Fraujulia

The fragrance starts with a photorealistic wonder berry. Wonder berries have a taste-modifying effect and enhance the impression of sweetness, among other things. So it is here, at least for a few minutes. While this is not particularly pleasant, it is an original artistic touch, and for that, I’ll give it a few points.
It continues in an interesting (but not good) way; the extreme sweetness dims down and eventually disappears into nothingness. Instead, a completely different scent impression emerges. From fruity-sweet-experimental, it turns into bitter seriousness. Just a moment ago, you were in the circus, and suddenly you find yourself in the entrance of a newly completed skyscraper, where the smell of new building materials mixes with the serious faces of people in business suits and expensive leather shoes, along with the non-smell of glass.
The next scene change is less abrupt; it’s more of a slide down into the underground of the skyscraper. Machinery noise thunders from the basement, it smells of chemicals and metal, everything is dark gray, no place for human life. I want to get out, but I can’t! Trapped and dazed by the chemical scent, I try in vain to free myself for many, many hours. Then, finally, the backdrop blurs, turns into gray fog, it gets quieter - the nightmare is over.

Only the coat I wore during this disturbing test continues to relentlessly exude the smell of chemicals and solvents. I have the unpleasant suspicion that even a wash won’t change that.

The title already gives it away. This is a perfume that captures the scent of a freshly cut vanilla pod like no other. Even the oiliness of the pod is present. So if you occasionally work with vanilla pods, you can stop reading here.
The other notes listed in the pyramid are, in my opinion, just sales-promoting decoration. It worked in my case, because hey, lemon! Heliotrope! Strawberry! In reality, none of that is perceivable, not even a little bit. Or maybe I'm just a philistine who doesn't know that, like wine, there are vanilla pods with undertones of lemon and strawberries?
Anyway, if you occasionally like to dress up as a walking vanilla pod in a black-brown outfit with oiled hair, you have found the one and only with Vaniglia. However, if someone on the street approaches you and offers to give you a ride in their car, then run away - it could be a kidnapping attempt by unscrupulous spice traders. 70 kg of vanilla pods are worth a fortune...

Right off the bat: A lot has already been written about the scent, so I will only share a few lines: It is a century-defining fragrance, just like the three years younger Eau de Toilette. "No 5 - A Song of Ice and Fire" it would probably have been called, had G. R. R. Martin been born back then and been responsible for marketing at Chanel. Cool and sparkling like snowflakes at the start, it slowly drifts to the ground, becoming warmer and culminating in an olfactorily unparalleled sensuality from whose glow, as is well known, Marilyn Monroe liked to warm herself at night (whether from the perfume, EdT, or EdC is not entirely clear, possibly alternating between all concentrations). One thing can be said for certain: The N°5 Eau de Parfum created only in the 80s was certainly not it; that was made a good 20 years after her death for the prevailing taste and shoulder-padded zeitgeist.
The photo on Parfumo is, by the way, misleading: the current bottle of N°5 Eau de Parfum looks at first glance exactly like N°5 Parfum, differing only by the two words "Eau de" and the available sizes of 35, 50, and 100ml. Upon opening, a sprayer is revealed, while the perfume usually comes in a tiny splash bottle for dabbing in sizes of 1.5 - 7.5 - 15 and 30ml. Unlike the extraordinarily expensive perfume, the Eau de Parfum can be tested in any perfumery. The perfume, on the other hand, is only sparingly and only (!) dabbed for testing upon request and only if, in the judgment of the sales staff, you have the necessary pocket change, the golden credit card, the generous oligarch uncle (...) with you.
The visual differences are thus minimal, but the differences in scent are much greater. While the also 100-year-old Eau de Toilette brings the same shimmering-transparent "vibe" as the perfume, the Eau de Parfum is a real clod. While the older sisters whisper and giggle together in their refined little black dresses, the Eau de Parfum barges into the exclusive party, roaring as it kicks the door down. Instead of timeless elegance, I perceive endless penetration with the Eau de Parfum. And yes, I can hardly bring myself to write it, but it reminds me, in combination with my skin, of certain human excretions and secretions, which is why I can hardly tolerate it on myself.
Long story short: before you write a review or a statement about the perfume, please make sure you are in the right place. If not: a click on N°5 Eau de Parfum and the critique will land where it belongs.

First of all: yes, as someone else has already pointed out here, the opening does remind a bit of Pril Lemon. But those who are put off by that are, in my opinion, missing out on an almost perfect olfactory journey to the Mediterranean (without salt and any aquatic notes), as soon as the dish soap fades away after a short time.

It is the scent of a really hot Mediterranean midsummer day, where the midday sun beats down mercilessly on the coastal vegetation, causing the ethereal oils of the cedar, lemon, and olive trees to evaporate from their leaves and branches, filling the air. Nothing more, and nothing less. But isn't that already enough for a truly great fragrance?

The composition consistently contains only aromas that naturally occur in this landscape; nothing is out of place or distracting.

Escale a Portofino is wonderfully wearable in the summer, even in scorching heat, as it is truly not sweet at all and integrates well into the scent of the blazing nature. The longevity is about 3-5 hours.
In winter, it works well as a pick-me-up and mood lifter; at low temperatures, it lasts on me all day.

I live in Rome, where the summers are hot and long. Accordingly, I have subjected many summer fragrances to the ultimate test at +35 degrees. None have convinced me as much as Escale a Portofino.

...this is how the previous reviewer categorized it. The chaotic globetrotter, that is exactly me, and I have probably never found a fragrance that suited me so well. I wore the scent in my early twenties; it was the smell of my first shared apartment and the rumpled sheets, memories of my first boyfriend, first jobs, and a lot of chaos come rushing back. We didn’t know it back then, but very soon the world would radically change through mobile phones and the internet. It was fin-de-siècle, the end of the analog era. We had neither a television nor a computer in that first shared apartment; in the evenings, we cooked ratatouille, discussed, and drank a lot of wine. To watch movies, we went to the cinema. Friends would drop by spontaneously; either you were home or you weren't. The dark clouds that would soon be visible in the sky over New York, heralding a new era of war and terror, existed back then only in the imagination of the screenwriter of Fight Club. Yes, the scent was chaotic, but the world was not; it was open, and the future seemed bright. And that also reflects alchemy: brightness, playfulness, freedom. It was a positive scent, completely devoid of melancholy and seriousness. When I then set out to explore the world, the bottle was empty and disappeared from the stores. The world had changed at a dizzying speed, and nothing would ever be the same again. I have owned a miniature for a few months now that I smell when I want to remember that time.