Profumum Confetto

The innocence of childhood pleasures as experienced through the prism of sugared almonds. That is the essence of Confetto, one of two Profumum Roma fragrances that celebrates the joy of almonds. However, it takes a very different approach from its more masculine counterpart, Antico Caruso. With Confetto, the focus is purely gourmand in nature, centered around a fluffy, very unisex, pink and white confection infused with vanilla.

Source: Profumum Roma website.

Source: Profumum Roma website.

Confetto is a concentrated eau de parfum that was released in 1996. Profumum has a lovely description of it on their website:

Both woman and child.
Capricious and gentle like a curl in the wind,
like candy floss, like a black silk
petticoat raised by the swirl of the merry go round.
Outspreads harmoniously to recall innocent or maybe forbidden delicacies.
[Notes:] Almond, anise, musk, amber, vanilla.

Confetto opens on my skin with sugared almonds, vanilla, and a clean white musk, trailed by a hint of fresh, green anise. It’s a very sugared scent, redolent of cotton candy and hyper-saturated carnival treats, but it’s actually less sweet than I had anticipated. Profumum’s gourmands are renowned for being quite over-the-top, undoubtedly due to their singular focus and extremely concentrated nature, but I’ve certainly smelled much sweeter, more syrupy fragrances lately than Confetto. (I shall endeavour not to bring up my trauma at the hands of Fusion Sacrée (Lui), yet again.)

Source: hatdieungon.vn

Sugared almonds. Source: hatdieungon.vn

It’s a relative matter, I grant you. On the sweetness scale of 10, I would firmly place most of the Profumum’s gourmands at around an 8 or so. That said, Confetto still surprised me a little, especially in the opening hour when there was a tiny touch of freshness, thanks to the anise. Confetto’s white musk also adds to that sense, though I find it too sharp for quite a few hours. (I loathe white musk, so put that comment into context.) The other helpful aspect is that Confetto is much lighter in feel than many of its siblings in the line which seem positively opaque in comparison. It certainly is airier, fluffier, and drier than Dulcis in Fundo, a waffle cones and vanilla scent that is exceptionally rich. So, for me, Confetto would initially rank as a 7 on the sweetness scale, before moving up to an 8, while Dulcis in Fundo would be a consistent 9.

Source: wedding-flowers-and-reception-ideas.com

Source: wedding-flowers-and-reception-ideas.com

From afar, Confetto smells primarily of “Jordan almonds” or Italian “confetti,” the hard-shelled, vanilla-coated almond candies often given at weddings. It is also thoroughly infused with a pink or white candy floss vanilla. I have mixed feelings about the latter. As someone who doesn’t particularly like gourmand fragrances, that sort of vanilla always feels and smells a little cheap to me. I prefer a richer, smoother, deeper vanilla that is more like creamy custard or mousse. Still, somehow, the combination generally works for Confetto.

Confetto is quite a simple, uncomplicated fragrance, and very linear. I always say that there is nothing wrong with linearity if you like the scent in question, so that is not a slam. But the fact remains that Confetto’s core essence of sugared almonds with very sweet vanilla and clean, white musk never really changes. All that happens is that some of Confetto’s nuances fluctuate in prominence. For example, the white musk varies in its sharpness or significance over the course of the perfume’s development. The anise is always a tertiary player on my skin, but, around the end of the 3rd hour, it seems to disappear completely, only to suddenly return. For much of the middle portion of Confetto, it becomes a bit of a ghost note, weaving in and out of the sidelines, before it fades away entirely at the start of the 8th hour.

Pink meringues. Source: misslemon.eu

Pink meringues. Source: misslemon.eu

The most significant change to Confetto occurs midway in the second hour when heliotrope arrives. None of the lists that I have seen mention the flower, but I’d swear it’s in the perfume. Every one of heliotrope’s characteristic nuances appears, particularly the almond-vanilla meringue and the Play-Doh note. I’ve never once had a purely almond fragrance smell like Play-Doh, but it frequently happens with heliotrope. And it happens here with Confetto, as well.

Source: smarterthanmatt.blogspot.com

Source: smarterthanmatt.blogspot.com

I’ll be honest, there is something a tiny bit plastic-y to the scent at this point. The heliotrope’s almond meringue and Play-Doh tonalities lack the smoothness and luxuriousness of the same note in Guerlain‘s Cuir Beluga. The plastic touch does not appear here often, and it’s certainly not there all the time, but a minuscule wisp of it does pop up every now and then if you sniff really hard. In fact, I read accounts on MakeupAlley where two people definitely struggled with the Play-Doh and the plastic, which they seem to experience as separate things:

  • Remember the baby doll you had as a little girl — when you pressed it to your face it smelled of sweet rubber or plastic and an aroma vaguely approaching talcum powder. This is exactly what Confetto smells like.
  • The combination of sugary sweet and musk is not as appealing as I expected and can be stifling full strength. I get the notes that others mention…plastic, Play-Doh, cheapish vanillic almond.

