Vetiver Lorenzo Villoresi 1994

It smells very natural and is used in a way that actually feels like it was unleashed in this creation.
It is not the restrained and l reserved vetiver that we know and are used to.
It is the vetiver pumped with horomones - so to speak - type .

A wonderfully uncompromising vetiver scent: herbal-bitter green of damp forest herbs, mossy old tree trunks, heavy black earth, smoldering leaves in autumn fog. If Creed's Bois du Portugal is early October, we have late November here. Sheer masculinity, only the howling of wolves is missing. However, Villoresi manages the feat of putting the rugged trapper in a tuxedo, as an elegant rosewood note runs through this primeval forest despite all its bluntness.

Lorenzo Villoresi's Vetiver was a scent experience of a completely different kind for me. Yes, scents are perceived very differently depending on skin type. But in this case, I must speak not of a fragrance, but of an unpleasant smell, better said: stench (in my opinion)!

The opening on my skin produced an unpleasant odor of ash, resinous, smoky, slightly pungent, smelling faintly of fresh earth and ultimately hard to bear. A freshness of bergamot and orange did not occur for me at all; the transition to the heart note was characterized by a monosyllabic resinous, smoky, and still pungent earthy smell, albeit with a very subtle floral note.

After about two hours, the dominant ash smell finally faded into the background, and with the base note, woody aromas developed with a fine fougère accord, albeit only weakly. Now the other side of this vetiver reveals itself, which is now quite bearable. The "smell" finally transforms into a fragrance - a bouquet of green herbs, noble wood with spicy dark-bitter, but also edgy aromas.

Conclusion: A very individual vetiver that can smell completely different on each person. In my opinion, this fragrance is also very dependent on mood. Those seeking solitude will find this vetiver just right, but should not be surprised if conversation partners take a big step back when they perceive the smell of an ash bucket.

The sillage: relatively weak!
The longevity: less than five hours - depending on skin type!
Bottle: tasteful design!
Wearable for a very individual male audience!

Somehow, I can't believe it when I look at the pyramid - is this supposed to be a vetiver perfume? Or did something go wrong when filling my sample?

I primarily smell cinnamon - a very nice cinnamon note, round, opulent, and accompanied by something citrusy - and by vetiver. The vetiver grass here is initially the supporting note, not the main focus. The vetiver is thus treated like in a women's perfume. It brings a bit of green and sourness from the back, but is far from bringing its own herbaceousness to the forefront.

Is there really no cinnamon in here? Do all the other components somehow magically manage to make it smell so much like cinnamon?

I don't know, I find all of this very mysterious. However, I do like it, even if it doesn't fit at all with my idea of a vetiver scent. Be that as it may, this vetiver is something for winter. For cozy afternoons by the fireplace. Very relaxing, round, and soft. It doesn't smell much like Christmas, rather pleasantly musty like a visit to an esoteric bookstore. I think it could appeal to fans of Neil Morris's hippie perfumes. Among Neil Morris fragrances, it resembles the cinnamon note in Midnight Tryst the most.

It takes almost an hour for the cinnamon to settle a bit and give the slightly sour vetiver a bit more space. Also, oak moss, wood, patchouli, and a bit of musk suddenly push through. Now it starts to get fun. The vetiver now appears increasingly noble, somehow more alcoholic and also more assertive. A very special, sweet herbal liqueur is being poured! And the character is shifting now - from the hippie-like incense stick scent to something more masculine and pronounced.

This vetiver is a real surprise. But it does require a certain degree of open-mindedness. The general vetiver taste - at least mine - is too heavily influenced by Guerlain. Those who cannot detach themselves from that will find Villoresi's Vétiver very strange or even disturbing. But this fragrance is definitely an enrichment for vetiver lovers.

Here could be the home of "Catweazle," a somewhat peculiar, quirky, good-natured druid from a nearly forgotten family series.
The good man lived in a wooden, creaky hut in the midst of a Celtic forest, and was always there with his refreshing potions whenever help was needed.
This wonderful "oddball" of a fragrance is such a Catweazle-like magical brew that is initially bitter, and then, after a few minutes, becomes a pleasantly interesting elixir for the nose and soul.
The first impression is: herbal. Sharp essences from the autumn's herbal abundance.
Ripe, crushed caraway seeds mixed with the juice of the celery root, sage leaves drive away "evil spirits," and nutmeg makes the blend almost warm-spicy.
"Sage... dalbei....adomei..." whispers the quirky old man while stirring his mixture, chuckling a few times in a good-naturedly mischievous and softly grumbling manner.
"He- He Hehhhhh"..."he "grumbles" while tasting. "D-d-da ffehlt noch www-was"
"AA--Haa, I know it now" DDDie autumnal sssstttimmungg. Something VVVetyverggras, uh, MMmooos from dddem Heiiiliggen Eichenwwwald, ah, ZZeder, uund.... Pattchouuuliii" he chatters. But the chattering is misleading.
Catweazle is as fresh as a twenty-year-old...
And his soothing elixir also pretends to be inedible... but in truth, it turns out to be a wonderfully herbal, grassy-spicy-woody greeting from his autumnal enchanted forest.