The first and only time I went to Italy I was sixteen, and on a six-week trip of Europe with a large group of girls who had fundraised for the trip through Girl Guides (Scouts). Using the blitzkrieg method of Old World sightseeing favored by many generations of North American young people, we "did" Italy by spending a day-and-a-half in Venice. It was high summer and with the callousness of youth, I wrote Venice off with a few lines in my travel diary: "It's like a museum covered in pigeon poop. The canals smell of sewage, and there is a haze hanging over the water. No oilies as of yet." This last bit was because our uniforms apparently made us look like an enormous gaggle of young stewardesses and so we attracted camps of hopeful, slick fellows most places we went. Despite their absence in Venice, I came away with an impression of the place that might have turned me into the sort of traveler who discouraged Kevin. The recent garbage strike in my hometown of Toronto has made me realize you can catch a city on a bad day (or month) — but even in 1993, years before my perfume obsession began, I was hypersensitive to smells, good and bad. As far as I was concerned, Italy stunk.
It was puzzling, though, that my parents kept returning there. "Table wines are cheaper than Coke," my father explained, when I asked why they kept going back. (Perhaps this brief, thrift-related response helps clarify that my parents are not of Italian descent and therefore returning to visit the mother country; Scotland is the land of our fathers.) Since my parents are not enthusiastic photographers, I tried to determine the attraction of this region listening to stories of their travels. Through these tales, I got another impression of Italy: it didn't work. All their anecdotes seemed to involve a bus breaking down, the taxi drivers being on strike, a forty-minute walk through withering heat to an architectural marvel which had just closed for a three-hour lunch, and stumbling over an excellent restaurant with no signage when they finally went looking for a toilet. The appeal of the table wine and the orechetti with rapini and sausage was apparent, but I found myself less philosophical about the earlier obstacles than my parents.
Then, a few springs ago, my husband, daughter and I landed in Nice, France, and I fell in love with the almost gaudy beauty of the waterfront, the technicolor houses, the street food and market stalls of spicy olives, the insanity of the local motorists. We bumped into many other tourists, who all said: "If you like this, keep going east." Everyone mentioned Cinque Terre, the Amalfi coast, Palermo. We never even made it to Menton, but we returned home to find my aunt and uncle had created a computer slide show of their casually snapped, postcard-perfect shots of Ravello, Capri and Positano (sadly, no photos of La Sirenuse, the hotel behind Eau D'Italie.) Early this summer I decided to push for Italy as our next vacation destination.
Around the same time, I returned to a perfume list of best Italian scented exports I had begun over a year ago. I had given up on that first post in frustration. Sampling had convinced me that Italian niche lines make some of the worst perfumes in the world. I had difficulty defining my criteria for inclusion — Italian ownership of the fragrance line? Italian nose? — and I would sample something fabulous only to find it was discontinued, reformulated or impossible to purchase here. (See the paragraph on Italy not working for reference.) Like many other scents, 10 Corso Como was damaged by the Mysore sandalwood shortage, losing some of its balance between fuel fumes and baking bread. The best i Profumi di Firenze scents are expensive or apparently not distributed in North America. You used to be forced to order the delicious Vento Canale by Gianni Campagna from First-in-Fragrance in Germany — until it disappeared all together. Fendi (Asja, Theorema) succumbed to LVMH and it is difficult to find Krizia's Teatro alla Scalla or Krazy at the online discounters. Still, with some perseverance this time, I was able to find or rediscover some Latin beauties that did not appear to be endangered.
Bvlgari Black: When I'm playing that perfumista's game of choosing the fragrances of one house to take to the moon, a desert island or just into a life of monk-like austerity, I'm always surprised by how long it takes me to think of Bvlgari, which is surely one of the very best lines widely available. Like Omnia and Eau Parfumée au Thé Vert, my other favorites from the Roman jeweler, Black is effortlessly modern. With its urban, fashion-forward vibe, it feels like the perfect scent for a runway in Milan.
Etro Anice: Another criminally underrated fragrance house, Etro is on my short-list of lines I can't live without. Messe de Minuit, Shaal Nur and Vetiver are all decants that travel everywhere with me, but Anice is among the most used atomizers in my purse as well as perhaps the most telling example of what Etro does best. Sometimes the simplest things are hardest to do, and it's easy to forget how seamlessly Jacques Flori blended the chewy, salty facet of aniseed with an airiness that perfectly complements summer. Despite its natural, rich complexity, the seamlessness makes Anice an ideal layering scent.
