Reviews of Miyako by Auphorie
Osmanthus is one of my most favorite perfume accords. Read some of my past reviews of osmanthus perfumes and you’ll easily note my favorites, yet I haven’t mentioned Miyako in a single one. There is one reason for this: I cannot recommend Miyako as a daily or even semi frequent wear. However, as a special occasion wear I don’t believe I’ve encountered a better osmanthus composition.
Luscious yellow tree fruit gives the perfume a cool yet golden glow in the form of a supple and well rounded sweetness. White and pink powdery roses flank one of the best black tea notes I’ve yet to find in modern perfumery as a summation of the florals, fresh suede leather, and earthy woods. The texture comes across as a very luxurious and rich lotion. Divine and gorgeous. The balance and photorealism of these notes is hopelessly addictive to the nose. The base leans heavily on the hinoki and patchouli, giving dry, loamy, top soil earthiness and aromatic dark brown woods. Cedar bolsters the latter, with pleasantly sticky soap musks carrying a lot of the floral theme through to the end.
I said that despite being one of the best osmanthus compositions I have smelled, I cannot recommend it. It is an extrait sold in 15mL bottles, it is very expensive and prohibitive for daily wearing (for the overwhelming majority of us). However, there is also another reason: it’s a bit too special, a bit too magical, far too attentive to details and exquisite materials to be worn and simply forgotten about as you go through the day. Attention is deserved; a special occasion is in order. Prepare to be wowed.
Luscious yellow tree fruit gives the perfume a cool yet golden glow in the form of a supple and well rounded sweetness. White and pink powdery roses flank one of the best black tea notes I’ve yet to find in modern perfumery as a summation of the florals, fresh suede leather, and earthy woods. The texture comes across as a very luxurious and rich lotion. Divine and gorgeous. The balance and photorealism of these notes is hopelessly addictive to the nose. The base leans heavily on the hinoki and patchouli, giving dry, loamy, top soil earthiness and aromatic dark brown woods. Cedar bolsters the latter, with pleasantly sticky soap musks carrying a lot of the floral theme through to the end.
I said that despite being one of the best osmanthus compositions I have smelled, I cannot recommend it. It is an extrait sold in 15mL bottles, it is very expensive and prohibitive for daily wearing (for the overwhelming majority of us). However, there is also another reason: it’s a bit too special, a bit too magical, far too attentive to details and exquisite materials to be worn and simply forgotten about as you go through the day. Attention is deserved; a special occasion is in order. Prepare to be wowed.
Miyako from Auphorie. There's a good reason this perfume is a mainstay in their line. Without a doubt, it is their crowning achievement. Art and Olfaction winner and highly praised by Luca Turin (whose rating system eludes me for the most part).
Miyako was an instant love for me, and that hasn't changed over the years. If I am to keep one perfume from the house, is this one. They struck a perfect balance here, no doubt. Exploiting the best of Osmanthus as an ingredient while stretching its olfactory profile and keeping the composition on the brighter side of the spectrum, as opposed to the latest release, Osmanthe Oud.
Miyako feels like a day walk through a Japanese village during Spring, the scent of tea wafting from the Tea Houses nearby. The opening is bright and invigorating. A blast of juicy yuzu and sweet peach, adorned with green tea and aromatic herbs. It cheers you up and energizes you. The middle phase is all about Osmnthus, already overlapping with the base to suggest the suede leather impression and the woods. Maybe some Orris or Jasmine is being used as well as I sense some other white floral touches and a hint of chalky-earthiness that Orris can sometimes give off. The leather impression is soft, suede-like, and almost dry in feel. The woods are on the creamy side, buttery, and not spicy or sharp as one might expect reading Cedarwood and Hinkoki among the ingredients. Some synthetic musks round up the base, and they fit in nicely. Of all synthetic musks, I feel the Au brothers are among the few who know how to use them to their maximum potential.
A solid perfume in my books, and if there is one to try or even blind buy from this house, it should be this one, granted you like Osmathus and East Asian aesthetic and flavors.
