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Soothing Frankincense
Here's another drop from 2025 that I reached for. The second one after Gardelia, created by Bruno Fazzolari, DEIXIS.
I rarely blindly purchase perfumes these days. I do it when sampling is not an option, and there has been enough to excite me in the perfumer's portfolio to motivate me. Not all of Bruno's scents appeal to me. Some I like very much and some I'm not as fond of, but the most distinctive trait of him as a perfumer is that he is always ready to create something out of the ordinary. He doesn't follow trends but lets his creative ethos drive him forward. And the second thing that pushed me to pursue was the moniker, one with which I have a hard time restraining myself: "AMBER."
DEIXIS has proven to be nothing like what I expected; after all, this is Bruno. I was slightly disappointed at first, but quickly reminded myself to approach the perfume with no expectations. So I did.
I fancied this to be a heavy Labdanum-based Amber scent in the more traditional style: dusty, dry, and leathery. It is nothing like that. Then, I stopped setting expectations, reset, and went back to where it all started - Bruno composed this perfume as an ointment for his soul while going through a difficult period in his life. Then, DEIXIS made sense.
On my skin, this is a Frankincense perfume driven by the Olibanum-Styrax combo, making it fall into the "Churchy" or "Liturgical" Incense genre of fragrances. However, here comes the Bruno twist: the counterbalance provided by the Vanilla and Sandalwood, both of which add a soothing and gourmand feel to prevent the perfume from becoming your stereotypical incense composition or feeling too cold/austere. The olibanum opens the fragrance with its terpenic, citrus-like, and slightly coniferous facets, and it is quickly followed by vanilla. The labdanum is there, but it is very gentle, too shy for my liking. The Styrax does the heavy lifting next to the olibanum, and for the most part, you get this churchy frankincense experience offset by the sweet and gourmand facets of the vanilla. Later in the dry-down, the sandalwood creeps in to add its spicy, milky, and creamy nuances to the build. The perfume ends as a soothing, slightly spicy, milky, and creamy sandalwood with hints of incense. It's a very potent perfume that easily fills the room and lasts the entire day, but it is not heavy. I did wear it in the peak of the Summer heat, and it never felt cloying; a great technical achievement, I should say, to keep the vanilla in check like that.
I now get this fragrance. It embodies what I think Bruno felt during his days of grief - it has a spiritual side invoked by the frankincense accord, a soothing and caressing aspect captured through the warmth and cozy embrace of the vanilla and the sandalwood, and overall evokes a sense of tranquility. It might be a tad too sweet at times for me, but that is only if I smell it close up. In the air, it strikes a harmonious balance. Overall, it is undoubtedly a Bruno Fazzolari creation - familiar but with a twist. And that's why I keep coming back for more.
IG:@memory.of.scents
I rarely blindly purchase perfumes these days. I do it when sampling is not an option, and there has been enough to excite me in the perfumer's portfolio to motivate me. Not all of Bruno's scents appeal to me. Some I like very much and some I'm not as fond of, but the most distinctive trait of him as a perfumer is that he is always ready to create something out of the ordinary. He doesn't follow trends but lets his creative ethos drive him forward. And the second thing that pushed me to pursue was the moniker, one with which I have a hard time restraining myself: "AMBER."
DEIXIS has proven to be nothing like what I expected; after all, this is Bruno. I was slightly disappointed at first, but quickly reminded myself to approach the perfume with no expectations. So I did.
I fancied this to be a heavy Labdanum-based Amber scent in the more traditional style: dusty, dry, and leathery. It is nothing like that. Then, I stopped setting expectations, reset, and went back to where it all started - Bruno composed this perfume as an ointment for his soul while going through a difficult period in his life. Then, DEIXIS made sense.