My experience was nowhere close to either account, but I think that skin chemistry is clearly going to impact just how the heliotrope or vanilla manifest themselves on your skin. On me, the Play-Doh aroma only lasts about an hour, and the very muted, minor plastic undertones a little less.

Source: 8tracks.com

Source: 8tracks.com

After that, Confetto returns to its singular, simple focus of fluffy sweetness with sugared almonds and candy floss vanilla, followed by white musk that is occasionally sharp, and a tiny dash of fresh, green anise. Confetto remains that way that until its very end when it dies away in a blur of sweetened almonds with vanilla.

All in all, Confetto lasted just short of 13.5 hours on my perfume consuming skin. Its projection was initially strong with 3 small squirts from my atomizer, amounting to 1 really big spray from an actual bottle. The sillage dropped to just above the skin after 90 minutes, but Confetto became a skin scent at the 5.5 hour mark. It was still easy to detect without any great effort when I brought my arm to my nose, and only became more imperceptible up close around the 9th hour.

For me, Confetto is a fragrance that feels very innocent and playful. A lot of the time, there is a certain comforting aspect to its sweetness. A few of the things that I’ve pointed out really amount to nit-picking because they are all subtle and/or minor. The vanilla is the only aspect of the scent that I’m truly a little dubious about. To my nose and for me personally, cotton candy vanilla always smells young and a little cheap. I simply am not drawn to it the way I am to a different sort of vanilla. That said, I thoroughly enjoyed the two times I wore Confetto, mostly because I’m a sucker for almonds and heliotrope. So, I would certainly wear Confetto on occasion if a bottle fell into my lap. In fact, I thought it was rather a perfect bedtime scent. But I’m afraid I don’t love either gourmands or cotton candy enough to actually buy it, especially as it’s not exactly cheap for the simple scent in question.

In short, it’s a question of individual tastes. There are plenty of people who adore the cotton candy aspect of fragrances like Aquolina‘s Pink Sugar. If those people also love sugared almonds, then they should try Confetto.

Source: popscreen.com

Source: popscreen.com

Speaking of scents with a similar vibe, people frequently bring up Hypnotic Poison when talking about Confetto. It’s been years since I smelled the Dior fragrance, so I admit my memory is a little rough as to the nuances, but I don’t think Hypnotic Poison is identical or an exact dupe for Confetto. There are some differences. Hypnotic Poison has no anise to my memory, and it certainly never conveyed any minty freshness as Confetto occasionally does. The Dior fragrance is more woody and golden, if I recall, and doesn’t read as pink and white the way Confetto does. According to Fragrantica, Hypnotic Poison also has quite a floral component, even if it’s not as significant as the almonds and vanilla. And I truly don’t recall a cotton candy vibe to the vanilla in Hypnotic Poison. Then again, as I mentioned earlier, it’s been years since I smelled Hypnotic Poison, so my memory of the finer points may well be off.

The reactions to Confetto are generally the same, no matter what site you look at. Whether it is Luckyscent, Fragrantica, or MakeupAlley, the responses generally boil to one or more of the following refrains:

  • Confetto is exactly like Dior‘s Hypnotic Poison;
  • Confetto is nothing like Hypnotic Poison, (e.g., it is “a wonderful liquorice almond in a bed of soft spices which I find a little bit herbal sweet through the minty vanilla in the background”);
  • Confetto is similar to Hypnotic Poison, but lighter and drier in nature;
  • Confetto is absolutely delicious, addictive, with grown-up depth, a luxurious feel, and worth every penny;
  • it is excessively sweet and cloying, with a similarity to a cheap, department store fragrance, a Sephora rollerball, or something from Victoria’s Secret. As such, it is too expensive for the scent in question;
  • it has a Play-Doh or plastic note;
  • the white musk ruins the drydown;
  • the amber is perfectly balanced and doesn’t overwhelm the central focus on sugared almonds with anise; and/or
  • Confetto has astounding longevity.
Pink candy floss or cotton candy. Source: Favim.com.

Pink candy floss or cotton candy. Source: Favim.com.

As you can see, there is a complete split in opinion, with the exception of Confetto’s longevity. Honestly, I think all of this stems from differences in skin chemistry. Whether Confetto’s vanilla takes on a plastic-y, “screechy” profile, its heliotrope turns into pure Play-Doh, its sugariness seems like cheap cotton candy, or its white musk feels too sharp is going to depend on the person in question, as well as the sorts of things that they like. One person’s horrible Play-Doh is actually another person’s comforting, childhood memory; and “sweetness” is even more of a subjective, personal interpretation.

