Aglianico

It seems to be the classic scenario: A perfume or a perfuma strolls through an Italian city, the sun is shining, and the mood is in vacation mode - and there! A scent, a fragrance trail! Scent detected! The fine nose leads him or her through the streets, the dusty summer, past ice cream parlors and architectural testimonies of bygone times, to a … clothing store named Gutteridge. Not very Italian-sounding, yet “dal 1878”.

Admittedly, I had never heard of this brand when I was on vacation in Milan and Bergamo last summer. That was long before Corona. A fine, well-known scent wafted from the well-air-conditioned store on Via Dante. That’s Aven…! I almost exclaimed that mystically tinted name aloud in the pedestrian zone, which would inevitably awaken the guardians of the batch codes from their never-deep slumber and stand as archangels beside their Lord in celestial heights like Michael with his entourage in the Revelation of John.

Curious, I entered the store and tested the early offspring (2013) of perhaps the most wave-making niche fragrance of recent times. Out of respect for the original, which I truly appreciate, it should be emphasized that no revolutionary, unique twist is presented to the wearer here. For Gutteridge (Black), as the descendant is called, does not even try to hide its family resemblance and is likely born from the calculation to hop on the success train. What a stroke of luck for all fragrance addicts!

For me, it is a more wearable Aventus, softer, creamier, more subdued, office-appropriate. No fruit explosion, no burning birch forest, no olfactory volume. Less Missa solemnis than Sunday mass - everyday life in the realm of scent liturgy. My 30ml bottle of the original just won’t run out, even though I enjoy wearing it from time to time. The original is often too loud, too much, too extroverted for me. I miss understatement and modesty, even though I understand anyone who sees it differently or appreciates the very absence of those qualities in Aventus. Tastes and “applications” are, after all, different. I can’t really imagine the original at a baptism, in the hospital, while shopping at a discount store, or visiting grandma for coffee and cake, but this Italian offspring fits perfectly.

With the Gutteridge, I have now found an “A-scent” for myself that is more straightforward. Less “aftershave,” more soft base, a bit duller and less complex. Significantly less smokiness. A scent that is still distinctive, can be worn with a shirt as well as a T-shirt, and never screams “Here! Me! Look at me! HERE I AM!” Less acrylic paint, more watercolor. Nothing about this scent annoys me; nothing is too much. I find that quite impressive for this fragrance direction.

The bottle is solid and heavy, the cap has survived an involuntary drop from one and a half meters high with almost no scratches, yet it doesn’t sit very firmly on the body. The sprayer is a real highlight - not yet at Dior or LV level, but already good quality. Longevity and sillage are completely average for a men’s fragrance, which I personally appreciate. For a long time, this scent was probably only available in Bella Italia or through intermediaries who “passed it on” at inflated prices. Now it’s also available online with, I believe, free international shipping. Locally, at least last summer, it was priced below 30,- for 100 ml. Very fair.

Beloved Bergamot,

we hide so much, show it to no one, out of shame, out of fear that our vulnerability might be exploited. Imperfection pricks like a thorn. Pressure from the outside, pressure from within, to conform to images, not the other way around. Everyday life is often permeated by this madness. In the morning, after the alarm rings, sand in my eyes, creaking joints, post-night moon craters on my face, staggering, listlessness, grumbling, mustiness. All of this is part of life, but it is rarely shown. Yet it is normal and good. Your presence helps me shift my perspective. Because with you, I can be who I am. You accept me unconditionally.
You wake up next to me and lay over me like a veil, like the finest mist. I draw back the curtains, sunlight floods the bedroom, you on my skin, in my fabrics, your scent in my nose, penetrating my brain, not letting go, you do not let go of me. You Bergamot dream. The gentle herbaceousness of your family of origin you shift into something creamy, light and airy. Fluffy, airy cream, not heavy at all, not pulling bitter. Soft, harmonious, thoroughly. Bergamot ice in summer. With slightly sweet elements, like vanillic oranges, and delicate green, but delicate, very delicate, aiming to smooth everything out, to round it off. If you were a picture, you would be a watercolor.
You love it when the sun shines; and when it does not, you take its place. At work, you occasionally waft into my nose, reminding me of you and everything you stand for: cheerfulness, lightheartedness, warmth, ease. During a walk in the park, the spring green of nature becomes even more intense and beautiful. When we meet an acquaintance, time suddenly flows in the most beautiful way. You are pleasing, not just to me, for which I am grateful. In your poetry album, I would write the attribute triad clean/fresh/pure. You are not a loud middle-distance runner. You do not cling, you do not stick, instead you fade away quietly. At work, this sometimes makes me sad. But there is also something good about it: I long for you again and look forward to the evening and the next morning with you.
It is a pity that you are relatively unknown. It is a pity that you cost. But so be it, you are with me and also delight the lives of some others. That is beautiful, as it should be.