IG:@memory.of.scents
Miyako was an instant love for me, and that hasn't changed over the years. If I am to keep one perfume from the house, is this one. They struck a perfect balance here, no doubt. Exploiting the best of Osmanthus as an ingredient while stretching its olfactory profile and keeping the composition on the brighter side of the spectrum, as opposed to the latest release, Osmanthe Oud.
Miyako feels like a day walk through a Japanese village during Spring, the scent of tea wafting from the Tea Houses nearby. The opening is bright and invigorating. A blast of juicy yuzu and sweet peach, adorned with green tea and aromatic herbs. It cheers you up and energizes you. The middle phase is all about Osmnthus, already overlapping with the base to suggest the suede leather impression and the woods. Maybe some Orris or Jasmine is being used as well as I sense some other white floral touches and a hint of chalky-earthiness that Orris can sometimes give off. The leather impression is soft, suede-like, and almost dry in feel. The woods are on the creamy side, buttery, and not spicy or sharp as one might expect reading Cedarwood and Hinkoki among the ingredients. Some synthetic musks round up the base, and they fit in nicely. Of all synthetic musks, I feel the Au brothers are among the few who know how to use them to their maximum potential.
A solid perfume in my books, and if there is one to try or even blind buy from this house, it should be this one, granted you like Osmathus and East Asian aesthetic and flavors.
IG:@memory.of.scents
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I get why Luca Turin was so enthused. Miyako is as close to the pungent, slippery smell of osmanthus absolute that is possible to get. Stale, varnishy Hindi oud with lots of dusty old furniture and dried, rhino foreskins, dust motes, and the oud-adjacent funk of Époisses, membrillo paste that’s on the turn, and over-brewed black tea so fermented and leathery it makes the membranes in the back of your throat seize up. Miyako is initially less perfume than something like salted plum or beef jerky. It’s good. No, it’s great, actually, with the qualifier that you have to really love the feral, buttered-apricot intensity of the absolute.
It is also, and how can I say this politely, so intensely sweet, and so obnoxiously, unrelentingly jammy that my ladystache starts to sweat. All that peach jam business is backed up by a stonkingly smoky, resinous amber the size of an Amber Absolute. It is a tale of two halves – osmanthus absolute and labdanum absolute, which are in and of themselves two very complex naturals.
And that is my main complaint, really. In typical indie fashion, the perfumers lean on their starring raw materials to do all the heavy lifting. So, when you smell the funky apricot jam, the leather, the animalic aspects, the incense, the resin, the smoke, you think, my God, but this thing is a colossal feat of perfumery. Too bad, then, that the seams between the two mahoosive start materials are so apparent. It makes me wince to see so clearly past the curtain the Wizard of Oz is clutching. I want the smoke and mirrors. I don’t want – particularly – to see the joints and the architraves. Miyako smells undeniably great, but it is also pretty clumsy-blocky-fingerpainty in construction. It needs more air between its molecules to feel comfortable on the skin.
It is also, and how can I say this politely, so intensely sweet, and so obnoxiously, unrelentingly jammy that my ladystache starts to sweat. All that peach jam business is backed up by a stonkingly smoky, resinous amber the size of an Amber Absolute. It is a tale of two halves – osmanthus absolute and labdanum absolute, which are in and of themselves two very complex naturals.
And that is my main complaint, really. In typical indie fashion, the perfumers lean on their starring raw materials to do all the heavy lifting. So, when you smell the funky apricot jam, the leather, the animalic aspects, the incense, the resin, the smoke, you think, my God, but this thing is a colossal feat of perfumery. Too bad, then, that the seams between the two mahoosive start materials are so apparent. It makes me wince to see so clearly past the curtain the Wizard of Oz is clutching. I want the smoke and mirrors. I don’t want – particularly – to see the joints and the architraves. Miyako smells undeniably great, but it is also pretty clumsy-blocky-fingerpainty in construction. It needs more air between its molecules to feel comfortable on the skin.