Santa Maria Novella Potpourri: For days when only the sinus-searing will do. Like a Diptyque turned up to eleven, this smells like a medieval cure for all that ails you: a cast-iron brewed blast of spices, berries, twigs and something camphorous that is undoubtedly poisonous. A best in class for the apothecary style.
Carthusia Aria di Capri: The best of the Carthusia line — this one and the sparkling, herbal Mediterraneo — have a shivering shot of bitterness running through them. Similar in spirit, if not in smell or sillage, to Serge Lutens Arabie, Aria di Capri employs a spike of bay leaf to liven up the sort of beautiful, woody-powdery blend of iris and mimosa that would otherwise be as doomed to obsolescence as your grandmother's slipcovers.
La Via del Profumo Attar Oak Moss: This creation of mostly natural perfumer Dominique Dubrana was apparently made "for Tarzan", but has been borrowed by Janes. With the clean lines and almost organic character of the best stone buildings, it has a lonely, pure elegance to it. Dubrana's Hindu Kush has a similar atmosphere and is also highly recommended.
Note: image via Images de Parfums.
SMN Potpourri always smells like original Listerine on me, which I find hilarious and irresistible at the same time!
Hey, now that you mention it, it does smell like Listerine! You seem to be enjoying it in the same spirit as I do.
Erin – love the post! Yes Italy stinks (as do most European big cities- Athens, I’m talking to you!!), but it is sooo wonderful! I’ve been to the “north” and Venice a few times and it has a lot of good memories for me…
My fav Italians are the sadly disc original Fendi (in microscopic doses) and Theorema, which I recently discovered. It is just so pretty! I wish also that I’d picked up one of the beautiful bottles of Asja when I had the chance… The marketing images for the original Fendi had a big sophisticated impact on me when I was a young teen in the 80s, so that always has a soft spot for me.
But I do love the iPdF Miele Rosa which I think smells like a sun warmed, wind whipped & weed choked rose briar. The Lorenzo Villoresi Dilmun is an excellent orange blossom and vanilla spices fragrance. Occasionally I like the LV Donna which merited a large decant, and the LV Wild Lavender is pretty good natural and bracing lavender. And after being in “stinky” Italy, I can see why his fragrance, Piper Nigrum, smells like good clean Noxema.
I think the DSH “Italian Journey” perfumes are very beautiful, though fleeting. The Giardini Segreti (No 3) is about the prettiest softest tuberose floral I’ve ever smelled – so romantic!
But if I had to actually choose a fragrance or two that make me think of Italy from my travels, it would have to be either AG Eau d’Hadrien, esp. on those sweltering hot days, or Lancome’s Magie Noire for excellent nights in Venice or Milan…
A very intersting list, there. I am particularly intrigued by the Magie Noire association – Lancome is “French” of course, but since the fragrance indutry is so international now, with power consolidated in so few hands and perfumers coming from all over the world, it makes some sense to start categorizing scents as Italian primarily by spirit or genre, as Luca Turin sometimes does.
That iPdF sounds very nice; I’ve never tried it. I think my fave from that line so far is Incenso, which is hard to get here. LV and I don’t get along, unfortunately, but I do like Dilmun. It’s odd, because I’m phobic about orange blossom, and I don’t often wear my sample, because I occasionally find the soapiness a bit loud, but it is objectively lovely and sometimes just right. I’m always intimidated by the sheer number of scents (and number of series) that DSH has, but the No. 3 sounds really appealing.
DSH is intimidating. It would be more fun to go to Boulder and sniff at her shop for sure!
I forgot to mention.. I really like Bulgari Black too. It surprised me a lot. But I don’t really get that rubber thing that everyone mentions. To me it just smells really hot – like the smell of something spicy right before it might catch on fire. Overall, I think Black has a nice soft fuzzy powdery thing going on – very direct, very pretty. It helped me fall in love with L’Heure Bleue as I think there is a great similarity between the two. It is a good choice for a “modern” Euro vibe. It makes me think of the screeching & intimacy of rail stations.
Oh, that would be wonderful – although I think you always leave with more than you intend to when you go sniffing at somebody’s shop!
Black is the ultimate haute couture-type scent for me: the beautiful, classical tailoring (“the soft fuzzy powdery” vibe you get, plus the nod to great classics of the past) topped with an absurd flourish (the hot, smoking note of lapsang souchong). It’s still great to wear in sneakers and old jeans, though, which is the sign of a great fragrance in my book!
