L'Oblìo Meo Fusciuni 2017

L’Oblio is a lovely, pleasing perfume, but it lives up to its name – oblivion, forgetfulness – by gliding over the curves and grooves of my brain and out my left ear like a half-remembered thought. And like my half-remembered thought, I am sure it was genius and that the world is all the poorer for not knowing it, but what can I do? It is gone now.

L’Oblio is one of those Meo Fusciuni perfumes that makes you understand how his entire oeuvre is divided into two textures – one ethereal and gossamer-light, the other as dense as wax. L’Oblio belongs to the former category. It is almost maddeningly vague, a whispering thing of spearmint breath, blue bottle Nivea, gum, green tea, Japanese stick incense, and the papery dustiness of old books (benzoin), all extremely pleasant and yet of no definite shape other than a faded memory of those cornstarch-dusted candy cigarettes they would give children in the 1980s. The sourness of old tea hangs around at the end, adding a musty, brackish note that fights back against the nothingness of the scent. Ultimately, though, it amounts to very little, like someone who has their hand raised last in a Teams meeting and realizes too late that everything interesting or important has already been said, so ends up muttering ‘I’d just like to add my support for what Alison said’.

I'm not biased - there are some Fusciuni scents that do not resonate with me, but I can't deny their quality. This one, even if doesn't get in my top tier of Meo best works, it's good nonetheless. Oblivion - the name really is on point. It smells like something vague and hard to catch, but in a good way. The iris here is not the powdery, old aunt kind of iris, it's floreal and nice and blends in perfectly with tobacco and immortelle. Dust is very recognizable too: it smells like you found yourself in another dimension, after you opened a mysterious drawer. Now you do not recognise where you are: it has some weird old fantasy vibes. Somehow, at the same time, it smells as if there was a lipstick note as well. Weird but good.

Oblio is a bone-dry and dusty iris and frankincense scent that carries a lot of the “medicinal” qualities so often found in Meo Fusciuni’s work. If you love the smell of walking into an antique store, this might be for you, especially if you layer it over something more woody.

The scent opens very dry with a dusty pepper, wood and dry citrus peel. The spice is not overwhelming or “sweaty” and really quite enchanting. If you give it some time, you will feel a very well-made dry iris note appear that plays off nicely with the pepper to create this feeling of very soft dust. The iris note reminds me a lot of Iris Nazarena, but here it has a softer edge and is definitely more powdery than papery.

This is where, on my skin, the fragrance sadly takes a turn for the worse. Some nice medicinal and herbal notes appear (I guess this is the mate), and after they sit on the skin, they take on a bit of a “pissy” quality. The frankincense smells a bit damp, and the herbal notes start to whiff in a way that is very reminiscent of rotting mint leaves.

I think this is a pretty multifaceted scent, on each application I was getting a slightly different opening (sometimes heavier on the iris, sometimes more heavy on the woods), but after about two hours on my skin, the scent just falls apart. On paper, it’s really enjoyable, though, so definitely give it a shot.

Performance is adequate for the genre, and unlike many “peppery” fragrances, the sillage is not excessive.

This perfume is like a breath of air—weightless, fleeting, dissolving into the atmosphere like a memory slipping away.
It could’ve been called dream, but dreams are less melancholic, more abstract.
Even the woods—present and grounded—the tobacco, and the immortelle (a name that stings with irony here) can’t anchor the ether of mate, dust, and iris.
To me, this scent leans masculine. Or perhaps more accurately: it carries a quiet masculinity, graceful and elusive.
It’s pleasant, delicate, yet tinged with a sadness we can no longer place.
It smells like an abandoned room, long forgotten, but once so alive that the walls themselves have absorbed its memories.
As strangers in that space, we’re caught between the urge to understand and the confusion of a memory that isn’t ours.
And still, we stay—because oblivion, like memory, can be addictive.

Insta: switzer_scent

L`oblio.

This scent has completely caught me.
It is there, present, strong, male-female and DIFFERENT - so much so that this is worth a review.
For me, a masterpiece.
Meo Fusciuni will be my discovery this evening.
In the damp cold of December.
After a tiring week, pure stress.
In every respect.
Quitting time.
Finally no more calls.
No more chatter about gains and losses.
I can't hear it anymore!!!!!
I walk through the streets, it is dark, damp and cold. Late. I actually want to go home.
Cars rush past me, racing through puddles without regard for others.
A splash of muddy water hits me.
Cold, disgusting, penetrating. I am so angry. F….. off!!

In the distance, I see faint lights, thank God a small local pub offers short shelter. Somehow, everything is irrelevant now.
I enter the pub, dimly lit, musty and a bit seedy, the wooden bar greets me.
In the background, I hear "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller, murmurs and soft laughter from other guests drift over. I settle down and open my rain-soaked jacket. Cursing and shivering, I order a hot tea with rum and just want to have my peace.
I notice a shadow, someone sits down with me.
And there it comes, this scent, this other aura, rushing towards me with force.
I look up, the guy in front of me grins and points to my rain-soaked, dirty clothes. “Yeah, that's how it is, the world is full of a…holes……..“
He talks and talks, but I only perceive this incredible scent.
Masculine incense and woody iris combined with sandalwood and bitter musk. Stunning.
I don't even listen, clouds of incense, tobacco and something herbal cloud my mind, damn, what a scent this is.
How can I get this man to tell me what scent he is wearing without coming off as intrusive….
The man pauses and looks at me questioningly: “Girl, you’re not even listening to me….“
In that moment, it bursts out of me: “True, I’m not really listening to you, but I’m smelling so much more… Cool scent you’re wearing. Somehow different…. Special…“
He hesitates, grins and pulls a small vial from his pocket.
Nods appraisingly and tosses it to me.
“Here, you can have it. I went to the scent maker for my beloved today and he gave me this… Tried it… My wife found it terrible - but you seem to like it….. You can keep it…“
He said, got up and joined his friends in the other corner, probably I was too boring, too dirty or whatever…

I look at the perfume sample. Meo Fusciuni, L`oblio. Hm. Never heard of it ....
A small spray and there it is again, masculine incense, iris and sandalwood put me (almost) in a trance.
My little scent heart leaps with joy.
Noble musk as well as a slightly pungent herbal floral dust join in and make it all so special.
Not feminine and not masculine.
Not too harsh and not too soft - right in the middle and different.
A discovery!
I get up and pay, leave the pub and wave to the guy one more time.
The damp cold night has me again. A taxi stops.
Somewhat warmed and tired, I settle into the back seat, looking forward to my warm four walls at home. Arrived, I get out and pay the taxi driver. He leans forward one more time and says: “You smell damn good, lady. But somehow also different…..“
I grin and wave to him.

Once home, I research this perfumer after a hot shower and I know that this will be my next wish purchase, even if it is priced in the upper segment.

I am looking forward to it.
Anticipation is the greatest joy.
Rain, cold, dirt and impossible drivers are forgotten.
L`oblio will come, powerful, specific and yet peaceful.

The somewhat different scent.

One must always be at least one L`oblio ahead of life. ;-)

-
-