I honestly don't understand the hype for this one. I've owned and loved many from this house, and I'm also a lover of vintage chypres. So this one should have been a homerun. But it came across to me as ... just nice? Uninspiring and it didn't hold my interest, despite how much I wanted it to. *shrug*
The beauty of this is that it feels totally natural. It smells like you are really smelling osmanthus and a garden of exotic fruits and flowers. But it's not overly floral in a perfumey way like, say, Arpege or Joy.
These brothers have created a perfume that utterly transports me to an exotic but unnamable tropical garden. Good on them!
I find projection, development and longevity to be very good.
These brothers have created a perfume that utterly transports me to an exotic but unnamable tropical garden. Good on them!
I find projection, development and longevity to be very good.
Strange and wonderful. I finally made my peace with Miyako. Mostly, fragrances are about balance. In few instances does it make more difference than here. I've worn it three or four times, and each time I wondered where the topnotes were - the apricot, yuzu, peach. It always opens very equestrian on me. A big horsey leather dominates the scent on my skin. So it turns this fragrance into something other than an osmanthus fruity floral. All those notes just do background service to the leather (which they do well - osmanthus always works with leathers). Once I figured this out, everything else clicked into place. It's as if I'm smelling a different version than others are smelling, a flanker - Miyako Equestre.
Another interesting thing about this fragrance. Outside in cool air, the leather recedes, the fruity-florals come forward and I think at this point I'm experiencing more what others are smelling - it becomes more beautiful. It's a very solid fragrance in cold air. But it's so odd it reacts this way, being a fragrance created in a more warm, humid climate. What comes out on me in the cold is what is present for others at room temperature. And yet, because it is a strong, dense fragrance, it's not the type I'd wear outside.
So Miyako is an ambivalent wear for me. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to make it become reliable. I still like smelling it - osmanthus is such an unusual chameleon of a mud flower to me. This is one of those fragrances I can't wear, and put in a collection of other samples I love but can't wear, and bring out to smell once in a while. They each have something that really speaks to me, that I want to keep around and experience, though I can't wear them. I have a small wood box with a lid for these samples, to keep them available, so I can smell one or the other of them from time to time. It's a different level of appreciation for these beauties, so I can enjoy them on their own terms.
But as a skin art, one to live with, no.
Another interesting thing about this fragrance. Outside in cool air, the leather recedes, the fruity-florals come forward and I think at this point I'm experiencing more what others are smelling - it becomes more beautiful. It's a very solid fragrance in cold air. But it's so odd it reacts this way, being a fragrance created in a more warm, humid climate. What comes out on me in the cold is what is present for others at room temperature. And yet, because it is a strong, dense fragrance, it's not the type I'd wear outside.
So Miyako is an ambivalent wear for me. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to make it become reliable. I still like smelling it - osmanthus is such an unusual chameleon of a mud flower to me. This is one of those fragrances I can't wear, and put in a collection of other samples I love but can't wear, and bring out to smell once in a while. They each have something that really speaks to me, that I want to keep around and experience, though I can't wear them. I have a small wood box with a lid for these samples, to keep them available, so I can smell one or the other of them from time to time. It's a different level of appreciation for these beauties, so I can enjoy them on their own terms.
But as a skin art, one to live with, no.
It's good but I'm not blown away? Maybe I need to use more, but the sample is rather small.
I'll report back
I'll report back
I could call Auphorie Miyako (2015) the "Ozymandius of Osmanthus" and basically be done with the review, but I don't want to short-change anyone. The truth of the matter is Miyako represents a "Maximalist" take on one of the most popular genres in women's perfume: the fruity floral. Just like cut-and-dry aquatics, the fruity floral is probably one of my least favorite genres, as they've been done to death and also like aquatics, almost certainly smell like a dressier version of some body wash or shampoo I've sniffed somewhere whilst shopping for groceries. However, Miyako represents something bigger and bolder than that, so it was worth the sniff even if just for the self-edification. The sibling perfumer team of Eugene and Emyrs Au have presented golden osmanthus - a favorite in mainland Asia - wrapped in apricot and yuzu on a leathery bed of woods and musk. It won't win over anyone not a fan of these notes, but it's quite creative and more powerful than the average fruit basket mall perfume. Hailing from Malaysia, Auphorie tends to factor in a lot of the local culture with their creations, and those familiar with the artisinal house will not be surprised by Miyako.
