Lyric Woman
Amouage (2008)

I would like to know what opera aria or "lyric" Christopher Chong used for the inspiration to Lyric Woman and Lyric Man. I had a very distinct impression of Lyric Man being the duskier and more dour version of Gold Man - if Gold Man was an adulated person parading through the streets amidst the screams and thrown flower petals from admirers, then Lyric Man was that adulated person in the quietness of their home feeling the weight and stress of such adulation. Lyric Woman tracks very much the same way. There is a bright, energetic, and gleeful high point in the very early stages that descends to dimly lit corners and emotional gravitas by the end. I've heard arias like this, that start off full of force and light and joy, and by the end of the song, by the time the story is through, the singer is despondent. Why the hell would anyone want to wear a perfume that does this to you? Great question. Perhaps you don't. I adore Lyric Man. It is one of my favorite Amouage perfumes ever created precisely because it takes me on a journey. I do not think the journey is as expansive, or the elevation change from high to low is as great in Lyric Woman but the common theme is inarguable to my nose, and I adore Lyric Woman as well.

Woody aromatic spices, piquant ginger and bergamot, and powdery aldehydes adulate a blooming fruity red rose accord lying just underneath. There is a bit of citrusy green, white florals in the form of jasmine, and a good helping of exotic and tropical banana like ylang-ylang making sure the powdery orris and aldehydes don’t get too parched and too formal. But the rose never fully blooms; an unnerving angelica note adds a chemical and medicinal woody facet straight to the heart of the rose that makes it smell like it’s slowly dying before it ever fully lived. Gray and animalic musks with a damp mossy note begin to dim the lights lower and lower. The rose strains on, determined but futile and losing breath. A beautiful sandalwood begins to sweep upwards with tendrils of frankincense smoke and earthy woody notes. Stillness in the near darkness, a slight hum and vibration to the air as the aria ends and the stage exits begin.

Whether or not you want to smell like a heartbreaking aria is up you, but it’s stunning, transfixing, and beautiful nonetheless.

I get a nice mix of rose and sandalwood with a little cardamom and cinnamon, but nothing too spicy. It stays smooth and pleasant, not overly floral, with enough woodiness and a light balsamic touch to keep it grounded. The drydown is where it loses me—it turns a bit generic and doesn’t leave much of an impression. It’s not a bad scent at all, and I think most people would find it easy to wear, but it doesn’t really bring anything new. Performance is decent, just lighter than some others in the women’s line, but it’ll get you through the day. If you skip this one, you’re not missing out on much.

I didn’t think very much of Lyric Woman until I spilled a sample vial of it on some paper in my office one day (nearly a decade ago, Jesus) and was met by this most incredible aroma of real Indian sandalwood – creamy but dry, rosy but as sturdy as a table. I was felled; it moved me. But if the sandalwood was the hook, I ended up sticking around for the lush rose and smoky-buttery-banana ylang, floral shapes in the air carved out and defined by the spices that jostled in the air pockets in and around them – mostly a prickly, piquant green cardamom, which gives the rose a grainy, beery-like dimension, and a fiery black pepper that sharpens and adds angularity to the custardy ylang.

The overall effect is surprisingly smooth and mild for something so densely packed with spice, and I’ve come to realize that Lyric Woman shares a similar structure with Parfum Sacre, in that the botanical ‘true-ness’ of the rose is modulated and made lotiony-smooth by the buffing action of the spices, and intertwined so deeply with the sandal that it is tough to see where the seams between rose and wood actually lie.

In the 2009 Guide, Luca Turin talks about a fruity-woody damascone note in Lyric Woman that turns it from a nice perfume into one that might be called a masterpiece. And he is right, of course – there is a raisiny, dried plum quality to the rose that makes you think of rot at the heart of an otherwise perfect-looking apple – but I also think that the piquant cardamom and incredible sandalwood are also key players in the magic. Without them, this might be a nice fruity-woody-incense rose – with them, Lyric Woman becomes the most accomplished translation of the traditional rosy-sandal attar motif of Arabian perfumery to a format more familiar to Western Europeans.

When I first started exploring the world of fragrance (I’ve always loved perfumes but there was a definite time where a deeper interest level arose), Amouage was one of the first niche brands I tried… and at that time, the beauty of Lyric was lost on me. I am so glad that I had the foresight even then to hold onto samples that I didn’t like to revisit later.

Now, now I can say that I fully appreciate Lyric Woman. There are many perfumes that I love, but very few do I feel comfortable calling a “masterpiece”. Lyric is among the few for me. It’s just simply perfect.

To me, I get retro vibes, and I LOVE that! It opens with a sharp and dry blast reminiscent of a chypre to me, before unfurling its legs into an alluring velvety rose oriental, with just the right amount of spice. I remember wanting this experience when I tried FM Portrait of a Lady, but it didn’t quite give me this. I set out for a while after trying POAL, to find a fragrance that delivered what I was looking for, and everything was just a bit off. It wasn’t until after I set down that side mission that was getting me nowhere, that I revisited Lyric. I didn’t even have the POAL quest in my head, just a simple urge to try some perfumes that I had previously written off.

And that’s when I fell in love with Lyric. Couldn’t even imagine how I could ever possibly dislike it in the first place. But I’ve noticed that the deeper I fall down the rabbit hole, the more I appreciate true perfumery, and not the oversweet stuff of today. I do still enjoy them, but my heart belongs to the fragrances that have something more to say than just sugar sweet.

For something as beautiful as lyric, I wouldn’t really even care too much about performance, but it doesn’t disappoint there either. Easily lasts all day, and has the Goldilocks amount of projection and sillage that it remains noticeable but not loud. It really is just perfect all around.

A low key scent by Amouage standard which is still unmissable. What's clever is how the bitter sweet Angelica rubs out the rough edges of Geranium which in turn lengthen and widen the rose accord. Rest of it is classic Amouage goodness. Love it.

Lyric Woman

Unexpected. The soft, powdery, mildly sweet, yet complex fragrance belies the fierce red packaging. Unlike the Amouage fragrances I've tested so far, no single note immediately sings out. This is well-blended, and dare I say unique? Arguably sweet with a slight fruitiness, it is nevertheless not foody. It's difficult to define, because while definitely an oriental and with all of those hallmarks including spiciness, it doesn't come across as spicy. Spices are a simple structure around the ethereal breeze of tonka and orris, highlighted by bergamot and filled out by white florals. At the drydown, it smells familiar. I can't place it, but I know it reminds me of Dior Addict and Iris Perle by Les Imodables. Pleasant, personal, pretty.