Erin, I used to live in England. I was introduced to lapsang souchong tea while living there. One of my very strong impressions of this tea (which most folks agree one either loves or hates) is it’s very “tarry” quality. I happen to love it. I remember we used to drink it and with it eat fresh, home-baked black bread, spread with unsalted butter and topped off with lime marmalade!
sd, that sounds like a very stimulating breakfast/snack to me! I shall have to try it.
I’m so glad to see some love for Bulgari and Etro, two of my favorite perfume lines. Excellent post as always, Erin.
Thank you. It’s always comforting to do one of these posts and be reminded that some of the less frequently cited lines still have big fans in the perfume blogosphere. (I know Robin loves Bvlgari, of course, too…)
I have to say here, my almost 5 year old’s current lemming is Etro Anice. She’s an absolute fiend for black licorice in any format, and when she sniffed the Etro, she asked if she could have it and keep it forever. AND if I could put some in a spray bottle of her very own. Unfortunately for her, all I have is a 1 ml sample.
Odd! My three-year-old likes it, too. I was re-sniffing while writing this and she insisted I spray her “Baby Cat” (her favorite stuffed toy)with Anice. Sounds like we both have budding perfume nuts on our hands!
That is soooooo cute about the ‘baby cat.’
Baby Cat often smells great, although she’s a bit grimy in appearance…
Only Italian scent I currently own is Missoni, and I am coincidentally wearing it today! I think it’s a great summer scent – unusual and refreshing.
Missoni is a strange one for me. Perhaps there is an aromachemical in it that I am sensitive to because it smells intensely of lemon-scented dishwashing detergent to me. Detergent mixed with chocolate. I admire the construction of it, but find it a bit syrupy and disconcerting in practice. OTOH, I very much like Thierry Mugler’s Miror des Envies, that smells like a combination of sunblock lotion and Nutella, so perhaps I am not to be trusted on such topics. On a related matter, I LOVE Missoni clothing. I find it distinctive and instantly recognizable and I adore the cuts and colour combinations.
Hi Erin. Yeah, Missoni doesn’t seem to be very popular on the blogs/boards. We all have our odd tastes, I suppose.
It seemed to get a lot of mileage from fans when it first came out. And, of course, LT/TS gave it five stars in Perfumes: the Guide, so I don’t think it’s that odd a taste
Wonder if this is the same chemical offender in Narciso Rodriguez/Her; I got the exact same impression. Good to know; money saved! I liked Missoni’s Acqua, but it’s a little young for me.
I find myself unable to comment properly on this, as I have an anosmia to something. probably a musk, in NR for her – it smells like sweetish water to me. The Missoni is the opposite for me – it smells huge and viscous. Acqua I find a little too beachy (and yes, maybe young) for me. I would prefer to have more imortelle in there… just like in everything else
What, no Eau d’Italie?! Baume du Doge is one of my top-five faves.
I’ve spent a lot of time in Italy (my parents were huge Italophiles), but I’ve never been in the summer, so even my memories of Venice are largely non-stinky! And yes, the crazy driving, useless public services, and endless strikes are all part of the charm — at least if you’re just visiting (I went there a few years ago on business, and it was a VERY different, much less pleasant experience). Still, I wouldn’t mind living out my days in Ravello, à la Gore Vidal… that place is truly paradise.
I like the cohesive quality of the Eau D’Italie line and I would take a bottle of any of their scents if they dropped from the sky, but none of them really call to me like the scents I listed. My favourite is probably Bois D’Ombrie, which is delicious but a little too warming for my average day.
I think you have to spend at least a week in a place to be able to settle in and regard administrative incompentence as part of the charm. I’m normally a laidback person and my aim is to spend enough time on the Italian coast that my natural laziness and hedonism kicks in…
Haven’t been to Italy, but have explored some Italian scents.
I love Bvlgari Black, and Blv also (I need to smell the new one), and think the line in general is quite nice.
I got the big sample pack of the Farmacia ss Annunziata line when it came to LS last year and am still working through it. There are some nice ones, some super-foody ones, couple of stanky ones, and then there is Aurora. All spice with no sugar – amazing. Perfect for autumn – I wore it for Thanksgiving. It has an odd, slightly sandalwood, almost sweet-but-not-sweet drydown that is unique in my experience. Wanting a bottle badly.
Aurora sounds very interesting, spices without the oriental sweetness. But perhaps you have hit upon another problem I have with Italian scents – difficult to get a bottle without prohibitive shipping charges. Sometimes it’s just the feeling that they can be such a bargin in Europe that irritates and prevents me from hitting the “Buy” button…
Maybe, but I can get this one at Luckyscent – I just have to get a job first!! I wore it today and I think the thing that gives it the sort of sandalwood vibe for me is ginger. The notes are Ginger, coriander, cinnamon, pepper, patchouli, nutmeg. Not bad in warm weather, either.