On my skin, this is a Frankincense perfume driven by the Olibanum-Styrax combo, making it fall into the "Churchy" or "Liturgical" Incense genre of fragrances. However, here comes the Bruno twist: the counterbalance provided by the Vanilla and Sandalwood, both of which add a soothing and gourmand feel to prevent the perfume from becoming your stereotypical incense composition or feeling too cold/austere. The olibanum opens the fragrance with its terpenic, citrus-like, and slightly coniferous facets, and it is quickly followed by vanilla. The labdanum is there, but it is very gentle, too shy for my liking. The Styrax does the heavy lifting next to the olibanum, and for the most part, you get this churchy frankincense experience offset by the sweet and gourmand facets of the vanilla. Later in the dry-down, the sandalwood creeps in to add its spicy, milky, and creamy nuances to the build. The perfume ends as a soothing, slightly spicy, milky, and creamy sandalwood with hints of incense. It's a very potent perfume that easily fills the room and lasts the entire day, but it is not heavy. I did wear it in the peak of the Summer heat, and it never felt cloying; a great technical achievement, I should say, to keep the vanilla in check like that.
I now get this fragrance. It embodies what I think Bruno felt during his days of grief - it has a spiritual side invoked by the frankincense accord, a soothing and caressing aspect captured through the warmth and cozy embrace of the vanilla and the sandalwood, and overall evokes a sense of tranquility. It might be a tad too sweet at times for me, but that is only if I smell it close up. In the air, it strikes a harmonious balance. Overall, it is undoubtedly a Bruno Fazzolari creation - familiar but with a twist. And that's why I keep coming back for more.
IG:@memory.of.scents
When the Man comes around
Anyone who has been around the block for long enough has heard this name at least once: LUI. It makes the best lists of many aficionados when it comes to musks, leathers, and more recently, patchouli. I think it's all of that, depending on how old your bottle is, because this beauty has changed over the years. Frankly, I have been on the fence with it for a long time, as the various samples I tried seemed to be getting increasingly sweeter and patchouli-dominant while departing from the musk-leather-heavy emphasis this fragrance had in the past. Finally, I realized the only way to mend that is to hunt for an older falcon, as it seems to be the solution more often than not.
Smelling it from this bottle, Lui is not about the patchouli, which plays a minor role, and barely any amber. This is, first and foremost, a civet bomb. The cat slaps you over the face as soon as you spray this. But it's not the way civet usually comes across, which is sharp. Here it has this creamy, almost buttery texture, which I only encountered with another fragrance, an Italian-made gourmand, Cadavre Exquis, but devoid of that one's savory connotations. A big dose of buttery and foul-smelling civet, followed by a strong woody facet that smells like a barn scorched by the summer's heat, allowing all its aromas to rise and permeate the air. And finally, a dry and dusty leather, maybe hanging in the same barn next to a pair of leather boots to go with the picture. The patchouli and the amber accord barely breathe underneath the slab of meat and help to balance the fragrance, next to the woods, preventing it from going completely into a gore animalic show.
So, my recommendation, if you are looking for a potent musk perfume with a heavy-handed civet note, go and hunt for old bottles of LUI. I'd even say this is amazing if you want a barnyard and dry leather scent. If you want an amber-patchouli, there are a dozen better options, or you can try the modern versions of LUI, which tone down the animalics significantly. One thing is certain: LUI is pure testosterone juice and truly bad to the bone.
IG:@memory.of.scents
Smelling it from this bottle, Lui is not about the patchouli, which plays a minor role, and barely any amber. This is, first and foremost, a civet bomb. The cat slaps you over the face as soon as you spray this. But it's not the way civet usually comes across, which is sharp. Here it has this creamy, almost buttery texture, which I only encountered with another fragrance, an Italian-made gourmand, Cadavre Exquis, but devoid of that one's savory connotations. A big dose of buttery and foul-smelling civet, followed by a strong woody facet that smells like a barn scorched by the summer's heat, allowing all its aromas to rise and permeate the air. And finally, a dry and dusty leather, maybe hanging in the same barn next to a pair of leather boots to go with the picture. The patchouli and the amber accord barely breathe underneath the slab of meat and help to balance the fragrance, next to the woods, preventing it from going completely into a gore animalic show.