Skin chemistry also explains the sharply divergent assessments of Confetto’s sillage. For many people, the perfume is a “beast,” while others think it is so soft that it is perfectly suitable for the office. Obviously, how much you apply makes a difference, and I’d generally recommend using less of a Profumum scent than you would a normal fragrance, unless potency is no problem for you. That said, I was extremely interested to read one comment on MakeupAlley which said that Confetto was lighter and airier when sprayed, but richer and heavier when dabbed. I must say, I personally haven’t noticed such a difference. In fact, as a general rule, aerosolisation usually makes a fragrance much stronger, but it should be clear by now that skin chemistry can do some crazy things and there is no one absolute answer when it comes to perfumery.

In general, the only thing that everyone agrees upon is that Profumum scents have great longevity. I think it’s true for Confetto as well. As a whole, all Profumum’s creations are extrait or pure parfums in nature with an almost unheard of 42%-44% concentration. The latter is one reason why many people feel the brand’s high prices are justified. In the case of Confetto, however, the $240 cost issue is a little fuzzier given the similarity to some cheaper options. It’s really going to come down to a personal evaluation of just how much you love the perfume.

As a side note, I know more men who wear Confetto than I do women, so it clearly has a unisex appeal. It also is a very easy, uncomplicated fragrance with versatility that can be worn to the office, as well as on casual occasions.

In short, if you love gourmands — and sugared almonds in specific — give Confetto a sniff.

DETAILS:
Cost & Availability: Confetto is an Eau de Parfums with Extrait concentration that only comes in a large 3.4 oz/100 ml bottle, and costs $240 or €179. Profumum doesn’t have an e-shop from which you can buy their fragrances directly. In the U.S.: Confetto is available from Luckyscent and OsswaldNYC. Both sites sell samples at different prices. As a side note, Profumum says that the perfume is accompanied by body products like “body milk” or “Shower bath.” Outside the U.S.: In the U.K., Profumum is sold at Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie in Harrods. Elsewhere, you can generally find the Profumum line at Paris’ Printemps store, Premiere Avenue in France (which ships world-wide), France’s Soleil d’Or, the Netherlands’ Celeste, Hungary’s Neroli, Switzerland’s Osswald, and Russia’s Lenoma boutiques. Taizo in Cannes also carries Profumum and says they ship worldwide, but I don’t see an e-store. Profumum’s website says that their fragrances are carried in a large number of small stores from Copenhagen to Poland, other parts of France, the rest of Europe, and, of course, Italy. You can use the Profumum Store Locator located on the left of the page linked to above. Samples: Surrender to Chance carries samples of Confetto starting at $6.99 for a 1 ml vial. You can also order vials from Luckyscent or Osswald. The latter has a sample program for U.S. customers along with free shipping, though there is a 3-item minimum.

Oriza L. Legrand Muguet Fleuri Giveaway Winners

Lily of the Valley, or Muguet.

Lily of the Valley, or Muguet.

Random.org has spoken, and I have the names of the fifteen winners for the huge Muguet Fleuri perfume giveaway so generously provided by Oriza L. Legrand Parfums (“Oriza“).

THE WINNERS:

There were 92 people who entered, and Random.org selected the following 15 names:

Shawna LiskStephanAna (A.)RnoceanThe Ascetic LibertineCarolyn GudgelNemoImeldaCarolineMalmaisonToraNancySGMegan in St. MaximeMaybell, and Anita M!

Kafkaesque Oriza Muguet Fleuri Winners

Congratulations to you all! You will each get ONE 10 ml travel spray of the new Muguet Fleuri from Oriza L. Legrand.

You have THREE (3) days to contact me with your shipping information. I will then forward that information on to Oriza in Paris. The deadline is end of the day, 11:59 p.m. Central Standard Time in the U.S. on Monday April 21st. Please send an email to Akafkaesquelife @ gmail . com  (all one word, scrunched together) with the necessary information.

If I fail to hear from you within the deadline, I will give the gift to the next person on the list shown above, and/or move the winners up by one.

SHIPPING:

Oriza will send the prizes directly to the winners. Given that the company is located in the Paris, it may take some time (up to 2 weeks, depending on your location and Customs processing) for you to receive your gift. It may take even little longer if your country has really nightmarish customs issues.

Neither Oriza L. Legrand nor I am responsible for items that are destroyed by customs or that are lost in transit for some reason.

FINALLY:

I would like to thank you Oriza’s two owners, Hugo Lambert and Franck Belaiche, for their enormous generosity, kindness and thoughtfulness in offering so many wonderful prizes. They have put their heart and soul into Oriza, trying to stay true to its great legacy, working to keep it relevant in today’s modern world, and doing it all on their own. I wish them nothing but the greatest success, and I fervently hope that this giveaway sparks more interest in a venerable house that goes back almost 300 years. 

Source: allpolus.com

Source: allpolus.com

I also hope the winners will let me know what they think of Muguet Fleuri when they receive it and have the chance to try it. 

For those who didn’t win today, you can always order samples of Oriza’s creations directly from the company. Almost all the fragrances (except for  Foin Fraîchement Coupé) come in a sample set that costs €9 for a total of 7 fragrances, each in a 2 ml spray vial. Oriza’s international retailers are also listed at the end of this post.