Well, that’s rare – the decent spicy summer scent. Sounds like a winner, there. And I have found that a job of some kind is a critical element of obsessive sample and bottle collecting, yes….
Sounds nice–thanks for the rec.
Erin – I love your writing. Thank you for this article.
Thanks so much, glad you enjoyed it!
Very enjoyable post Erin – thank you. The few Italian scents I’ve tried, seemed very loud to me, although I was very pleasantly surprised recently by Carthusia’s Fiori. It seemed reminiscent of the old White Shoulders in some way. Now you’ve made me want to go back to sampling the Italian scents.
It’s *true*, some of them are loud! If you get a chance to try the Via del Profumo scents (they have them at the Perfumed Court – not affiliated), I would recommend them as quieter compositions.
Thanks! I will.
I can’t say I like the Italian niche perfumes much — Profumum, Villoresi, Nasomatto, etc… Etro might be a contender but somehow it’s flown under my radar so far.
I agree it’s a little difficult to determine just what *is* Italian, though. To me, Bulgari Black is French because it was composed by Annick Menardo. And so are the Eau d’Italie because they are made by Bertrand Duchaufour. Same for the Acqua di Parma (Profumo by Nathalie Lorson, Iris Nobile by Françoise Caron and Francis Kurkdjian).
So what’s Italian? Search me…
Yes, D, that’s why I had trouble defining my inclusion criteria. I decided finally on only Italian lines, still Italian owned. The only ones that meet the more stringent standards of Italian house, Italian nose are the Carthusia (Laura Tonatto, I believe) and Dubrana’s line (though I understand he is French-born). Don’t know about the SMN…
I LOVE LOVE LOVE the original Women’s Fendi. I have 2 colleagues that have been wearing it for years! Gorgeous!
You know, I know I’ve tried it but I don’t remember what it’s like. I’ll have to dig some up from a discounter….
Carlos, Me too!!
I LOVE (adore, covet, obsess) the original Fendi–it’s my holy grail scent! It’s a shame they don’t make it anymore…..
It’s a shame they don’t make any Fendi perfumes any more! I was mad when they discontinued all of them to release Palazzo, and they went and discontinued that one, too…
Hi Erin. Really nice article. Venice is actually the only Italian city I’ve visited (a blissful week during a very chilly October). I’ve heard so many sentiments similar to yours about “the smell,” along with more than one snobbish comment about how it’s not “the REAL Italy”, and you know, I just think it’s a shame if people can’t see the beauty and charm of it. Oh well; their loss. I’d be eager to go back anytime. Also, in general, I’m sort of a fan of places that “don’t work”… they teach us many lessons.
As for Italian perfume: I’m still pretty in love with Acqua di Parma Blu Mediterraneo Fico di Amalfi and have also recently become a fan of Colonia Intensa. My bottle of Eau D’Italie Sienne L’Hiver just arrived this week, and a surprise discovery a few months back was Profumum Victrix, an amazing, bracing peppery bay leaf fragrance that still makes me swoon.
It’s a shame: the first couple of times I sampled Bvlgari Black I loved it as much as anyone, but I put some on recently and detected some dreaded Bvlgari base which has put me off several of their scents. I still like Thé Vert, but I’m sort of accepting that the line is generally not for me.
Joe…curious…what is the dreaded base?
I’m not Joe, but we’ve had this conversation before… there is a weird synthetic/plastic note in a lot/most of their frags. And not synthetic/plastic in a good way, it’s the sort of thing that makes a scent smell cheap.
And yes, I DO realize that last sentence proves I’m joining the ranks of the hopeless, LOL!
Welcome, welcome….
Perfect description Boo…that’s it exactly. The only Bvlgari frags. that I can wear are the vert and the rouge. Eveything else gets that funky plastic note…very unappealing.
Hey Carlos! Boojum hit it on the head: I just detect something very nasty and synthetic in the base of the few I’ve tried — Blv Homme, Homme Soir, and now, sadly, in Black. It just puts me off. I find it weird how certain notes or formulas can do that. And you know how it is: once you smell it, you can never again NOT smell it. As I said, I still love Thé Vert.
Thanks for reminding me of Profumum — I adore their Olibanum, and it’s definitely a line to explore further.
And another Bulgari Black-phobe here; I wanted so badly to share the BB love-fest, but I get a pounding headache if I so much as glance at my sample.