The scent of Miyako opens with a crescendo of fruit, slamming the nose without apology or subtlety. Fruity florals tend to be very apologist in nature when made by designers; they're usually thin, transparent, relying on a lot of citrus and delicate white florals. With Miyako, an old-school pre-WWII loud randiness is applied to the genre, and the fruit rushes forward with the power of your mother's Tabu (1941), then dries down to an earthy base. Apricot, peach, and yuzu smell like an opened can of Goya nectar, leading into the eventual osmanthus note of the heart. A jasmine indole note makes Miyako a lot dirtier than any fruity floral you'll encounter in Ulta or Sephora, while a green tea note assists in the dry down to the eventual leather in the base. Cedar, sandalwood, and the exotic hinoki wood are claimed to be in the base, but I get no separation with them, and read a giant "blob woods" note swaddled in patchouli and musk, which eventually come to overtake the leather too. This is extrait so longevity is immortal, with close diffusion.
That opening Smucker's fruit jam accord is the real maker or breaker with Miyako, followed by the osmanthus, as the rest of the wear is sweet woods and musk with a leathery tinge that from afar could be a lot of things. The perfume is certainly quality, and is very dense, blended, and will give fans of the style plenty to savor, but is just a bit too cloying for me. Miyako is labeled unisex but this style traditionally appeals more to feminine tastes, but that doesn't mean a guy who loves stuff like Joop! Homme (1989) won't find some synergy with Miyako, making it worth a sniff. Neutral is the highest I can rate this as per my own tastes, but I can understand the hype surrounding Miyako from perfumistas fond of rich, fruity florals that have solid non-synthetic foundations. Miyako is quite the rare bird in that it delivers it's theme in a rather opaque style, it's just not something I could ever see myself reaching for despite this distinction. Regardless, I implore seeking this out for folks who want something in this vein with enough gumption to withstand the cold, which is where most other fruity florals and "fruitchouli" perfumes fail.
The scent of Miyako opens with a crescendo of fruit, slamming the nose without apology or subtlety. Fruity florals tend to be very apologist in nature when made by designers; they're usually thin, transparent, relying on a lot of citrus and delicate white florals. With Miyako, an old-school pre-WWII loud randiness is applied to the genre, and the fruit rushes forward with the power of your mother's Tabu (1941), then dries down to an earthy base. Apricot, peach, and yuzu smell like an opened can of Goya nectar, leading into the eventual osmanthus note of the heart. A jasmine indole note makes Miyako a lot dirtier than any fruity floral you'll encounter in Ulta or Sephora, while a green tea note assists in the dry down to the eventual leather in the base. Cedar, sandalwood, and the exotic hinoki wood are claimed to be in the base, but I get no separation with them, and read a giant "blob woods" note swaddled in patchouli and musk, which eventually come to overtake the leather too. This is extrait so longevity is immortal, with close diffusion.
That opening Smucker's fruit jam accord is the real maker or breaker with Miyako, followed by the osmanthus, as the rest of the wear is sweet woods and musk with a leathery tinge that from afar could be a lot of things. The perfume is certainly quality, and is very dense, blended, and will give fans of the style plenty to savor, but is just a bit too cloying for me. Miyako is labeled unisex but this style traditionally appeals more to feminine tastes, but that doesn't mean a guy who loves stuff like Joop! Homme (1989) won't find some synergy with Miyako, making it worth a sniff. Neutral is the highest I can rate this as per my own tastes, but I can understand the hype surrounding Miyako from perfumistas fond of rich, fruity florals that have solid non-synthetic foundations. Miyako is quite the rare bird in that it delivers it's theme in a rather opaque style, it's just not something I could ever see myself reaching for despite this distinction. Regardless, I implore seeking this out for folks who want something in this vein with enough gumption to withstand the cold, which is where most other fruity florals and "fruitchouli" perfumes fail.
