Fresco di Vetiver Spezierie Palazzo Vecchio Eau de Parfum

The handsome man in his mid-thirties had washed ashore on the southern coast of Sicily near Siracusa. The corpse could not have been in the water for long; the suit seemed to fit perfectly, and in the inner pocket was a document that helped clarify his identity. However, who might have wanted him dead remained a mystery at first.

Commissario Parfumetti was exhausted. For days there had been no leads on the mysterious woman they had stumbled upon. Whenever a crime occurred that required investigation by scent, with fragrance trails at the center of the search, it was clear that only a perfume lover was suitable for further inquiries. "This is a case for our Parfumetti," his colleagues would say with an ironic tone.

Even at the first sighting of the body at the crime scene, Parfumetti had realized that only a crime of passion was possible. The deceased not only had a clean bullet hole in the middle of his forehead; he also bore traces of smudged lipstick on the collar, lapel, and neck - and as a sarcastic message from his murderer, the word "infedele" was written on his forehead in dark red lipstick. "A murderer with a sense of drama and humor," Parfumetti thought amusedly.

And then there was this fragrance in a small unlabeled vial in the right pocket of the jacket… Clearly: a vetiver scent, likely designed for men, but with a soft note, a subtle, almost gentle yet distinctive aura. He would be able to sniff it out among dozens of other vetiver fragrances. The scent left a powdery sillage, reminiscent of the interiors of baroque palaces, of the flowing gowns of the 17th century, but also of the strict gardens of that time with their pruned nature, in a sense captured beauty and clear aesthetic forms, whose wild growth was tamed. "A man with a sense of taste," flashed through his mind. Or a gift from his murderer?

Shortly thereafter, he had picked up the trail of a suspect; a witness claimed to have seen her at the crime scene, knew her name vaguely, but got tangled in contradictions when describing the person.

Even in the stairwell of the old building, he had sensed the same fragrance: vetiver, but also confusing floral notes that were responsible for an androgynous aura, a violet apparently, perhaps a hint of melancholic nostalgic rose, especially the lily of the valley he loved so much, which also performed exceptionally well in men's fragrances (only the ignorant denied this) and finally a soft base that could only have been differentiated if one could stand directly in front of the wearer...

However, the opportunity for direct contact had not yet arisen. The apartment had been broken into, everything had been searched, traces of a hasty but professional break-in found, hardly anything usable - and again only this scent, everywhere, permeating the apartment, lingering in the abandoned clothes. No doubt: she herself wore this fragrance, wanted to surround herself with a subtle aura of masculinity that surely suited her, emphasizing her danger, her unpredictability. A men's fragrance, made for a mysterious woman.

While Parfumetti was still pondering this thought, in a sense already envisioning the woman before him, brunette, dark eyes, a strict pantsuit, elegant patent leather shoes, a small-caliber weapon in her handbag, he did not notice how this pale, blonde yet inconspicuous young woman with sneakers and water-blue eyes followed him into the café, patiently waiting until he had finished his espresso and headed towards the restroom.

A faint click - his instincts were as sharp as ever - made him pause when opening the restroom door and reach for his weapon; the scent of a noble, almost baroque vetiver fragrance in his nose, he hurriedly turned around with a bad premonition, - but the last thing he saw were water-blue eyes and the muzzle of a pistol aimed at his forehead.

I was curious about the scent because I recently treated myself to Limone di Sizilia and wanted to test more from the brand.
With Fresco di Vetiver, I have asked myself several times in the past few days whether I like it or not. It has that certain something; otherwise, I wouldn't have spent so much time with it. A fragrance that you must constantly smell.

Lilac and lily of the valley hit me right away. Just as quickly as the curve rises, it falls again. There's a tingling in the nose. A small, brief freshness kick, comparable to inhaling eucalyptus/camphor, clears the nose additionally.
Immediately after, the scent becomes creamy green; I can perceive the vetiver well. But this earthy tone is by no means too much or intrusive for me.

The next facet then puzzled me. In combination with the arriving dry-powdery sandalwood, it smells to me like a medicinal ointment. It’s unusual, and I like it. I feel the same way as my husband, who said he had smelled it before but couldn't place it.
I have the impression that the fragrance unfolds more and more, becoming warmer and more soothing. The sillage is very good on my skin.

Fresco di Vetiver has an exciting scent development and is also wearable by women, in my opinion.
I will not be purchasing it, but I am happy with the sample, which I can enjoy for some time.

The name Fresco die Vetiver piqued my curiosity. Vetivers come in many variations, usually with spicy or woody notes. It is rather rare for vetiver to be associated with fresh scents.

Well, freshness is a relative term. Synthetic fresh notes, aldehydes, or calone are not officially present here. To convey a sense of freshness, the composition primarily relies on a few fresh-citrus notes in the top. This accord is rather bright, yellow-green, and delicate. There is acidity, but not too strong. And that’s about it for the freshness. Soon, a base of dry sandalwood makes its presence known. The listed floral notes are quite a jumble. I certainly don’t smell anything distinct from them. Overall, the floral component plays the role of a subordinate companion in this fragrance.

And the vetiver? Well, if you know it’s there, you can identify a subtle vetiver note. It’s nothing compared to the classic strong vetivers from Guerlain and others, where this herb clearly takes center stage. In that respect, I find the naming somewhat inappropriate.

But what I’ve described so far cannot be everything. I smell something powdery, no, not iris, more like an ingredient reminiscent of lime or chalk. Perhaps violet is involved. It reminds me of the “marble dust” from Sculpture pour Homme (Nikos). This one feels a bit lighter than I remember it from Sculpture pour Homme. A direct comparison would be interesting. By the way, this strange chalk note also spreads a bit and adds volume.

Unlike classic vetiver fragrances, this one is certainly unisex-friendly. It is naturally bright, light, and fresh, without completely sacrificing volume. I like it, even if it may not be a truly great fragrance. I can imagine it as a pleasant companion on a beautiful summer morning. The marble dust note, as I call it, connects this fragrance for me with the ancient Mediterranean world.