So, my recommendation, if you are looking for a potent musk perfume with a heavy-handed civet note, go and hunt for old bottles of LUI. I'd even say this is amazing if you want a barnyard and dry leather scent. If you want an amber-patchouli, there are a dozen better options, or you can try the modern versions of LUI, which tone down the animalics significantly. One thing is certain: LUI is pure testosterone juice and truly bad to the bone.
IG:@memory.of.scents
Beneath the Earth and Deep into the Cellar, where the Wild Roses grow...
The perfect Patchouli fragrance for my soul. It has a bit of everything - nature-like smell, dank, earthy, dusty, liquor-like, spicy, medicinal, only slightly sweet, and with a brilliantly poetic addition of rose. It is a soul-stirring, unfiltered, and brutal depiction of this note.
I love many approaches to patchouli, from the dusty cocoa to the ambery ones. The variety that leaves me indifferent is the "modern" and "clean" patchouli scents a la Coromandel and Co. I like them as musty, dusty, earthy, and close-to-nature as possible. The Santa Maria Novella is that and more. I think it might be too literal for many, specifically if one is used to having their patchouli pampered by balsamic, woody, and floral notes. This one is as close to nature as it can get, further made challenging by the cold, almost metallic, and medicinal blast from the opening (very clove-forward), the raw earthiness (practically can nearly chew it), and the minimal sweetness and fillers. As with other perfumes from this house, it smells very high quality, quite butch, and medieval. With this one, I picture a dank cellar in a castle. The cold and wet opening, coupled with the boozy, liquor-like facet (like a liquor made from the earth) and the earthiness, all make me think of a cellar. There is, however, one aspect that helps bring out a lyrical and romantic face of the fragrance, and that is a vivid rose accord. It comes across as such and may be the suggested imagery of the combination of eugenol, geranium, and rosewood listed among the notes. Still, it's a rose nonetheless. Crimson petals of a withered flower dangling on the cold and wet earth. It allows a sensitive side of the perfume to show and prevents it from being too simple-minded and brute.
This duality of darkness with speckles of diaphanous light makes me reminisce of the way Lestat dreamed of Claudia: "The smell of crushed rose petals wafting from her curly hair." I can see a character like Lestat de Lioncourt as an embodiment of this scent. The perfect balance of malevolence, starkness, timeless beauty, with a hint of romance.
CAVEAT: Review based on the frosted bottle version, which differs from the current, clear-glass, and paper-label one.
IG:@memory.of.scents
I love many approaches to patchouli, from the dusty cocoa to the ambery ones. The variety that leaves me indifferent is the "modern" and "clean" patchouli scents a la Coromandel and Co. I like them as musty, dusty, earthy, and close-to-nature as possible. The Santa Maria Novella is that and more. I think it might be too literal for many, specifically if one is used to having their patchouli pampered by balsamic, woody, and floral notes. This one is as close to nature as it can get, further made challenging by the cold, almost metallic, and medicinal blast from the opening (very clove-forward), the raw earthiness (practically can nearly chew it), and the minimal sweetness and fillers. As with other perfumes from this house, it smells very high quality, quite butch, and medieval. With this one, I picture a dank cellar in a castle. The cold and wet opening, coupled with the boozy, liquor-like facet (like a liquor made from the earth) and the earthiness, all make me think of a cellar. There is, however, one aspect that helps bring out a lyrical and romantic face of the fragrance, and that is a vivid rose accord. It comes across as such and may be the suggested imagery of the combination of eugenol, geranium, and rosewood listed among the notes. Still, it's a rose nonetheless. Crimson petals of a withered flower dangling on the cold and wet earth. It allows a sensitive side of the perfume to show and prevents it from being too simple-minded and brute.
This duality of darkness with speckles of diaphanous light makes me reminisce of the way Lestat dreamed of Claudia: "The smell of crushed rose petals wafting from her curly hair." I can see a character like Lestat de Lioncourt as an embodiment of this scent. The perfect balance of malevolence, starkness, timeless beauty, with a hint of romance.
CAVEAT: Review based on the frosted bottle version, which differs from the current, clear-glass, and paper-label one.