As a side note, if you are the U.S., Luckyscent will soon carry the entire Oriza line — including the new Muguet Fleuri, the soaps and candles, sometime this week. If you are in New York, you can always try Oriza’s fragrances at JuJu s’Amuse, though I don’t know if they’ve received the new release yet.

Thank you to everyone for stopping by, and have a lovely weekend.

DETAILS:
Cost & Availability: Muguet Fleuri is an eau de parfum that comes in a 100 ml or 3.4 oz bottle, and costs €90. Muguet Fleuri is available directly from Oriza’s e-store. A great sample set is also available from the e-Store (scroll down midway to the page and it’s on the right.) The set includes 7 fragrances in the range, except for Foin Fraîchement Coupé, with each scent coming in 2 ml spray vials. The whole thing costs a low €9. Separate shipping is listed as €9, but a friend said he was charged only €7. Oriza ships globally, as I’ve had readers order the sample set from all over. In the U.S.: Luckyscent should get the Oriza L. Legrand line next week. Right now, it is carried at New York’s JuJu s’amuse. It has two locations, and I’ve provided the number for one, in case you want to check whether they do phone orders: 100 Thompson Street New York, NY 10012, with Ph: (212) 226.1201; but, also, 1220 Lexington Avenue (at 82nd Street), New York, NY 10018. Other vendors in Europe: Oriza’s perfumes are also sold at Paris’ Marie-Antoinette (which was my favorite perfume shop in Paris), as well as one store in Sweden. In the Netherlands, the Oriza line is carried at ParfuMaria. Germany’s First in Fragrance also carries the Oriza Legrand line, but Muguet Fleuri is not shown on their website at this time. Oriza L. Legrand is also sold at a few places in Japan. For details on those retailers and the Swedish store, you can check Oriza Points of Sale page.

Profumum Fumidus

Source: hqoboi.com

Source: hqoboi.com

The roof! The roof! The roof is on Fire!’ The lyrics of the old ’80s song often run through my mind when I wear Fumidus, a smoky tank of a fragrance centered on vetiver and birch, with beautiful touches of salty, peaty, Laphroaig single-malt whiskey. It may be a creation from an Italian perfume house, but Fumidus conjures up images for me of a small house by a Scottish or Irish seaside village. Outdoor fires burn vetiver bricks, as a man sips his Islay scotch, and his old car rumbles idly by to the side, releasing whiffs of rubber and diesel, before quickly dying away. A thick haze of black smoke lies over the house, growing stronger with every passing minute, and soon turns into a vetiver smoke signal going up to Mars.

Source: wallpaperno.com

Source: wallpaperno.com

Fumidus is a behemoth of smoky greenness, so dark that it verges on black. Nay, it actually is visually black for me, at least at first. If it were a vehicle, it wouldn’t be some sleek, sporty Italian number, but a lumbering, heavy, intimidating, military Sherman tank intended to plow down everything in its path. And, for the most part, I mean that in quite a good way. But let’s be clear about a few things right from the start: Fumidus is a challenging fragrance that requires some patience; you must love both vetiver and birch tar in all their facets; and there is nothing remotely unisex about this fragrance. Nothing. Not one iota. It is pure masculinity with an unrepentant swagger and enough testosterone to give Arnold Schwarzenegger pause.

Source: Profumum website.

Source: Profumum website.

Fumidus is an eau de parfum from Profumum Roma that was released in 1996, and its name seems intended to give you full warning of what it is all about. Profumum‘s website writes quite simply:

Aristocratic white smoke of prestigious cigars
diffuses in chambers heated
by peaty Scottish whiskies
and the warmth of fireplaces burning oak logs.
[Notes:] Vetiver, Smoked birch

I don’t think that summation covers the half of it! Luckyscent‘s description is much more on-point and apt, in my opinion:

Fumidus means smoky, and smoky it is. The smokiness of aged Laphroaig scotch served neat, It is also earthy – the earthiness of rich, freshly tilled land surrounded by uncut forest. Deep and magnetic and commanding, this blend of rich peat, grassy vetiver and brisk birch conjures up a vast estate and its moody young lord making his way through the fog on an unruly stallion. It’s outdoorsy, but in a way that makes it clear that you don’t just work in the forest, you own that forest yourself, along with a good bit of grassland and quite possibly a castle. Unmistakably masculine and very sexy.

[Notes:] Essence of distilled scotch, vetiver root, birch bark.

Source: nyloveswhisky.com

Source: nyloveswhisky.com

Fumidus opens on my skin with a rich, heavy, very concentrated wave of single-malt whiskey from the Islay isle — and, God, is it fantastic. I have a particular weakness for Laphroaig (though Laguvulin 16 is also superb), and that is precisely what is pulsating off my skin like a sonic sound wave. Boozy, just barely sweetened, very smoky, Islay scotch, thoroughly infused with peaty bog and a touch of salt.