An osmanthus heaven. A Chinoiserie painting. A complex tapestry with thread of osmanthus, apricot, tea, hinoki and animalic musk woven into an exotic Far East garden. ...
Definitely worths the award!
Definitely worths the award!
Auphorie typifies a strain of indie maximalism and Miyako is their gale force creation.
An anecdote: while we had house guests who had been sampling my collection, my normally non-perfume wearing partner decided to pick up a random bottle and spray himself. His hand alighted on Miyako and he went for the three to four sprays that are usually a happy mean for most perfumes. A perfume bomb exploded. We went to an open air event and a cloud of Miyako enveloped us and emanated far beyond other people gave us dodgy looks. By lunchtime we had had enough and begged him to wash some of it off. Thus, beast mode' hunters, look no further. The rest be warned and use with discretion.
No prior perfume quite matches Miyako's golden effulgence, a wave of (over)ripe peach and apricot breaks first over the wearer, the scent concentrated, jammy, before it starts letting some air in and opening out to the matching floral note around which Miyako is centred the fruity-leathery osmanthus blossom. There are delicious tart accents and before long a worn and sweaty leather comes into play; it's a scent close to decaying flowers, offering a touch of gravitas in what is perhaps an over-indulgent creation. At the far periphery is a suggestion of something spice-like perhaps the tea and wood notes mentioned? The play of decadent and sombre elements in Miyako is at the heart of its power and mystery, and why, like old age, it's not for sissies. Miyako is like an eternal sunset, suffused in peachy radiance and yet touched by regret for the fading day.
The Au brothers are nothing if not daring, and in Miyako they hold back nothing in terms of the sweet cloying nature of osmanthus, but at the same time they make it majestically diffusive, bringing a dimension of great spaciousness that makes it a perfume to inhabit rather than a head-throbber. Miyako smells far fresher, brighter and downright juicy fruitier on a paper strip than it does on skin, and sometimes I catch myself wishing that Auphorie would release a version that would ditch the leather and smell like that on the wearer, too.
An anecdote: while we had house guests who had been sampling my collection, my normally non-perfume wearing partner decided to pick up a random bottle and spray himself. His hand alighted on Miyako and he went for the three to four sprays that are usually a happy mean for most perfumes. A perfume bomb exploded. We went to an open air event and a cloud of Miyako enveloped us and emanated far beyond other people gave us dodgy looks. By lunchtime we had had enough and begged him to wash some of it off. Thus, beast mode' hunters, look no further. The rest be warned and use with discretion.
No prior perfume quite matches Miyako's golden effulgence, a wave of (over)ripe peach and apricot breaks first over the wearer, the scent concentrated, jammy, before it starts letting some air in and opening out to the matching floral note around which Miyako is centred the fruity-leathery osmanthus blossom. There are delicious tart accents and before long a worn and sweaty leather comes into play; it's a scent close to decaying flowers, offering a touch of gravitas in what is perhaps an over-indulgent creation. At the far periphery is a suggestion of something spice-like perhaps the tea and wood notes mentioned? The play of decadent and sombre elements in Miyako is at the heart of its power and mystery, and why, like old age, it's not for sissies. Miyako is like an eternal sunset, suffused in peachy radiance and yet touched by regret for the fading day.
The Au brothers are nothing if not daring, and in Miyako they hold back nothing in terms of the sweet cloying nature of osmanthus, but at the same time they make it majestically diffusive, bringing a dimension of great spaciousness that makes it a perfume to inhabit rather than a head-throbber. Miyako smells far fresher, brighter and downright juicy fruitier on a paper strip than it does on skin, and sometimes I catch myself wishing that Auphorie would release a version that would ditch the leather and smell like that on the wearer, too.
When Miyako was released, it came in a 30 ml bottle and cost $110. Thanks to Luca Turin and the Auphorie brothers, it is now $208 for a 15 ml bottle...twice the price for half the amount of perfume. Math is not my strong point, but I'm pretty sure this means it has now increased in cost by 400%.
