Top Notes 
Bergamot
Orange
Heart Notes 
Lavender
Violet
Ylang-ylang
Base Notes 
Aquatic notes
Fig
Seagrass
Aava
50 Reviews
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Aava
Top Review
19
"Darling, I Have Seaweed in My Hair!"
The scent concept behind Anto reads like the blurb for "Salt on Our Skin." Anto, who lives on Palmarola, is described as leading a simple yet rich life in his beach hut. Fig trees grow behind the hut, and violets bloom on the rocks by the beach. Anto bakes his own bread and prepares meals for his friends using fresh fish and tomatoes. The fragrance Anto embodies the olfactory longing for this way of life and for the island of Palmarola itself. Therefore, the scent pyramid also partially lists the wind, the sun, and the sea of Palmarola as scent components. It sounds exciting and infinitely beautiful.
I imagine Gauvain, the Breton fisherman from "Salt on Our Skin," and his life by the sea to be similar. George, the protagonist of the novel, is repeatedly drawn from the noisy Paris to the sea. To this rugged man, to this barren yet infinitely rich life. Away from the city, towards simplicity and pure living. One of the key scenes in the novel is the moment when Gauvain and George spend a romantic night on the beach. Salt on our skin....
How often have we all read such scenes in books or seen them in films? And what highly erotic images has the female imagination conjured up in the process? Images of bodies swaying together in the waves under the moonlight, like anemones in the wind.
In our imagination, the sea is never too cold for, well, you know what, and we never get a bladder infection while making love in the water; the waves are always wonderfully gentle and tactful. However, reality tends to offer us different love scenarios:
He slips on a sea cucumber, and both go under in the waves. Or she cries because the salt stings her eyes, and he scrapes his big toe on a rock. Both must immediately get out of the water. He, because he is bleeding; she, because she can no longer see. It is also conceivable that in the heat of the moment, he accidentally lets her go, and she goes under with the next wave. She resurfaces shortly after, with sand between her teeth and seaweed in her hair. He then diplomatically suggests they would be better off going to drink a Pina Colada together.
Thus, I find nothing of the described romantic solitude by the sea in Anto, but rather the harsh reality that haunts us when we try to put such imaginative love romance into actual practice.
The distinctly maritime aquatic theme of Anto is maintained throughout the entire scent journey. Unfortunately, the combination of seaweed and fig results in an overwhelmingly dominant algae note, which gives the entire fragrance experience a somewhat exaggerated quality. Yes, it definitely smells like the sea, but also like seaweed as far as the eye can see. Here, reality meets desire, imagination, and longing, and here, the bladder infection, the scraped toe, and the salt in the stinging eyes clearly win.
Orange and bergamot are almost entirely absent in the top note and can only be perceived as a fleeting and quickly fading whisper. The floral undertone remains diffuse, slightly dominated by ylang-ylang, and lavender only occasionally stretches out its feelers.
Overall, Anto feels strangely structureless and only manages to calm down a bit in the base after what feels like an eternity. Here, I at least sense, in some way, what Anto could have been and should have been: An aquatic maritime fragrance that carries the sea in its heart, the longing feeling of freedom in the Hesperides, and the tranquility and contentment of a contemplative life in the flowers and lavender. It could have been very fascinating.
What a shame, because for me, Anto has unfortunately not become the olfactory translation of "Salt on Our Skin," but rather of "Darling, I Have Seaweed in My Hair."
I imagine Gauvain, the Breton fisherman from "Salt on Our Skin," and his life by the sea to be similar. George, the protagonist of the novel, is repeatedly drawn from the noisy Paris to the sea. To this rugged man, to this barren yet infinitely rich life. Away from the city, towards simplicity and pure living. One of the key scenes in the novel is the moment when Gauvain and George spend a romantic night on the beach. Salt on our skin....
How often have we all read such scenes in books or seen them in films? And what highly erotic images has the female imagination conjured up in the process? Images of bodies swaying together in the waves under the moonlight, like anemones in the wind.
In our imagination, the sea is never too cold for, well, you know what, and we never get a bladder infection while making love in the water; the waves are always wonderfully gentle and tactful. However, reality tends to offer us different love scenarios:
He slips on a sea cucumber, and both go under in the waves. Or she cries because the salt stings her eyes, and he scrapes his big toe on a rock. Both must immediately get out of the water. He, because he is bleeding; she, because she can no longer see. It is also conceivable that in the heat of the moment, he accidentally lets her go, and she goes under with the next wave. She resurfaces shortly after, with sand between her teeth and seaweed in her hair. He then diplomatically suggests they would be better off going to drink a Pina Colada together.
Thus, I find nothing of the described romantic solitude by the sea in Anto, but rather the harsh reality that haunts us when we try to put such imaginative love romance into actual practice.
The distinctly maritime aquatic theme of Anto is maintained throughout the entire scent journey. Unfortunately, the combination of seaweed and fig results in an overwhelmingly dominant algae note, which gives the entire fragrance experience a somewhat exaggerated quality. Yes, it definitely smells like the sea, but also like seaweed as far as the eye can see. Here, reality meets desire, imagination, and longing, and here, the bladder infection, the scraped toe, and the salt in the stinging eyes clearly win.
Orange and bergamot are almost entirely absent in the top note and can only be perceived as a fleeting and quickly fading whisper. The floral undertone remains diffuse, slightly dominated by ylang-ylang, and lavender only occasionally stretches out its feelers.
Overall, Anto feels strangely structureless and only manages to calm down a bit in the base after what feels like an eternity. Here, I at least sense, in some way, what Anto could have been and should have been: An aquatic maritime fragrance that carries the sea in its heart, the longing feeling of freedom in the Hesperides, and the tranquility and contentment of a contemplative life in the flowers and lavender. It could have been very fascinating.
What a shame, because for me, Anto has unfortunately not become the olfactory translation of "Salt on Our Skin," but rather of "Darling, I Have Seaweed in My Hair."
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