It completely evokes Scotland or Ireland by the coast, as the salty sea air passes over the cliffs and moves over earthy, dank soil on its way to a small farmhouse. In front of it, a large campfire is burning birch logs and vetiver bricks. A man sips scotch, and contemplates the singed woods that are slowly going up in smoke. A sliver of compost lies fermenting in the corner, near his old car. It lies idling, its engines emitting rubber and diesel which mixes in with the smell of its rough, broken leather. They all rise up, swirling into the dark haze that lies like an oily, black blanket over the house.

Talisker, an Islay single malt. Photo: Savuista at the Savuista blog.http://savuista.blogspot.com/2013_10_01_archive.html

Talisker, an Islay single malt, on burnt wood in a camp fire. Photo: Savuista at the Savuista blog.http://savuista.blogspot.com/2013_10_01_archive.html

The best parts of Fumidus’ opening for me is the smoky, peaty Scotch commingled with the saltiness, the dank earth and, yes, the touch of compost. Fumidus is far from being an “aquatic” fragrance, in the way that we classify such things, but it briefly portrays an almost aquatic saltiness from a Northern Atlantic seaside town better than anything I’ve encountered in a while. It merely happens to be the salty feel of vetiver and burning smoke, instead of kelp. (For actual “kelp,” and genuine Northern sea aromas, Profumum has Acqua di Sale.) The small slivers of rubber and diesel at Fumidus’ edges add to the originality of the mix, though the diesel only lasts about 10 minutes, at most, on my skin.

Source: Savuista at savuista.blogspot.com. (Direct website link embedded within.)

Source: Savuista at savuista.blogspot.com. (Direct website link embedded within.)

I’m slightly less enthused by the sheer rawness of the burning vetiver, but that is solely because of my personal issues with the note. As I’ve mentioned a few times in the past, I am not the world’s greatest vetiver lover, especially when it is in soliflore or concentrated form. I also prefer a particular type of vetiver aroma, like the earthier dank version that is in Vetiverus by Olivier & Co. For me, the fresher and simultaneously almost raw sort of smoky vetiver that is in Fumidus is much more challenging. If it weren’t quite so intense, it might be easier. That said, its peaty, marshy, almost fungal aspects, and the way it reeks of sweetness and booze… those parts are fantastic. The single-malt sweetness is so incredibly rich, nuanced, and deep that I want much, much more of it. The amount that appears on my skin isn’t enormous, alas.

There is a definite oiliness to Fumidus that I think speaks to the perfume’s character as a whole. It goes beyond the mere issue of tarriness, or Fumidus’ occasionally rubbered undertones. It’s also quite separate from the heaviness of that vetiver stew. Rather, there is an unctuousness to Fumidus that feels as though extremely concentrated essences were used to create an attar-like thickness. Fumidus feels quite opaque, and, as such, it fully bears the Profumum Roma signature. Many of their supposed “eau de parfums” are actually Extraits, reportedly coming in at a whopping 42%-44% in concentration, and Fumidus feels heavier than most.

Photo: My own.

Photo: My own.

It also has good sillage at first. Using the dabbed equivalent of one large spray from an actual perfume bottle, I experienced roughly 3 inches in projection, though it felt like a solid brick wall in terms of heft and weight. I suspect most people’s usual 2 spray quantity would yield a much more forceful cloud. Perhaps a little too forceful for most practical purposes. As I noted at the start, Fumidus is a challenging fragrance that may require a little patience at first, and initially going to town with the number of sprays may not be the wisest thing until you get used to it.

I have to wonder about Fumidus’ list of notes, and whether it is complete. I’ve noticed in the past that Profumum Roma has a tendency to give a nutshell synopsis of the ingredients in its fragrances, and to skip over the finer points. With Fumidus, it feels as if there may be some sort of resin or benzoin underlying all that smoky vetiver, as Fumidus turns much richer and slightly sweeter after 30 minutes. It’s a different sort of sweetness than the boozy scotch, and feels more like styrax or some balm. Whatever the reason or source, it helps wipe away the diesel aroma entirely, while also fractionally softening some of the rubber.

Tar pit bubbles. Source: Los Angeles' La Brea tar and asphalt pits. tarpits.org

Tar pit bubbles. Source: Los Angeles’ La Brea tar and asphalt pits. tarpits.org

The birch, however, is beginning to resemble something out of La Brea’s famous tar pits in Los Angeles. In fact, it feels as though it’s practically bubbling. As the fire continues to burn the vetiver logs, the campfire smoke billows out into the skin. The earthy, almost marshy muskiness that I love so much fades away about 45 minutes in, leaving a vetiver that is primarily smoked and only a little bit boozy. It’s a mix that is probably incredibly sexy and hot on the right man, but I cannot imagine any woman pulling it off. Frankly, not every man could (or may want to) either.

