Another odd, artistic creation from Tauer, Lonestar Memories certainly conjures the notion of leather, but is certainly not a leather-dominant fragrance on my skin, with leather being the key note among others: myrrh gives it an incense vibe, tonka gives it a nutty sweetness, and vetiver gives it an earthiness.
I get far more leather in the opening than in the dry down, which is greener and more tonka-laden. Still, the leather/myrhh combination resonates hours into the lifespan of the fragrance, and it is perhaps this particularly sharp combination that I regard as a bit off-putting. Not even the tonka is enough to sweeten it to the point I like the blend. I imagine many enjoy this blend, though, as it strikes me not as bad, but simply slightly different from something I would enjoy, perhaps in need of a few tweaks for me, but downright perfect for someone else.
Performance is good, with a very strong opening and initial hour, and decent longevity for an EDT.
6 out of 10
For the record, I adored Tauer's L'Air du Desert Marocain and would have bought a bottle in a heart beat, but I drew the line at the cost. Only for Chanel and Guerlain would I spend that kind of money.
Lonestar Memories is the second Tauer I have experienced. It begins for me with a very sweet leather accord, followed by a bitter rotting carcase smell, quickly followed by burnt caramel. It rounds itself out in the first five minutes to smoky birch tar with a sweetish under scent. If you ever made your own sausages, the combo of "Liquid Smoke" and commercial barbecue sauce would approximate it.
There are vintage chypres which have evaporated to a dark, thick, black syrup residue that remind me of Lonestar Memories. While I admire the composition, I would not want to wear it.
When I first tried this, my wife said "That stinks, get away from me!". After the burnt rubber subsided a bit, she reckoned "It smells like Morocco, like a Moroccan souk. But it still stinks." (she knows nothing about Tauer). Personally I quite like Lonestar Memories despite the admittedly tough opening (which reminds me of the day my washing machine broke down in a cloud of smoke).
11th February, 2016 (last edited: 15th February, 2016)
Lonestar Memories features an almost overpowering smoky leather note at the beginning, like a leather jacket tossed onto a campfire. Its black, rubbery thrust might seem too monolithic were it not for the minty geranium leaf and an orangey myrrh shooting though it, letting down the density of the smoke to an acceptable level. The opening is thrilling and evocative, but there’s no beating around the bush here - it’s wild enough to scare the horses.
But Lonestar Memories isn’t a perfume built purely on the shock value of its topnotes. The smoke note here is rich, full, and rubbed with sage, so despite the general industrial bent to the leather note (tar, creosote, tarpaulins, motor engine oil), there is a refreshing whiff of the great outdoors too. It’s a macho, dry perfume built on a HUMONGOUS scale, as broad in scope as a prairie. A fragrance for dreamers and wanderers.
For me, Lonestar Memories only really hits its stride when it enters the dry down. The smoke note settles, and becomes just one more layer in the rich leather, a tiny prickle of birch tar there to remind us that this is no ladies’ glove type of leather. There is real beauty in the quality of the myrrh here. It is soapy, antiseptic and slightly bitter in that black, oily way that myrrh oil is, so one gets the pleasant impression of having washed one’s hands with coal tar soap. If you are someone like me who grew up with that soap, then this stage will be a real rush to the head. It also has a licorice-like facet to it.
Teamed with the smoky but now smooth leather, and a gummy floral note (jasmine?), the myrrh provides a shot of almost bitter soapiness that reads as very necessary against the white, creamy amber in the background. The opening is riveting, but the delicious, long dry down is what keeps me coming back for more.
Would I buy a bottle? Probably not. Not because I don’t think it is beautiful or striking, because I do, but because it is such a strongly “environmental” fragrance, by which I mean that it conjures up an entire slice of Americana – a prairie, a dust bowl, a tire shop with oily mechanics – and so I feel it doesn’t really fit in with the type of life I lead.
But I treasure my sample of it. Now, rather than wearing it on my skin, I prefer to soak a blotter in Lonestar Memories and place it into my jeans pocket or underneath the desk lamp in my office so that I can enjoy its rich, smoky, cowboy-chaps scent all day long without the commitment of skin time. Perfect.
Well I'll be hornswoggled, if this ain't a smell to rustle up some memories in an old timer like me. Reminds me of 'West', that cowboy scent of the 1970's, close partner to Brut if I remember right. Now that one was like baked beans cookin' over a campfire out on the prairie, a real American smell. But they tell me this un's made by some son of a gun in Switzerland, or some such place. Well I'll be.