IG:@memory.of.scents
Black Water or Black Licorice?
Speaking of oddball concoctions, here is one that I love and is among my most worn perfumes and one that I somehow never got around to reviewing.
The one and only Eau Noire. It is worth mentioning that there were three iterations of this fragrance, originally composed by Kurkdijan in 2004, then slightly tweaked by Demachy when Dior launched its "La Collection Couturier" in 2010, and it was later reformulated yet again by its original creator. I happen to prefer the early Demachy version over both the Kurkdijans, as I find it to strike the perfect balance between Fougere and Oriental. The original "Cologne" was heavier on spices and fresher, while the latest version steers more into the dry-smoked woods territory and tones down the blast of spices and heavy licorice. That being said, I have to give credit to Kurkdijan for creating such a unique and memorable fragrance. He is no doubt one of, if not the most overrated nose in the industry, but he outdid himself when he created Eau Noire. Despite my love for Absolue Pour Le Soir, I think Eau Noire is the best thing he has ever done, and for my taste, the best thing that ever came out of the house of Christian Dior.
What makes this perfume so exquisite is how it takes the most incompatible accords and blends them into something that not only works but manages to entice, inspire, and be completely original. Who could have ever imagined putting together greens, lavender, thyme, fenugreek, coffee, black licorice, vanilla, and wood? These are the most prevalent notes and accords to my nose. I don't get the people who call out Immortelle as one of the major players in here. As hard as I struggle to fathom that, I can't. I'd say fenugreek is to blame for the "curry/maple" feel in Eau Noire, and people get confused or regurgitate what others say. Eau Noire doesn't display the usual facets of Immortelle. But that's just my opinion.
The perfume is built of two halves, the Fougere and the Oriental, linked by this most peculiar accord of Black Licorice. The latter is not your licorice root nor the star anise, but an actual "confectionary licorice" accord. Indeed, like those dark-hued candies you might have tried at least once as a kid. If you didn't, you've missed out. I happen to love them and naturally, adore their showcase in Eau Noire. It is strong, and if you don't like that flavor, you can safely avoid this fragrance. It's omnipresent and connects the two parts of the composition.
It starts as a green, spicy fougere, with a strong display of thyme and perhaps myrtle, lavender, and green-wet grass. This part lasts for a good while before you start to pick up the Oriental elements underneath - the vanilla, the coffee, and the smoked woods that give off a "faux" leather impression at times. The coffee note is another major player in Eau Noire, and while I struggle with it in most compositions, I thoroughly enjoy how it is showcased here - think of a caffe latte, not the beans or the black coffee accord. The more it goes down into the base, the more of the woods, vanilla, and latte accord come to the forefront, but the green aspects, the fenugreek, the licorice, and the lavender hold their ground, albeit in the background. I believe the combination of fenugreek and vanilla helps to create the "maple syrup" impression that surfaces later in the development. And even after many hours, when Eau Noire finally settles down as a proper Oriental perfume, you can still sense the juicy and tart green aspects and the licorice cutting through the fuming woods and the steaming latte.
Eau Noire is one of those "love-it-or-hate-it" perfumes with no in-betweens. The one thing, however, that cannot be contested is how exquisite and iconic an olfactory work it is. Technically flawless, a seamless blend of all those notes that don't belong together yet works like a finely tuned musical instrument without ever feeling jarring, while creatively original with no resemblance, played by a musician that nowadays is in his hour of fame but worst moment of creativity, for the few ears longing for good music, the type that stirs emotions.
IG:@memory.of.scents
The one and only Eau Noire. It is worth mentioning that there were three iterations of this fragrance, originally composed by Kurkdijan in 2004, then slightly tweaked by Demachy when Dior launched its "La Collection Couturier" in 2010, and it was later reformulated yet again by its original creator. I happen to prefer the early Demachy version over both the Kurkdijans, as I find it to strike the perfect balance between Fougere and Oriental. The original "Cologne" was heavier on spices and fresher, while the latest version steers more into the dry-smoked woods territory and tones down the blast of spices and heavy licorice. That being said, I have to give credit to Kurkdijan for creating such a unique and memorable fragrance. He is no doubt one of, if not the most overrated nose in the industry, but he outdid himself when he created Eau Noire. Despite my love for Absolue Pour Le Soir, I think Eau Noire is the best thing he has ever done, and for my taste, the best thing that ever came out of the house of Christian Dior.