David Gandy for Esquire Mexico (December 2013). Photo: John Russo. Source:  davidjamesgandy.blogspot.com

David Gandy for Esquire Mexico (December 2013). Photo: John Russo. Source: davidjamesgandy.blogspot.com

However, on the right man… on the right man, Fumidus would be riveting. He would definitely be wearing all black and leather, like one of the Ramones. Or, he would be in a bespoke power suit and getting out of a Bentley. There is nothing in-between, in my opinion. Absolutely none. Fumidus is too much of a balls-to-the-wall explosion of darkness and untrammeled intensity. It feels ferocious, untamed, aggressively masculine — and utterly unrepentant about any of it. In fact, it would probably give you a cheeky grin at thinking it was a simple vetiver fragrance. Either that, or snarl in your face before throwing back a neat three-fingers of Laphroaig.

Mads Mikkelsen as Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Source: wallpaperup.com

Mads Mikkelsen as Dr. Hannibal Lecter. Source: wallpaperup.com

In short, Fumidus’ brutishness in the opening hours feels quite feral. It merely happens to be disguised or cloaked in the veneer of a civilized sophisticate’s taste for expensive scotch. None of that is an insult, by the way. I think there is something to be deeply admired about a fragrance that is so unapologetic about having a purely raw and untamed heart. I respect its brute force enormously, as well as its smoldering intensity and how it plays with something as refined as single-malt scotch in a sea of more primitive darkness. Now that I think of it, Fumidus would be a good scent, symbolically, for the television version of Hannibal, except Mads Mikkelsen’s character would never be as obvious as Fumidus can be.

Photo: Narinder Nanu via washingtonpost.com

Photo: Narinder Nanu via washingtonpost.com

Fumidus doesn’t change drastically at its core for quite a few hours. Some of the subtler aspects may fade away, before briefly popping back up at the periphery, but the perfume’s essence continues to be various manifestations of vetiver and birch, with vetiver coming out ahead. Fumidus’ sillage drops down at the end of the first hour to roughly 2 inches above the skin, where it stays for a while. The biggest change, however, is that the beautiful booziness begins to fade at the end of the second hour and the start of the third. Until then, the vetiver and birch had been in a two-way race for the top spot, with the vetiver leading by a nose, while the Laphraoig quietly trailed behind. By the middle of the 4th hour, the scotch is far behind, and it falls out of the race entirely by the start of the 5th hour.

In its middle stage, beginning roughly around about the 4.5 hour mark, Fumidus turns essentially into a more concentrated, smokier vetiver soliflore. I’ve read a few people  who say that Fumidus’ drydown is like that of Chanel‘s famous Sycomore, but I find extreme differences. On my skin, Sycomore never wafted hardcore birch smoke or tarriness. It also never felt like a soliflore. In its later phase, I had impressions of burnt caramel, black cocoa powder, incense, and dry earth. Flickering hints of evergreen from a juniper note also added a certain chilly coolness which offset Sycomore’s smoky earthiness, as did the creamy sandalwood in the base. But the main difference is the vetiver’s smokiness. It was significantly softer and much smoother in Sycomore. Fumidus feels like smoked vetiver on steroids. Sycomore is not. Neither brutish force nor opaque singularity are words that I’d use to describe the Chanel scent.

And Fumidus is quite singular in its focus. On my skin, it turns into campfire smoked vetiver with singed woods in the middle phase, then into purely smoked vetiver, before finally ending up as rather minty vetiver with only subtle traces of smokiness. My skin has a tendency to turn Haitian vetiver into something quite fresh, bright green, and peppermint-like, so once the birch in Fumidus fades away as a hefty presence, the grass’ other nuances come more to the forefront. In its final moments, Fumidus is like a thin smear of vetiver greenness, and nothing more. All in all, it lasted an enormous 15.75 hours on my perfume consuming skin, with the equivalent of one spray from an actual bottle. It’s not surprising. Profumum Roma’s fragrances last for an eternity, and on people with normal skin, quite easily in excess of 24 hours.

Photo: My own.

Photo: My own.

There are mixed reviews for Fumidus out there, primarily because of the sheer intensity of its smokiness. As one person on Fragrantica called “Scentzilla” put it so well, “what the hell did you expect from a perfume that is named ‘FUMIDUS’, I ask you?” In all fairness, however, for a few people, the specific difficulty seems to be an ashtray-like nuance to the burnt birch wood:

Seems it’s a love or hate thing with this scent– to me it smells like someone spilled some Scotch into an ashtray full of cigarette butts. Had to wash it off.

There are numerous Basenotes threads devoted to Fumidus, from its official entry page where someone brings up Chanel’s Sycomore once again, to general discussion threads. In one beautifully evocative description, a chap talks about Fumidus as perfume Art, with a smell that also bordered on that of oil paints:

What a beautiful example of perfume as art. I was initially repulsed, trying to decide why this would be proffered as a perfume to be worn on the body. The initial blast of birch tar was an oil painting completed, but propped in the corner waiting to dry. The smell of an artist awake until the final stroke was applied.

