Havana Gold Dries Van Noten 2025
6
A Fragrance Journey in the Footsteps of Hemingway
First stop: the top note - on the rooftop terrace of La Bodeguita
Our fragrance journey begins in the late afternoon in the old town of Havana. The cobblestones shimmer in deep shades of red from the heat of the day. We sit on the rooftop terrace of La Bodeguita. In front of me glows a crystal glass filled with ruby-red, sun-soaked mandarin liqueur. Cinnamon sugar sparkles on the rim of the glass. In the background, the Christmas sounds of the Buena Vista Social Club resonate. In a mint-green Pontiac Salmiac, we finally drive through the sun-drenched alleys of the old town. A cooling breeze gently brushes through my cinnamon-golden hair.
Second stop: the heart note - tobacco field in Vinales in the early evening
In the midst of the still brightly lit tobacco plantation, we meet a farmer with a truly spicy sense of humor. His skilled hands carefully roll the golden-brown leaves into cigars - no lighter, no smoke, just the reverent silence of the ritual. He meticulously arranges the finished artworks on a barrel in Kilian style.
The end of the journey: the base note - Finca Vigia, Hemingway's residence
In Hemingway's study, the windows are wide open. The walls still carry the warmth of the day. I sit in a buttery soft beige leather armchair, the farmer's gift in hand. I enjoy smelling it. From the kitchen wafts the delicious scent of a nutty tonka vanilla pudding through the door crack. Above the bookshelf hangs a picture of Che Guevara in sepia tones. I get up to admire Hemingway's typewriter by the window. The paper roll holds a slightly yellowed sheet, on which I read: my Mojito in La Bodeguita, my daiquiri in El Floridita. I smile and wonder if these are indeed Hemingway's words. With the paper in hand, I walk through the room, stop in front of Che Guevara's picture, and let my fragrance journey replay in my mind.
Havana Gold is certainly not a fragrance revolution. Perhaps it could have benefited from a pinch of rum(ba) to show more liveliness - very much in Hemingway's style. It doesn't strike me as smoky at all, and I perceive the leather note quite subtly. Thus, the fragrance remains a bit monotonous, without ever becoming too sweet. Yet it is precisely this gentle, finely spiced warmth that makes it a pleasant buttery soft companion that lingers long after.
Our fragrance journey begins in the late afternoon in the old town of Havana. The cobblestones shimmer in deep shades of red from the heat of the day. We sit on the rooftop terrace of La Bodeguita. In front of me glows a crystal glass filled with ruby-red, sun-soaked mandarin liqueur. Cinnamon sugar sparkles on the rim of the glass. In the background, the Christmas sounds of the Buena Vista Social Club resonate. In a mint-green Pontiac Salmiac, we finally drive through the sun-drenched alleys of the old town. A cooling breeze gently brushes through my cinnamon-golden hair.
Second stop: the heart note - tobacco field in Vinales in the early evening
In the midst of the still brightly lit tobacco plantation, we meet a farmer with a truly spicy sense of humor. His skilled hands carefully roll the golden-brown leaves into cigars - no lighter, no smoke, just the reverent silence of the ritual. He meticulously arranges the finished artworks on a barrel in Kilian style.
The end of the journey: the base note - Finca Vigia, Hemingway's residence
In Hemingway's study, the windows are wide open. The walls still carry the warmth of the day. I sit in a buttery soft beige leather armchair, the farmer's gift in hand. I enjoy smelling it. From the kitchen wafts the delicious scent of a nutty tonka vanilla pudding through the door crack. Above the bookshelf hangs a picture of Che Guevara in sepia tones. I get up to admire Hemingway's typewriter by the window. The paper roll holds a slightly yellowed sheet, on which I read: my Mojito in La Bodeguita, my daiquiri in El Floridita. I smile and wonder if these are indeed Hemingway's words. With the paper in hand, I walk through the room, stop in front of Che Guevara's picture, and let my fragrance journey replay in my mind.
Havana Gold is certainly not a fragrance revolution. Perhaps it could have benefited from a pinch of rum(ba) to show more liveliness - very much in Hemingway's style. It doesn't strike me as smoky at all, and I perceive the leather note quite subtly. Thus, the fragrance remains a bit monotonous, without ever becoming too sweet. Yet it is precisely this gentle, finely spiced warmth that makes it a pleasant buttery soft companion that lingers long after.
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1 Comment
Skydiver19 3 months ago
1
sinnlich greifbare Geschicht hast Du ausgerollt, und ich finde auch, dass ein wenig Rum(ba) und Rauch dem Duft nicht geschadet hätten