If we ignore this somewhat grubby bit of business practice (which is something I've also been forced to blind myself to with CHANEL), and rate Miyako purely on its scented merits, it scores very highly indeed. I find an analogue to Miyako in vintage Femme; beautiful, juicily ripe, peachy fruit anchored and made flesh-like via an unusual leathery musk. Some of my favorite fragrances (Parfum de Therese, Parure, Mitsouko, and the aforementioned Femme) utilize the combination of fruit and skin to create a sensual aura that more than hints at the scents of the feminine body at its most 'flushed' and receptive.
Gorgeous (and costly) stuff for which I continue to pry open my wallet.
I
Upon the first initial spray I am overwhelmed by a greatness of apricot, yuzu, and peach. These notes pulse as if thrown in a blender. The osmanthus and jasmine-tea are earthy yet sweet. Only a distant hint of leather. The woods and patchouli - they create a false incense mirage. This is dark. Warm. Caramel-like. Genius!
I experience Miyako in two phases. First the fruits, oily notes of peach and apricot that I am indifferent to. The second half is a leathery osmanthus with tea, a beautiful affair. But it's rather quiet on my skin around this time, and once it develops further and arrives at a dry down of woods and musk, I have to dig my nose into my arms to perceive it. While I understand it's natural and oil based, I would love it to have had a lot more sillage. Otherwise it's charming, and longevity on fabric is tremendous. Lovely, but sadly not functional enough for this user.
3/5
3/5
Miyako, a winner of The Art and Olfaction Awards 2016, wows me with it's fruity yet earthy opening of dried apricots, swiftly followed by its fresh osmanthus flowers and its compelling and distinct note of rough, animalic leather. When the base creeps up, there is something distinctly green about it. A couple of hours into the drydown, I get an almost chocolatey effect that I find very comforting. I also notice something that smells like incense, as though it is clinging to the skin and hair after having walked out of a sacred temple.
This perfume is like a lesson in abstract art. There are so many notes tumbling around, weaving in and out of one another. You have the darkness of earthy notes and brightness of botanical notes contrasting one another with every fascinating inhalation.
Miyako showcases what perfumers can achieve with modern botanical interpretations of "animalic" notes. The leather note is huge and so believable! I did not see the notes ahead of time, but I when I smelled it, I knew it was leather, and I was surprised because I know Auphorie does not use real animal essences. Please try this if you love love love leather but you do NOT love animal cruelty.
Miyako takes me back to a memory of a thrift shop I poked around when I was last at Tahoe. Sniffing from a distance, the perfume has this old, worn-in scent about it, like the scent of clothes with just a bit of mildew, old books, and old leather jackets that might or might not have been worn by a smoker, but they have definitely been worn. If I put my schnozz close to my skin, I really pick up that beautiful, clean, fruity and sweet osmanthus.
Leather is definitely not my favorite note, but oddly I enjoy the (few) excellent botanical interpretations of it much more than the real animalic stuff. Miyako is one of those perfumes that feels like it becomes part of you, just like your favorite leather jacket. This perfume is beautifully done and cruelty-free. Projection is great. Love it!
This perfume is like a lesson in abstract art. There are so many notes tumbling around, weaving in and out of one another. You have the darkness of earthy notes and brightness of botanical notes contrasting one another with every fascinating inhalation.
Miyako showcases what perfumers can achieve with modern botanical interpretations of "animalic" notes. The leather note is huge and so believable! I did not see the notes ahead of time, but I when I smelled it, I knew it was leather, and I was surprised because I know Auphorie does not use real animal essences. Please try this if you love love love leather but you do NOT love animal cruelty.
Miyako takes me back to a memory of a thrift shop I poked around when I was last at Tahoe. Sniffing from a distance, the perfume has this old, worn-in scent about it, like the scent of clothes with just a bit of mildew, old books, and old leather jackets that might or might not have been worn by a smoker, but they have definitely been worn. If I put my schnozz close to my skin, I really pick up that beautiful, clean, fruity and sweet osmanthus.