I have to admit that Black was not an instant love for me. I find Omnia easier to wear on a more daily basis, but some people are anosmiac to that one, so it might not work for you.
October is a great time to travel. I have heard a lot of comments about how the Nice I visited is not the “real Nice”, but I always just kind of laugh those off. I understand the spirit behind such remarks, but not many Europeans come over looking to experience the “real Canada”, by staying in the east end of the rust belt city I grew up in, or in some one-horse Manitoba or Quebec town. People are attracted to tourist areas all over the world for a reason – and if they don’t work like Disneyland, so much the better, because, as you say, there’s both a kind of charm and several kinds of lesson in that.
The Luckyscent purchase suggestion tool keeps recommending Victrix when I go to drool over my other green faves, like Heeley Verveine. I haven’t had a lot of luck with Profumum so far, but clearly I need to try this one.
I’m not familiar with that Heeley, but do try it. It can’t hurt. Obviously your experience will be different should you try it, but it was one of those things where I opened the sample vial and *knew* almost immediately that it was for me. I love those moments. I suppose that’s why we end up collecting hundreds of sample vials… ack.
I love those moments, too, despite how expensive they ended up being!
Sinfonia di Note Fleur de Santal and Petal Rose , The Party in Manhattan , Odori Iris , Bois 1920 Sutra Ylang and Sandalo The , Laura Tonatto Safran , Ortigia , Profumi di Pantelleria Dammuso…Italy reeks of great fragrances…ahhh Chianti , take me back to Chianti !!
The Party in Manhattan! I haven’t tried that yet, and kept reminding myself to get a sample before I finally finished this post, but then, of course, forgot. Thanks for a great list…
Oops, and forgot to add that I like Bois 1920 Agrumi Amaria di Sicilia and Vertiver Ambrato. Have you tried these two? They do not seem to be the most popular from the line. Like Sandolo The, too, particularly the beginning moments.
i’m not a vetiver girl , but I do like the Agrumi !
I was surprised to like the Vetiver, too, but then it’s a “Vetiver Plus” type fragrance…..
I love Italy–have been there 11 times and seen quite a bit of it, including Sicily. I have always bought perfume when I am there–most of which one cannot find in the States. I’ve always thought the smells of Italy were fabulous–from the foods to the blossoms on the trees to the perfumed air–although I’ve never been there in the summer. Aria by Carthusia is one of my favorite fragrances–and I bought it in Annacapri at their shop. One of my other favorite places is the original Santa Maria Novella in Florence.
Oh, Filomena, I’m so happy you commented. It’s so rare that anyone mentions being a big fan of Aria di Capri – it’s such a great fragrance and terribly undermentioned. And eleven times! That is impressive, and I’m glad you can confirm that those Italians are keeping some of the good scented stuff for themselves (it always felt that way to me.) Oh, to be at SMN in Florence…
I too love Aria di Capri-got a bottle in Italy . Wore it just yesterday .
Erin,
I have always loved Aria di Capri–I enjoy all of the Carthusia fragrances but Aria is my favorite. I’m glad to see that it’s finally getting some recognition. You would love SMN. The aura is unlike any other perfume shop I’ve ever been in. It’s one of my must-go places in Florence–along with seeing Michaelangelo’s David–I never tire of either one.
Well, I’l just have to get to Florence! Thanks for inspiring me…
As a native Italian, I feel compelled to say *something*, but all I can think of is how even the same scents differ so dramatically according to place; in a (humid, stinky) city (I just got back from a trip to New York—in August; need I say more?), like Milan (where I am from), a steel blade like Prada’s Infusion d’Iris makes perfect sense to me, but when I am in the hills of the Camapagnia, I want very little to interfere with the smell of the olive and fig trees filling the summer air….
Ah, that final clause in the last sentence has given me dream material for the next few nights. (Can you smell in your dreams? I get “smells”, but I wonder if that’s uncommon?) So glad to get a native Italian on here. And yes, in the last sixteen years I’ve grown up a bit and realized it can be stinky and humid in most cities in August – certainly in Toronto, New York, Washington, Paris and Athens!
Ciao greenfigsea,
I couldn’t agree with you more. What better scents are there than of olive and fig trees!
Hi Erin,
I love Italian scents too. It is true, it is difficult to get the good ones here in the US. Have you ever tried the Trussardi line of perfumes? You should if you get the chance. Ciao
You know, I’ve seen Trussardi perfumes many times, but never sampled. Odd. Thanks for letting me know they’re worth checking out.