3# Nota di Viaggio (Ciavuru d'Amuri) Meo Fusciuni 2019

I think I have found my holy grail fig perfume....the newly released reformulated version of Meo Fusciuni’s 3# nota di viaggio (Ciavuru d’amuri). Because of new restrictions on a couple of materials he used in the original eau de toilette, rather than discontinue the perfume altogether he decided to reformulate it and make it an eau de parfum. 3# nota di viaggio is a tribute to Meo Fusciuni’s mother and his homeland of Sicily, so it’s clearly not something he wanted to do away with because of some regulations, so instead he made an amped up version of the previous one which is more powerful, not only in strength but in feeling. It opens much greener and has an almost boozy, smoothly bitter aromatic quality, there is more heft in the base and structure, and the overall fragrance is more complex and dynamic. There is a very realistic leafy green aspect coming from the fig leaf, and enhanced by artemisia, it has an almost absinthe like quality to it. This is balanced by a beautiful jasmine, creamy ylang ylang, and in the base there is the addition of benzoin and woods along with the original incense. The overall feel of the perfume is heavier, but it still retains that sort of ethereal quality about it. But it’s not as simple as the sort of pure, white light feeling of the original, although that aspect is still included, it is more herbaceous, there is more creaminess, a gentle touch of smokiness, and a slight bit more masculinity in the base which makes it more solidly unisex. I believe this aspect was added to reflect his father as well, or family as a whole. The entire fragrance is beautifully balanced and maybe the most classically structured perfume he has done. There is such a beautiful quality about it, very refined, almost pristine, but it still carries that feeling of joy and contentment of the original. A perfect example of a reformulation done right.

Something about this perfume is so incredibly nostalgic to me that I am not sure if I can review it objectively. Perhaps it is because it smells green, aromatic, and gently powdered to begin with, making me think of mimosa or Cassie flower, as well as the figs my Montenegrin mother in law picks from her tree before drying them and rolling them in a mixture of cornstarch and powdered sugar. Or perhaps it is because there is a ylang material in there that smells like the slightly dry, smoky leather accent in Cuir de Russie or the post-2015 Mitsouko. Whatever it is, it brings me right back to when I lived in the Mediterranean (Sicily, Montenegro), and, more than a place, to a time in my life when I was beginning to really discover perfume (or really great perfume), with that starchy ylang-mimosa like material acting as my own personal Proustian madeleine.

Objectively speaking, though, what I think makes this perfume great is that the perfumer connects the scent of ripe figs and the coarse, fruity creaminess of ylang via a note of rubber. Fig perfumes can be woody and coconutty (Philosykos) or astringent and pissy-fresh (Ninfeo Mio) but if you focus intently enough, you will notice that they are always, always slightly rubbery underneath the sweet, green freshness. A milky, sappy kind of rubber. The fig in #3 is far less green, woody, or coconutty than other examples, in that it smells warm and closely textured like the flesh inside the fruit, and as clean like a fig note in a clarifying shampoo. But there is a lingering undercurrent – subtle but present – of a gentle rubber, dusted with a fine white powder of unknown origin.

This accent connects so seamlessly with the grapey, fuel-y rubbery-ness of that ylang that you hardly notice that the core note has shifted from fig to ylang, from fruit to flower. I think it’s because these notes, that we think of as creamy or liquid, are quite dry here, drained of their essential humidity as the scent progresses. But there’s more to this scent than this skillful transition. These core accords are bathed in this gentle, herbal aura that is half sugared aniseed, and half resin dust – the kind of resins that have a cleansing, antiseptic character, like elemi or pine sap. #3 is not too much of one thing or the other, in fact, its defining character being that of having no fixed character at all. This is an ethereal changeling that makes you chase it down one leg of a maze and then another, smelling of completely different things from one wear to the next. Out of all the Nota di Viaggio series, #3 is the one that has charmed me the most.