Leather is definitely not my favorite note, but oddly I enjoy the (few) excellent botanical interpretations of it much more than the real animalic stuff. Miyako is one of those perfumes that feels like it becomes part of you, just like your favorite leather jacket. This perfume is beautifully done and cruelty-free. Projection is great. Love it!
I had high expectations after trips to Japan where I smelt the real things, Luca Turin's review, and Hermes' Osmanthe Yunnan (which is much closer to the real thing, at least for 20 seconds).
It turned out to be saddle leather and apricot, specifically dried apricot (which I think shares a few notes with leather). It's not a bad accord, and I enjoy wearing this occasionally.
It turned out to be saddle leather and apricot, specifically dried apricot (which I think shares a few notes with leather). It's not a bad accord, and I enjoy wearing this occasionally.
I get a strange mentholated peach accord. Not my favorite. I am reminded of a fresh band aid. There is a plastic note I can't shake. The Osmanthus does come forward after a few minutes but it is mixed with peach. This is just nothing like I want to smell. I guess the plastic note is a deal-breaker for me.
I don't see anything great here and hence am a bit surprised with the hype.
To me it smells like a decent oud oil. Nothing outstanding.
And given the prices of decent oud Miyako is actually a steal. For that it gets a neutral rating.
To me it smells like a decent oud oil. Nothing outstanding.
And given the prices of decent oud Miyako is actually a steal. For that it gets a neutral rating.
Miyako's robust opening showcases a big osmanthus note flanked by apricot and peach. It's sweet, potent, and almost syrupy at times, though it only lasts about 15 minutes before it begins to settle down. At the same time, there is an apparent leather accord in the base which weaves itself in and out of the fragrance, bringing with it a sort of bitterness, and a darker, heavier dimension. It balances Miyako and adds some masculinity to the scent, off-setting the sweet fruit and floral notes that comprise the front. I've found the leather accord in Miyako to be rather capricious; at times it's bold and almost dominant, yet other times it's barely there, lurking somewhere in the background. Oddly, the leather seems strongest in the opening, gradually disappearing (for the most part) over time. Its smell could be likened to the leather of worn, polished furniture; not the rugged saddle and hide variety, but not the chic designer leather jacket either. As the leather subsides, so does the sweet syrupy apricot osmanthus from the opening. The osmanthus takes on a more floral character which is both softer and absolutely beautiful. This might be my favorite stage of Miyako, once everything has settled in, the stronger leather and sweeter fruity aspects now resting behind the osmanthus' more floral dimension. Some white musk and smooth woody notes comprise the base.
Overall, Miyako has a warm, buttery, mellow texture. There's something of a viscous waxiness to it as well, and for this reason it reminds me a bit of some releases by Slumberhouse (Baque, Kiste, Zahd, Sova). It's a heavy scent in the beginning before it mellows, though it's smooth from start to finish. Longevity seems to be about 6 hours with good projection. Miyako has a relaxed feel and although it's very pretty, in no ways is it formal or dressy. I've discovered that I like Miyako a lot and look forward to wearing it this spring. Thumbs up!
Overall, Miyako has a warm, buttery, mellow texture. There's something of a viscous waxiness to it as well, and for this reason it reminds me a bit of some releases by Slumberhouse (Baque, Kiste, Zahd, Sova). It's a heavy scent in the beginning before it mellows, though it's smooth from start to finish. Longevity seems to be about 6 hours with good projection. Miyako has a relaxed feel and although it's very pretty, in no ways is it formal or dressy. I've discovered that I like Miyako a lot and look forward to wearing it this spring. Thumbs up!
Miyako by Auphorie opens with a juicy peachy-apricot osmanthus accord very similar to raw osmanthus absolute oil. Notes of wood, leather and unlit Japanese incense follow suit. At this point Miyako transports me to the Far East.
Imagine walking through a zen monastery. It's open halls lined with yellow robed monks and catching whiffs of their scented prayer beads. In the next room is an osmanthus ikebana arrangement, a bowl of peach, apricot and yuzu sits next to it. It's fruity floral aroma permeate the meditative air. Woody notes mingle from an antique lacquered chest nearby, it's contents full of precious woods and incense.
