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05/20/2025
ClaireV
731 Reviews
ClaireV
1
Elegiac beauty
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.
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.
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