Viole Nere Meo Fusciuni 2023

Viole Nere is difficult for me to describe because while I am used to iris perfumes that lean towards violet (Iris de Nuit, Moulin Rouge, Infusion d’Iris Absolue), I am less used to violet perfumes that behave like an iris rhizome – earthy, cold, buttery, leathery, slightly smoky – and yet are still completely and unmistakably a violet. Each time I wear it, I come away with something slightly different. Sometimes, the sharp, botanical stemminess of the green notes up front make me think of the opening of Iris 39 (Le Labo); other times, I get that bitty, mineralic frankincense powder that holds the violet notes aloft in Maria Candida Gentile’s Exultat.

Nonetheless, there is always a moment in Viole Nere’s transition that makes me think of the green-grey hay notes, powdery moss, and impressionistic jonquils of a grander, more fin de siecle perfume than the surely artisan effort I hold in my hands. The thought that Imprezzabile has somehow knocked up a violet-inflected Vol de Nuit in a charmingly hoky, cluttered workshop far removed from the precision-engineered formulas, weighing scales, and strip lighting of Guerlain’s labs and compounders enters my head and nothing shakes it loose again. Conscious that’s a wild thing to say. Allow me to condition it by saying that Viole Nere doesn’t smell like Vol de Nuit, per se, just that it performs the same trick as the Guerlain does of being at once superbly naturalistic and perfectly abstract, a sort of pointilism of lilac, violet, grey, and green notes.

There is no Guerlinade here, though. Though slightly powdery and earthy, there is more incense dust than cosmetic powder, and no vanilla in sight. Instead, the drydown of Viole Nere features a rubbery, latex-like musk molecule similar to the one that also rounds out Fleur de Peau (Diptyque), as well as another Meo Fusciuni scent, Encore du Temps. It feels a little like a dusty leather or suede in places. This gives Viole Nere a far more streamlined and modern finish than any Guerlain I know. (It’s also safe to say that lovers of Stephen Jones x Comme des Garcons would find Viole Nere an attractive proposition.)

And you know, despite the billing, neither does the perfume strike me as particularly dark. A touch moody, sure – damp violets in a mossy forest clearing, with all the lengthening and shortening of shadows that implies. But even then, I would call it ‘romantic’ or ‘wistful’ before I would call it ‘dark’. I think a good analogy would be L’Heure Bleue (Guerlain) or De Profundis (Serge Lutens). Like those perfumes, while Viole Nere is a serious, deeply emotive perfume, it feels more serene and pastoral than dark. Anyway, enough blathering – Viole Nere is my favourite from the Meo Fusciuni sample set and the only one that makes me feel compelled to own it.

Viole Nere from Meo Fuschiuni is a wistful Rilke poem of a violet. I will say I really love violet, though most I’ve encountered smell very similar, dainty, and delicate in either a powdery or an earthy spring rain-way. Viole Nere, while similarly subtle, presents differently than those nostalgic candied pastilles or small, damp purple blooms. It’s the gossamer violet bruised and thrumming ache of never-quite-becomings, the bittersweet vetiver musk of breathless possibilities half-glimpsed, the gentle, mossy patchoulied decay of late autumn’s dying reminder that things unlived also have their season, their own quiet beauty. A melancholic wisp of frankincense dissipates like phantom ink on pages no one will ever read, a yearning ode to an elusive beloved who never arrived, who was lost from the start.

With “Viole Nere”, Meo Fusciuni is again successfully creating a fragrance that delivers both an absolute clarity of intent and an open-endedness that allows each wearer to make this fragrance their own. This is the pinnacle of the gothic imagination of elegance, more black lace-adorned boudoir than decaying cathedral.

Juicy and almost jam-like violets combine with a classic powdery iris note, and together with a subtle mineral earthiness project a multifaceted image that goes from gothic funeral march to grandma’s precious violet soap. Meo Fusciuni blesses us with another banger.
The fragrance opens with pink pepper and a foresty freshness that creates space for a very rich bouquet of violets and soapy purple florals. The violet is juicy and fresh, and to me lives separately from a light powdery note brought by the iris. The powderyness is a bit mineral and soapy, and quite hard to place (in a good way).

As the wear progresses, the violet really comes out together with a squeaky-clean florality and a distant but powerful rose that carries a bit of a dry quality. The spice and implied smoke of the opening fade completely as musk and resins creep out. If there is patchouli, it’s more on the bubblegum variety, reminding me a bit of the drydown of Odor 93 .

The scent is mostly an intimate affair but is still noticeable at arm's length. Performance is more than adequate, and the quality of the fragrance also changes quite a lot based on what your skin is doing, some wear is more heavy on the powder, and others are a bit more juicy.

I went from not being a lover of violets to being super passionate about them. Especially when worked by Meo Fusciuni.

I love how the perfume opens and initially seems like an old-fashioned perfume because when we talk about violets and iris we think of that, but it sweeps us off our feet and transports us to something much more gothic and melancholic in an elegant way.
It's not a heavy perfume, but so present that it leaves a lasting aura around us, like a ghost that keeps reminding us of its presence. It's truly a black violet.

Viole Nere begins with a beautiful Iris similar to the Dior Homme eau de toilette in its original version. And then very quickly it forks into a textured violet, blackcurrant, petit grain and sumptuously chains up to the woody patchouli, oak moss and sandalwood reminiscent of the soil coming out of winter. A gothic atmosphere but soft of a chiaroscuro in a form reinterpreted in our time.
This perfume makes me think of these traditional silhouettes of women from southern Europe dressed in black from head to toe as illustrated in the advertisements for the alcoholic aperitif Porto Cruz. The perfumer has also associated a subtle note of cognac in its composition.
Violette Nere is a dark perfume where black is light.
Undoubtedly one of the top 4 of this confidential Italian perfumery house.