With love

He will come, the next July, for sure. Maybe we will be able to move freely again. Maybe we will get on our bikes and cycle through enveloping warmth along sun-drenched country paths, into the woods, crossing state borders, country borders, and back home. Who knows ...
Melagrana was born this month. The time of black currants. A berry scent of enchanting simplicity like the entire Parco-Palladiano line from which it originates. It shifts between picked berry, green shrubbery, infusion, and jam, while remaining summery light, floating, unobtrusive. Berry softness, delicacy. A scent impression midway between naturalness and artificiality, which I also experienced with many other fragrances in the line, such as the ones I appreciate like Quadrifoglio, Lauro, Olivo, and others.
But wait!
Really black currant? That would only be half the truth. Because "melagrana" means pomegranate. Can one be so mistaken? Already with Quadrifoglio ("Clover"), I was surprised that basil was the dominant note and clover was not detectable to my nose. It is similar here. Where is the pomegranate, that sweet-bitter fruit? Where are the tannins? Where is the zesty fruitiness, when I rather smell something like transparent berry notes with a gentle green-creamy accompaniment?
I spray the scent on again and think. Admittedly, there is a certain bitterness. But my scent impression simply does not lead me to freshly cut pomegranate. Maybe to grenadine syrup, but not so cloyingly sweet. Perhaps this scent is simply meant to be an abstraction of nature, a simplification, a reduction, where boundaries blur.
So be it. This scent deserves a comment, even if it is rather a rarity here. I like it in its simplicity and unreserved cheerfulness, which is not loud. By the way, I do not perceive it as unisex, rather as a women's fragrance. Nothing more needs to be said about the bottles in the line - they are personally unmatched for me. But that's a matter of taste.

This is roughly how I would have imagined a prototypical perfume a few years ago, when I was not yet interested in fragrances: captivating, delicious, somewhat seductive. An accessory that primarily aims for two things - to stand out (positively). Then, at some point, my fragrance journey began, and I no longer see it so narrowly. Nevertheless, wearing Casablanca again made me think of that clarity from my naïve years, when perfume was still “functional” for me in a non-negative sense.

Casablanca evokes western-filtered fantasies of an “oriental” city full of scents, 1001 Nights, hustle and bustle, colorfully painted historical buildings, embraced by the desert, kissed by the sun. This smoothed image likely contrasts with the reality of the 3.36 million-inhabitant metropolis Casablanca, much like an Instagram selfie does with a real person. It’s not about wanting to see reality, but rather a staging. More Casablanca film than “Sky Over the Desert.”

Casablanca opens with a soft, (not sharp) sour sweetness, which is why “apple” and “grape” are good associations. The scent progression seems relatively linear to me, although over time, a slightly dry woodiness in the background provides a bed for the soft opulence of this delicate-sweet fragrance to rest upon. “Caramel” might suggest that we are dealing with a cavity-inducing scent - but that’s not the case; the sweetness does not overwhelm (me). What distinguishes it, in my opinion, is that despite all the “punch,” it still allows for breathing space. A warm (with a balsamic touch), slightly fruity, delicious scent that, in my view, suits women better than men. But perhaps it is just on the edge of being unisex. Even though Casablanca seems made for the cold season, it also wears well in the height of summer - tested last year at 30 degrees during a company party. One must, however, enjoy this sweet genre. For this reason, I wear it rarely, even though I must say subjectively-objectively: This is really a good one, if: you don’t expect art; no complexity; no “niche” experiments. Because in its composition, it is indeed very smooth and uncomplicated. But I like that.

Longevity and sillage: both really good, but not yet in the “premium segment.”

Bottle: slim and tall made of glass with rounded edges. A bit wobbly on its feet. The plastic cap does not sit very firmly on the bottle. Overall okay for the price (25-30,-/100ml, which is really fair).

This fragrance is like a missing puzzle piece. It could have arisen from the calculation that Dior had not yet had a subtle all-rounder with high versatility and little offensiveness in its (standard) portfolio. Unlike other houses. Think, for example, of Chanel's Bleu de Chanel or Allure Homme (Sport), Prada L’Homme, Yves Saint Laurent L’Homme. You can already tell from the naming: a "real" (L‘)Homme was missing. Or something Bleu’des. A scent that sells very well, basks in the glow of the brand name, and is also simply pleasing. You can say what you want about Bleu de Chanel: But it achieves all that.

At Dior, the real, original Hommes have previously been in the foreground. Fragrances that are somehow wearable daily, but are actually a bit too hefty to be considered subtle. And of course, Dior Sauvage - the classic opposite of introversion. As mentioned: Many other houses had long since filled the missing puzzle piece in their standard portfolio. Now, Dior has it too.

I actually feel a slight similarity to the Bleu de Chanel DNA, with a certain - perhaps the word is exaggerated - innovation that shifts the citrusy, slightly sweet freshness a few octaves towards "traditional fragrance masculinity," without venturing into experiments or deliberately being provocative. A woody, (with a lot of imagination) slightly earthy base does this. While it doesn’t make the fragrance dark, it does make it a bit more robust in comparison. I had at least brief associations with vetiver and cedar. Whether from a test tube or nature. All components are intertwined, stirred, blurred, so that in the end, a rather linear, uncomplicated fragrance emerges. Okay, that’s not forbidden. But it’s no longer art.

Is this an innovative fragrance? In my opinion, rather no, but the result of a calculation (see above). But that doesn’t make the fragrance inherently worse. My first impression: The sillage is in a range that predisposes this fragrance for contact professions. Or for leisure. The longevity is okay, a few hours are possible, on clothing even half a day (of course, up close). The fragrance itself is smooth, fresh resting on (artificial?) wood.

Not really important, but I was surprised today during my first wear: My three immediate colleagues all commented on the fragrance, which has only happened once before (Reflection Man, of course). “Do you have a new fragrance?” Now I could come up with a great story, but the reality was as follows: The fragrance seems to stand out and be easily distinguishable from other scents. But: All three found it nice and wearable, yet a bit boring. Two thought that the L’Homme from YSL was “considerably better” (which I also agree with). Conclusion: One does not go wrong with this fragrance. It could really fill the gap at Dior and bring in even more money. And most buyers will be satisfied. I am also satisfied, but not euphoric.

One more word about the naming: catastrophic. To degrade a success story to the original in order to reach the coveted "homme" that indicates to the buyer that this is THE central fragrance (for men) of a brand ... Oh, let’s not talk about it anymore ...