Ferré by Ferré Gianfranco Ferré 1991 Eau de Toilette

The black ball that I am currently holding is one of two that my mother acquired during our annual trips to Italy in the early nineties. In my youth, my parents first traveled to South Tyrol for many years, then to the Adriatic, and surely my great love for Italy was born on the days when we explored one of the wonderful cities instead of the beach: Gothic city palaces and churches, Campari and espresso on the bustling piazza - Italy seemed to me, in comparison to my always rainy home in North Rhine-Westphalia, like paradise, more precisely: my paradise: culture and history in every inch.
On one of those days, we strolled through the arcades of an old Italian town equipped with a fantastic marketplace and - obviously - a good perfumery. Unfortunately, I don’t remember where that could have been, probably in the Marche, where we spent our vacation. I know that my mother bought the black ball that day. Because she liked it so exceptionally well, we returned to that perfumery a few days later and bought another black ball. My mother stored it in my bathroom in later years to always have her perfume on hand when she visited me. By now, my mother has grown very old and she cares little for perfumes as she does for many other material things. A few weeks ago, when I showed her the ball that I had kept, she remembered that she once owned it and gave it to me. Since then, I have cherished it and today I only tried it out to once again experience this scent:

It is an incredibly elegant fragrance that emanates from the ball. Because it is so black and has stood in my bathroom for many years in a cabinet, the scent has been perfectly preserved and envelops me with a tremendous, powerful wave of the most elegant aldehydes. So deep, so dark, and yet so sparkling and effervescent, this wave is like the countless sequins on a deep black evening gown when the light of grand chandeliers falls upon it. Instead of a dark, heavy mass, this fragrance seems to sparkle and float - infinitely soft and profound, rich and velvety, it lays itself over my skin. The fruity and Chypre components are hardly perceivable individually, yet the abundance of ingredients is probably responsible for the effect of moving sparkle: The scent particles unfold not all at the same speed and not with the same intensity, but all at the same time. Thus, the fragrance remains in a shimmering motion for a longer time, which is responsible for its softness: With all the depth with which it welcomes me, it caresses me.
Take a look at this pyramid: It contains everything that could characterize a fragrance: Bitter citrus notes and Chypre-like, green notes. Fruits and flowers and full blooms of all kinds. Resins and spices, woods and musk. And vanilla and tonka. This fragrance is a cornucopia of perfumery art, a kaleidoscope of the most diverse tones, nuances, impressions, associations. Fresh and marked by bright flowers, by heavy, dark blooms, and by green, soft, flowing, and sweet elements. Up to the base, which presents itself infinitely balanced, maintaining the perfect balance between resins and woods and vanilla, my nose has perceived so many different impressions simultaneously that I feel intoxicated by the beauty of the fragrance. And above all, let it be repeated, these wonderfully powdery aldehydes, which give the fragrance its grandeur and prominence, comparable especially to the famous No. 5. An evening fragrance.
How did my mother know this? Perfume was never her world, yet with this fragrance, she hit the jackpot and it became her signature. A mature, adult, and so exciting scent. I will always associate it with my mother and will only wear it on very special occasions. My mother was not a woman who experienced festive ball nights. Yet such nights are needed to wear this jewel in the future.