What makes this perfume so exquisite is how it takes the most incompatible accords and blends them into something that not only works but manages to entice, inspire, and be completely original. Who could have ever imagined putting together greens, lavender, thyme, fenugreek, coffee, black licorice, vanilla, and wood? These are the most prevalent notes and accords to my nose. I don't get the people who call out Immortelle as one of the major players in here. As hard as I struggle to fathom that, I can't. I'd say fenugreek is to blame for the "curry/maple" feel in Eau Noire, and people get confused or regurgitate what others say. Eau Noire doesn't display the usual facets of Immortelle. But that's just my opinion.
The perfume is built of two halves, the Fougere and the Oriental, linked by this most peculiar accord of Black Licorice. The latter is not your licorice root nor the star anise, but an actual "confectionary licorice" accord. Indeed, like those dark-hued candies you might have tried at least once as a kid. If you didn't, you've missed out. I happen to love them and naturally, adore their showcase in Eau Noire. It is strong, and if you don't like that flavor, you can safely avoid this fragrance. It's omnipresent and connects the two parts of the composition.
It starts as a green, spicy fougere, with a strong display of thyme and perhaps myrtle, lavender, and green-wet grass. This part lasts for a good while before you start to pick up the Oriental elements underneath - the vanilla, the coffee, and the smoked woods that give off a "faux" leather impression at times. The coffee note is another major player in Eau Noire, and while I struggle with it in most compositions, I thoroughly enjoy how it is showcased here - think of a caffe latte, not the beans or the black coffee accord. The more it goes down into the base, the more of the woods, vanilla, and latte accord come to the forefront, but the green aspects, the fenugreek, the licorice, and the lavender hold their ground, albeit in the background. I believe the combination of fenugreek and vanilla helps to create the "maple syrup" impression that surfaces later in the development. And even after many hours, when Eau Noire finally settles down as a proper Oriental perfume, you can still sense the juicy and tart green aspects and the licorice cutting through the fuming woods and the steaming latte.
Eau Noire is one of those "love-it-or-hate-it" perfumes with no in-betweens. The one thing, however, that cannot be contested is how exquisite and iconic an olfactory work it is. Technically flawless, a seamless blend of all those notes that don't belong together yet works like a finely tuned musical instrument without ever feeling jarring, while creatively original with no resemblance, played by a musician that nowadays is in his hour of fame but worst moment of creativity, for the few ears longing for good music, the type that stirs emotions.
IG:@memory.of.scents
Gardelia, una fiamma eterna
I have spent some time with the new Gardelia to feel confident enough to give my thoughts on this latest collaboration between Antonio Gardoni and Profumeria Al Sacro Cuore.
Firstly, I don't think it's worth comparing to the first version or any other Gardoni creation, although it borrows from the original and the first iterations of MAAI. Overall, I find it a standalone creation in the BOGUE universe, with little comparison to be drawn to any other perfume, even outside this space. Perhaps I could make a parallel with Lost in Flowers from Strangelove NYC due to how the floral bouquet comes across in portraying that same lush and naturalistic imagery.
Gardelia 2025 is a Green-White Floral Chypre, although the green component isn't that conspicuous. It is built with plenty of high-quality materials, easy to recognize throughout its evolution, and woven into a seamless flume by Antonio. Not an easy feat when working with so many delicate and complex naturals. Like so many BOGUE perfumes, the blend is spotless, and the transitions between the top, mid, and base feel like oil brush strokes smoothly blended.
