The opening is a bright-ish citrus and herbal note that is a tad on the undifferentiated side, and is soon joined by an iris impression that is agreeable not not particularly distinguishing itself.
Later in the drydown the whole combination thins out, and at times it is rather generic and uninspiring. Then, after the first five hours or so, a twist towards the gourmand occurs. It is heralded by a very restrained balsamic note, a darkish-green balsam that is very fine, neither ceremonial nor spicy, and not very medicinal either.
Then a cocoa arrives, later with a light chocolate undertone, and a well-behaved vanilla with a teeny-weeny but of oud - an olfactoric microscope is needed to detect the latter. This is the most convincing part of this product's development, smooth, round, neither cloying nor intrusive - as a matter of fact this always remains a restrained and at times nearly faint fragrance.
I get moderate sillage, a somewhat limited projection and an very impressive eleven hours of
longevity on my skin.
This autumnal scent is a bit of a mixed bag then. At times too generic, and times very well done, especially the second half, which seems to be composed of good-quality ingredients. Overall 2.5/5.
Fantastic smelling scent that smells like a very well done and crafted designer scent to my nose.
That's not a knock at all, just stating that for a niche offering this is definitely a highly likable, people pleaser type fragrance. I don't usually like to smell too different or avant garde, so I generally don't dabble too much in the niche realm. But this was a wonderful surprise. Sadly, it's only drawback is it's price point.....too much $'s per ml IMHO.
Kurkdjian pulls a Bond No 9, basically a cheap-smelling mainstream masculine cliche, but highly concentrated and expensive. It's got those stereotypical topnotes that smell like grape drink mixed with Windex, paired with ginger for added brightness. The drydown is your standard metallic "woody amber" with a touch of cheap vanilla and papery tobacco. This would be derivative drivel at $20. At $200, it's at best an in joke, but most likely a desperate attempt to cash in on people who don't know perfume but want something expensive.
Amyris is probably the most mainstream smelling of any MFK fragrance I've tried, though that's not really a knock against it. It just smells familiar, like you wouldn't be surprised if you found yourself sniffing it on a tester strip somewhere in the mall. It lends itself to the masculine woody/tonka fragrances that have been all over the place for the last several years, but it sets itself apart because it's so much better than most of them. When I apply it, I get a good dose of...amyris (surprise!) and tonka, but I'm also able to pick up on coffee, some chocolate, and iris. What results is a very attractive and well-polished, sweet, masculine fragrance that seems like it would be easy to wear just about anywhere. It's really a very appealing smell, and constructed with a smooth touch. I think it would be great to wear to the office, and even better on a date or for a night out. Whether it's worth the price or not depends on what you're looking for. While you won't be breaking any ground with Amyris, you'll still smell very nice. It's also important to note that after you get over the initial "familiarity" of Amyris, it really takes on its own character and begins to smell like itself. Projection and longevity are good. If you enjoy Amyris but would prefer a cheaper alternative, consider sampling Ambre by Baldessarini, Mankind by Kenneth Cole, or Givenchy Play Intense. They achieve a similar effect at a fraction of the price.
Genre: Woody Oriental
The idea of amyris (West Indian sandalwood, elemi) and iris is an interesting one, but the execution here is simply too unrelievedly sweet and foody for me to enjoy. Bright citrus top notes usher in the central elemi and iris accord, which is heavily sweetened with cocoa, coconut, and coffee. The use of balsamic wood and coffee brings to mind Maître Parfumeur et Gantier’s masterful Santal Noble, but that scent is both drier and far less “edible” smelling than Amyris Homme. Powdery sweetness persists through the drydown, which leans heavily on tonka and soft, buttery iris root. Of the listed oudh I sense very little, which is a shame, since its medicinal edge would go far to counterbalance the composition’s borderline cloying sweetness. Gourmand lovers may enjoy this scent more than I do, but I find it one of the less attractive offerings in Francis Kurkdjian’s generally outstanding line.
Crisp, chirpy, and utterly conventional. The overriding impression I take away from Amyris Homme is of a citrus-rosemary accord common to legions of ‘masculines’ done in an ‘aqua’ manner, dipped in tonka sweetness and sitting on that horribly piercing wood base that is the bane of several designer offerings – here given the glib appellation Modern Woods (put that in your pipe and smoke it!).
There was a brief redeeming moment when a sandpapery coffee spooned lovingly with the woods but it soon got drowned. I haven’t a clue what amyris blossoms smell like – but on this evidence I’m not any wiser.
I’m afraid I have to join the chorus that’s singing this is generic designer ware not worthy of MFK.