I don’t get the smoke, but I get the effort. This is a perfume that captures a moment. Having spent innumerable hours in an artist’s studio, I get no warm outdoorsy notes, but straight up painting. Maybe the woody scented breeze through an open studio window. Like spending an afternoon with Picasso. The perfect fragrance for a day at the art museum. I shall have an entire bottle for that purpose alone.

Sid Vicious via oxforddnb.com

Sid Vicious via oxforddnb.com

In another thread, a commentator called “Sloan” has a review that made me nod in agreement, especially at his comparison to Sid Vicious. “Sloan” loves Fumidus, though he admits bluntly that he hated it at first because he judged it too quickly and without adequate patience:

I have since come around to developing a serious appreciation for this fragrance. My original negative comments were a prime example of judging a fragrance before giving it a thorough wearing. After testing a majority of the line, Fumidus has since become my first and only full bottle purchase from Profumum and an all-time favorite.

Fumidus is a stunning smoky, woody, earhty vetiver fragrance with a ghost of Scotch. The smoked birch opening has a “sod off” snarl that would have made Sid Vicious green with envy. As the smokier top notes fade, the benzoin note adds a Scotch element. Recalls the smoky, peaty Laphroaig Scotch, which has an odor similar to tincture of benzoin or Benzocaine. The drydown is an earthy vetiver reminiscent of Lorenzo Villoresi’s amazing Vetiver with some wood added to the mix. Ferocious at and brutish times, Fumidus is a beast that energizes my inner animal. A complex, shape shifting, powerhouse not for the meek. The wearing experience is akin to a symbiotic relationship in which Fumidus and the wearer wear each other. Remember, patience and persistence is required.

Another person who changed his mind about Fumidus wrote:

I’ve been trying this one out lately. At first I hated it, mostly because I felt there was some sort of compost or fungus note in there, but now I’m really growing found of it.

A few things it reminds me of:
– The wet rich earthy soil behind my backyard. I live in a somewhat foresty area.
– My elementary school playground. The floor was covered in a birch like wood. After a rainshower the the entire place smelt like Fumidus.
– The inside of a old wooden cabin with a fire inside going off, somewhere out in the middle of the nowhere.

Birch bark. Photo: Hattie Wilcox at Available Light Only photography. availablelightonly.com/

Birch bark. Photo: Hattie Wilcox at Available Light Only photography. availablelightonly.com/

As should be clear by now, Fumidus is quite a “love it/loathe it” scent, so there are some very negative reviews on Basenotes as well. In the official thread for the fragrance, some commentators write:

  • Scotch and vetiver – these notes I love. Birch bark – this I don’t. I think it’s a shame that birch bark was included in this scent because I think the other notes in Fumidus are so outstanding: The Scotch and vetiver are strong enough to survive through the birch bark miasma… they exhibit the potential of forming an intriguing accord, but, alas, in the end they are undone by the presence of lesser than they. I love the smokiness and the intriguing combination of scotch and vetiver of the fragrance, and this would be a great fragrance if it weren’t for the birch.
  • I get mildew; chestnut; the wet, black rot of forest-floor compost; rooty vetiver. I’m afraid I find the overall effect to be decidedly disgusting. [¶] On the other hand, it’s not the disgusting of incompetence or indifference, and I can certainly envision some sick bastard enjoying this. It’s just an extreme scent. If the description appeals to you, don’t be too put off by the predominance of thumbs down. [¶]I would imagine that to enjoy this, you would have to really like Frederick Malle’s Vetiver Extraordinare, but find VE too tame and sanitized.
  • Fumidus was a scrubber for me. As much as I love the raw vetiver in MPG RdV and Frederic Malle’s VE, the smoke in this fragrance just really blows me away. It smells a bit like a stale, half-smoked cigar drenched in scotch.. over top of a great, raw vetiver. It’s just a bit too dirty – I wish there was something in here to temper it a bit. [Emphasis to names added by me.]
Irish peat bricks in an outdoor fire. Source: freeirishphotos.com

Irish peat bricks in an outdoor fire. Source: freeirishphotos.com

At a much harsher extreme is the review from “Alfarom” who writes:

The notes list is promising the scent is definitely disappointing. Ok, there are three ways to approach this review for me:

1) Great perfume if you like to burn wet vetiver roots in the fireplace (translated: A LOT OF SMOKE) while drinking some Scotch and in the meantime you don’t realize your place is going on fire.

2) great perfume if you want to smell like you’ve just been rescued from you mountain hut that has gone on fire.

3) great perfume if you like to set fire to the trashcan where you have wasted an old vetiver fragrance gone bad.

To me it simply smells horrible, unpleasant and definitely unbalanced on the smoky side. Sorry, I’ve to pass on this one.

