavender But Not Really?

    • As a lavender lover, you should definitely get a sample. Then you’ll have to tell me what happens, since experiences seem to vary so much from one person to another. On me, I wouldn’t say that it was a “Lavender But Not Really” so much as it was a “Lavender Plus A Ton of Other Things, So It Went Beyond Just Lavender.” 😉 😀 But, on some people, it was a predominantly lavender scent, so you may be in luck!

      • I have now worn MEM twice, and I’m tempted to wear it again today (I’m a bit worried that I’m going to blow through my sample much too quickly, even though I tend to apply my perfume rather conservatively in terms of amount…I saw someone on fragrantica say they applied TEN SPRAYS OF LA VIE EST BELLE and I was horrified). The first time I wore it, I thought it was very beautiful but I’ll admit that I was a wee bit disappointed that the lavender wasn’t spikier. Oh well, I thought, this juice is still gorgeous and complex and I still like it.

        The second time I wore it, I found it to be MUCH more interesting, especially its opening. I related much more to your experience with the scent – a swirl of beautiful and rich notes, some more grounded, some just flirting with me coyly. I smelled hints of something QUITE bitter and herbal, but it was ghostly…if I looked for it specifically it hid from me, only surprising me when I was concentrating on a different note. I have a tendency to really enjoy bitter, sharp, herbal notes, so it really intrigued me. After the very garden party of the opening, MEM really smooths out on my skin and the majority of the rest of its life is predominantly an almost honeyed champaca blanket resting lightly over the rest of the florals, which have settled down. Really, really beautiful. Definitely not an easy perfume to know, but well worth the effort. I could see saving up some monies for a bottle.

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