This must be the best fig fragrance I have smelled. One of those perfumes that take me on a scent journey.
‘I roast figs with orange rind and juice, drizzled with honey. I look forward to having them later with some vanilla ice-cream. The scent of the roasted figs fills the rooms. Frankinsence is burning in the corner…’

[Subjective]
I’m reviewing this as an outsider to this genre. I love figs, but not on my skin. That said, there was enough richness and depth in the presentation here to entice me.

This is a very creamy, almost powdery and floral interpretation of fig. You don’t get a juicy succulent fig, but rather more of the feeling of sitting under a fig tree on a late summer night. The fig is balanced with a super buttery jasmine that I’m guessing is supposed to conjure the image of the fig flower. I like it, but beware of its indolic nature if you are sensitive to that. It doesn’t smell like other jasmine scents you might be used to, and that’s really intriguing.

On your search for the perfect fig fragrance, this definitely should be on your list, but to me, it misses the intrigue and depth that other Meo Fusciuni fragrances carry.

[Development]
Opens round, sweet and fruity. You get the fig right away, together with the mysterious and creamy jasmine note. It’s all very dark and a bit wilted (in a good way), like a couple of figs have started to decompose on the tree. Then you get to appreciate the subtle vanilla caramel sweetness that rounds out this profile perfectly.

As it sits, the floral blends with the other notes, focusing the image on this fig. A cramy and silky dried fig that’s right in between edible and ornamental. A deep green note completes the image here with a faint bitterness.

The scent remains pretty linear from here on out, although the indole becomes more noticeable towards the drydown in an unpleasant way, at least on my skin.

[Performance]
Performance is adequate. It’s no bomb, but that’s ok. On my skin, I get 4-6 solid hours of enjoyment, but the last couple of hours of wear become weak. Definitely an intimate scent as it only projects in the first hour or so. The good thing is that it remains pleasant throughout the entire wear!

Behind this fragrance lies a beautiful, almost melancholic story from the perfumer. He dedicates the creation to his Sicilian homeland, and the name translates to "scent of love." For him, it is a deeply personal journey back to his childhood, specifically to his grandmother's garden, where he spent carefree days in the shade of a massive fig tree. With the individual notes, he aims to create a bridge from the milky-green fig at sunny noon to the white blossoms, the harsh incense, and the warm woods in the evening, which remind him of traditional Sicilian summer processions.

From a purely craftsmanship perspective, one must commend Meo Fusciuni: The goal of capturing this emotional, sun-drenched image of memory olfactorily has been achieved masterfully.

The fragrance starts directly with a distinctive, floral-powdery, and at the same time very green character.

When I think of this fragrance, I imagine walking through a wild flowerbed on a hot day. You reach for one of the large, white flowers and snap it off. Before you smell the delicate, powdery petals, you catch a brief whiff of that very specific, harsh, almost woody-dry scent of the freshly broken plant stem, from which a tiny drop of sticky plant sap still clings. Only after that does the soft aroma of the actual blossom greet you. This interplay of raw, woody plant nature and powdery floral notes defines the opening.

As the fragrance develops, it becomes clear that it follows the evolution he described. Towards the end, the composition noticeably warms up. The herbal-green element from the beginning almost completely recedes and is replaced in the drydown by warm woods and a fine note of incense that beautifully embraces the remaining powdery sweetness.

Although I absolutely respect the artistic achievement and the emotion behind the fragrance, the DNA does not suit my personal taste. I am simply not a big fan of overly floral-powdery directions. When it comes to the theme of "green fig," there are simply stronger alternatives on the market for me, such as the phenomenal Phylosikos by Diptyque. And for those looking, as described in the perfumer's text, for something more in the milky-creamy fig direction, I feel that the new Fico di Amalfi La Riserva by Acqua di Parma is a better choice.

A fascinating, top-notch artisanal work that conveys a bittersweet Sicilian nostalgia. Those who seek very floral, powdery fragrances with a melancholic, botanical-green undertone will love this emotional journey. For me personally, it remains a beautiful painting that I prefer to admire from a distance rather than wear myself.