The opening is short-lived, introducing a quick burst of overripe bergamot, not your usual bright and bracing type, alongside a peppery facet. This part is detectable when smelling the perfume up close, but goes almost unnoticed when applying it to the neck/chest. Shortly after, the florals come into play, and they hold the stage for a good while, partly overlapping with the base before slowly fading away. Unlike the first version, here I find the Gardenia to be not just easily detectable but the main floral note, supported by a shy Jasmine and a curious Ylang-Ylang that pops in and out sporadically. I don't think I have smelled another perfume to put Gardenia to such great use as in here. It is not only highlighted but stretched in its profile, allowing its beautiful natural facets to come through - green, milky, slightly tropical, sweet, and creamy. When I smelled Gardelia for the first time years ago, I thought, "This is the best floral perfume ever made." I believe this version does justice to its predecessor while offering something new, with emphasis placed on the Gardenia flower. The base of the fragrance is incredibly smooth with an almost velvety texture comprised of vetiver, resins, moss, and civet. It strikes a perfect balance without feeling overly stuffy, dirty/musky, bitter, sweet, or smoky. I feel this version improves on the original in the base by smoothing out the creases and upgrading the complexity.
Overall, the flame still burns at Sacro Cuore with the new version of Gardelia. It is a new floral terroir by Antonio Gardoni; hence, if you like his treatment of flowers, you can't go wrong. It feels more streamlined and mature than the previous version, better quality, and more restrained than vintage MAAI. It's a white floral chypre par excellence that puts Gardenia into the limelight for those who have been searching for a perfume that focuses on this beautiful, rare, and very expensive material. It fits nicely into the BOGUE floral portfolio, one that continues to offer and expand with already so many excellent tributes.
IG:@memory.of.scents
Firstly, I don't think it's worth comparing to the first version or any other Gardoni creation, although it borrows from the original and the first iterations of MAAI. Overall, I find it a standalone creation in the BOGUE universe, with little comparison to be drawn to any other perfume, even outside this space. Perhaps I could make a parallel with Lost in Flowers from Strangelove NYC due to how the floral bouquet comes across in portraying that same lush and naturalistic imagery.
Gardelia 2025 is a Green-White Floral Chypre, although the green component isn't that conspicuous. It is built with plenty of high-quality materials, easy to recognize throughout its evolution, and woven into a seamless flume by Antonio. Not an easy feat when working with so many delicate and complex naturals. Like so many BOGUE perfumes, the blend is spotless, and the transitions between the top, mid, and base feel like oil brush strokes smoothly blended.
The opening is short-lived, introducing a quick burst of overripe bergamot, not your usual bright and bracing type, alongside a peppery facet. This part is detectable when smelling the perfume up close, but goes almost unnoticed when applying it to the neck/chest. Shortly after, the florals come into play, and they hold the stage for a good while, partly overlapping with the base before slowly fading away. Unlike the first version, here I find the Gardenia to be not just easily detectable but the main floral note, supported by a shy Jasmine and a curious Ylang-Ylang that pops in and out sporadically. I don't think I have smelled another perfume to put Gardenia to such great use as in here. It is not only highlighted but stretched in its profile, allowing its beautiful natural facets to come through - green, milky, slightly tropical, sweet, and creamy. When I smelled Gardelia for the first time years ago, I thought, "This is the best floral perfume ever made." I believe this version does justice to its predecessor while offering something new, with emphasis placed on the Gardenia flower. The base of the fragrance is incredibly smooth with an almost velvety texture comprised of vetiver, resins, moss, and civet. It strikes a perfect balance without feeling overly stuffy, dirty/musky, bitter, sweet, or smoky. I feel this version improves on the original in the base by smoothing out the creases and upgrading the complexity.
Overall, the flame still burns at Sacro Cuore with the new version of Gardelia. It is a new floral terroir by Antonio Gardoni; hence, if you like his treatment of flowers, you can't go wrong. It feels more streamlined and mature than the previous version, better quality, and more restrained than vintage MAAI. It's a white floral chypre par excellence that puts Gardenia into the limelight for those who have been searching for a perfume that focuses on this beautiful, rare, and very expensive material. It fits nicely into the BOGUE floral portfolio, one that continues to offer and expand with already so many excellent tributes.
IG:@memory.of.scents
