Anise - well… I initially smell more of fennel, including the corresponding sweetness. Even the (botanically related) celery becomes noticeable without any trouble, and only slowly does it drift towards anise. It is pleasantly fresh, avoiding in a nice balance the blatant associations with Ouzo or mundane kitchen scents. There might be a tiny hint of citrus fruit, but it is hardly perceptible; in this top note, it has little to say. The term “licorice” from the descriptions likely plays not only with the proximity of anise, fennel, and sweet wood but I think sweet wood is actually involved here as well.
About half an hour passes before woody-spicy components begin to emerge. It dawns on me that the celery part can be considered a device to equalize the fragrance. With Mistral Patchouli from Atelier Cologne, for example, with its strong anise opening in both senses, the thought of Ouzo simply came to mind. Moreover, I felt at the end that I was listening to a quartet of fragrance notes that, while mixed equally (and tastefully!), was composed of very individual voices. Onice, on the other hand, creates a link with the celery idea early on that transitions into the woodier progression. Do Italian fragrances need that merging?
By late morning, a gently woody blend of warm spice on the threshold of peppery-smoky and scratchy geranium is reached. An extravagant floral aura - as soapy-clean-metallic as it is lush-sensual - envelops the fragrance. I struggle to attribute it to specific ingredients, even when I read the pyramid. It could be anything, perhaps more of some things.
The uniqueness of the beginning has unfortunately been lost, and ‘Onice’ has now become quite classic. But still good! It reveals a second quality: It carries me through several hours of the office day in stable spice, still garnished with freshness.
Once a few hours of standard daily work are accomplished, there remains - possibly in the afternoon - a little time for the extra: Working on something nice (if possible), something more relaxing. In line with this, the fragrance takes on a floral-sweet note. Jasmine and sandalwood, gently pricked, like a nano-drop of baking aroma vanilla.
Gradually, into the evening, the fragrance then settles on a final, thoroughly creamy base. I smell bright-clean (not sterile!) musk, which had already hinted at itself around noon. Alongside it, a trace of honeyed sweetness. Casual and refined.
Conclusion: Original freshness in the morning to wake up, solid, noble spice for office bread-and-butter during the day, a touch of extravagance to unwind in the afternoon, creamy calm in the evening. Successful. And somehow very Italian.
That sounds surprisingly appealing. I would have guessed another vegetable soup creation based on the pyramid as well. But if it keeps you entertained throughout the day, it must have something special about it. Thanks for testing it out, and thanks to Gerdi for the sample that brought us this comment.
In my notes, I only wrote: Crunchy-herbaceous licorice candy!