I am not Buddhist nor I have visited Japan (although I have plans in the future) but this is the imagery that come to my mind. It is easy to perceive this is as just a nicely done fruity floral chyrpe and indeed it is. But to me, it's so much more.
I purchased this based on Mr. Turins lyrical review. And I was not disappointed. Miyako just received the award for 2016 Art and Olfaction Artisan award.
Imagine walking through a zen monastery. It's open halls lined with yellow robed monks and catching whiffs of their scented prayer beads. In the next room is an osmanthus ikebana arrangement, a bowl of peach, apricot and yuzu sits next to it. It's fruity floral aroma permeate the meditative air. Woody notes mingle from an antique lacquered chest nearby, it's contents full of precious woods and incense.
I am not Buddhist nor I have visited Japan (although I have plans in the future) but this is the imagery that come to my mind. It is easy to perceive this is as just a nicely done fruity floral chyrpe and indeed it is. But to me, it's so much more.
I purchased this based on Mr. Turins lyrical review. And I was not disappointed. Miyako just received the award for 2016 Art and Olfaction Artisan award.
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters...But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you choose. But get drunk.
--- Charles Baudelaire
Auphorie Miyako is another viable option. I will not I'm not able to vivisect Miyako, at least not given my (hopefully temporary) severely abbreviated faculties, but this stuff is absolutely narcotic. Dizzying, literally. This should come with a government warning label before it is visited on an innocent population, sapping IQs and compromising SAT scores.
The scent also gives the strange sensation of having a quasi-physical VOLUME. I get that feeling also from, for example, vintage L'Heure Bleue. If you understand that velvety nimbus-like physicality I am referring to in L'Heure Bleue, multiply it by about 1.75.
The complexity of Miyako is plain, but a subtle scent this is not. I frankly cannot imagine wearing it if anything, its uberfeminine - nor can I imagine my wife wearing it. Who could? Perhaps Simonetta Vespucci in Botticell's Venus and Mars. (And it would have precisely the effect on Mars as depicted in that picture.) Or maybe, in a more modern context, Marilyn Monroe in the film Niagara (1953) where she plays a woman deceiving her husband and wears (in the words of the original script) a red dress cut so low you can see her knees.
The fact is, one really cannot be this inebriated all day. But I am happy to own a full bottle and to let out the genie for an occasional enraptured sniff. Beverley Nichols, in his memoir, Father Figure (1972) writes of his first intoxication on Chartreuse: I was exquisitely drunk… I leaned back and apostrophized the gleaming fluid in my glass. That's exactly what I'll do with Miyako.
--- Charles Baudelaire
Auphorie Miyako is another viable option. I will not I'm not able to vivisect Miyako, at least not given my (hopefully temporary) severely abbreviated faculties, but this stuff is absolutely narcotic. Dizzying, literally. This should come with a government warning label before it is visited on an innocent population, sapping IQs and compromising SAT scores.
The scent also gives the strange sensation of having a quasi-physical VOLUME. I get that feeling also from, for example, vintage L'Heure Bleue. If you understand that velvety nimbus-like physicality I am referring to in L'Heure Bleue, multiply it by about 1.75.
The complexity of Miyako is plain, but a subtle scent this is not. I frankly cannot imagine wearing it if anything, its uberfeminine - nor can I imagine my wife wearing it. Who could? Perhaps Simonetta Vespucci in Botticell's Venus and Mars. (And it would have precisely the effect on Mars as depicted in that picture.) Or maybe, in a more modern context, Marilyn Monroe in the film Niagara (1953) where she plays a woman deceiving her husband and wears (in the words of the original script) a red dress cut so low you can see her knees.
The fact is, one really cannot be this inebriated all day. But I am happy to own a full bottle and to let out the genie for an occasional enraptured sniff. Beverley Nichols, in his memoir, Father Figure (1972) writes of his first intoxication on Chartreuse: I was exquisitely drunk… I leaned back and apostrophized the gleaming fluid in my glass. That's exactly what I'll do with Miyako.