Its name initially evokes associations of a rich and opulent fragrance - lush and full of ripe, perhaps overripe fruits - akin to the feast at the table of a prince who is both unrestrained and immoral. Instead, however, it reminds one of another, a dark and nocturnal Venice. When you find yourself lost among the canals, when every light appears very close yet remains out of reach, when foreign voices seem to whisper an enticing song in the gurgling of the water, when the nighttime houses and the shadows between them possess a strange and surreal beauty.
And then a child in a red raincoat fleetingly appears between the bridge pillars - and when you try to look, there is nothing but darkness and deceptive emptiness. 'When the Gondolas Wear Mourning' is the title of one of the most famous horror films in cinematic history from 1973, which profoundly changed its viewers' relationship with Venice (and with children in red raincoats). The city in the lagoon appears in the film as shady and abyssal, and as is not uncommon in this genre, there is something threatening in every scene, no comfort, no protection, and no safety.
Tom Ford's Venetian Bergamot plays with all these associations and the same dark images. A shimmering transparent citrus blossom reveals a pale glowing gardenia between ylang-ylang and fleeting white feathery flowers, and an ambivalent, dark accord follows in its wake - patchouli seems to be present, and upon closer sniffing, it also seems to be absent. And then - equally incredulous as it is unexpected, the hint of recognition between strangely familiar woods and a velvety alluring sweetness - as if a dark, eerie voice whispered very softly from the depths: 'Beware!'
Conclusion: those who appreciate dark, challenging, and abyssal fragrances should take Venetian Bergamot to heart. It is dark and pale and hauntingly beautiful.
I really like that, because I enjoy the ambivalent, decaying Venice in autumn just as much as the opulent glamour of this multifaceted city in summer. You then bathe in melancholy and long for past glories... with your hands gently dangling in the water... drifting in a peeling boat. Or you turn the next corner and joyfully discover a decaying, yet still flowing fountain in a little piazza.
The magic of this place encompasses all seasons of the year. Even if it doesn’t always smell like roses...
Strangely enough, my perception of this Tom is almost completely the opposite of yours. Yes, it is deep, full, and sensual. But otherwise, I find it to be almost radiantly bright, attractive (one of the few fragrances for which I've received many compliments), and cheerful. I associate it with bright sunshine, steel-blue skies, and pure spring. Intense blooms, gender-neutralized, yet balanced by citrus zest at the start and spiciness as it develops.
The magic of this place encompasses all seasons of the year. Even if it doesn’t always smell like roses...