I think “Alfarom” is a great critic, and I usually agree with him 8 times out of 10. In this case, though, I like Fumidus significantly more than he does. I happen to love intense smokiness, and the Laphroaig part blows me away, even if it only lasts a few hours. My thing is not so much the smokiness, as the fact that I simply don’t like smoky vetiver all that much. So, ultimately, I really do end up in the same place as he does, in giving Fumidus a personal pass.

At the end of the day, Fumidus is not a scent for the faint of heart, and your feelings about it are really going to come down to your personal tastes, not to mention your skin chemistry. It is an extremely challenging fragrance — and it is intentionally crafted that way. So, if you’re a hardcore vetiver lover, give it a try, but also exercise a little patience. There is beauty in its raw, primitive, feral nature, but not everyone likes untamed beasts. On the right man, though, with the right skin chemistry, I think Fumidus would be utterly captivating.

DETAILS:
Cost & Availability: Fumidus is an Eau de Parfum with Extrait concentration that only comes in a large 3.4 oz/100 ml bottle which costs $240 or €179. Profumum doesn’t have an e-shop from which you can buy their fragrances directly. In the U.S.: Fumidus is available from Luckyscent and OsswaldNYC. Both sites sell samples at different costs.. Outside the U.S.: In the UK, Profumum perfumes are sold at Roja Dove’s Haute Parfumerie in Harrods. Elsewhere, you can generally find Profumum line at Paris’ Printemps store, Premiere Avenue in France, France’s Soleil d’Or, the Netherlands’ Celeste (which does not include Fumidus amongst its website choices), Hungary’s Neroli, Switzerland’s Osswald, and Russia’s Lenoma boutiques. Premiere Avenue sells Fumidus for €190. According to the Profumum website, their fragrances are carried in a large number of small stores from Copenhagen to the Netherlands, Poland, France, the rest of Europe, and, of course, Italy. You can use the Profumum Store Locator located on the left of the page linked to above. Samples: Surrender to Chance carries samples of Fumidus starting at $6.99 for a 1 ml vial. You can also order from Luckyscent.

Perfume Giveaway: Oriza L. Legrand Muguet Fleuri

I’m really happy to announce that Oriza L. Legrand (“Oriza“) has generously offered a huge giveaway of fifteen (15!) travel sprays of its latest fragrance, Muguet Fleuri. This is an International and U.S. giveaway with no geographic restrictions, either, so you can be anywhere in the world.

Art by Rachel Anderson. Source: zdjecia.nurka.pl

Art by Rachel Anderson. Source: zdjecia.nurka.pl

I’ve just posted my review for Muguet Fleuri which I think is a Spring symphony, with a radiant beginning centered around lilies of the valley, wild violets, peppered violet leaves, and mossy greenness. You can read the review for the full details but, for me, Muguet Fleuri feels like Chypre Mousse‘s more floral, Spring sister. It’s still an enchanted forest, but autumn has been washed away in a spirit of rebirth and new beginnings, and the fairies have come out to play in a sea of green, white, and purple. 

THE PRIZES:

Fifteen (15) readers will each get ONE (1) purse spray of 10 ml/0.33 oz of Muguet Fleuri. Just to be crystal clear, the prize is not a full bottle, but a travel spray of 10 ml.

ENTRY REQUIREMENTS & TECHNICAL DETAILS:

Please leave a comment letting me know either your favorite muguet (lily of the valley) fragrance, your favorite scent from Oriza L. Legrand, or the scent that best captures Spring for you.

The entry period lasts until the end of Friday, April 18th at 11:59 p.m. Central Standard Time (CST) in the U.S. which is -6:00 GMT (Greenwich Mean Time). There is only one entry per person.

The 15 winners will be chosen by Random.org, and will be announced in a separate post sometime the next day on Saturday, April 19th.

As a side note, I usually respond to each comment individually, but I won’t this time due to a rather busy schedule. I’ll merely leave occasional replies, indicating where someone is on the list.

Photo: encreviolette.unblog.fr

Photo: encreviolette.unblog.fr

WINNERS & EMAILS:

Once I post the winners, you have THREE (3) days to contact me with your shipping information. Deadline is end of the day, my time, on Monday, April 21st. Please send an email to Akafkaesquelife @ gmail . com  (all one word, scrunched together) with your shipping details. I will then forward the information onto Oriza L. Legrand.

If you don’t contact me, and if I fail to hear from you within the deadline, I will give your prize to the next person on the list.

SHIPPING:

Oriza L. Legrand will send the prizes directly to the winners. Given that they are located in Paris, it may take some time (up to 2 weeks, depending on your location and Customs processing) for you to receive your gift. It may take even longer if your country has really nightmarish customs issues or is at a greater distance from Paris.

Please be aware that neither Oriza L. Legrand nor I am responsible for items that are destroyed by customs or that are lost in transit for some reason.

Source:  raymichemin.canalblog.com

Source: raymichemin.canalblog.com

FINALLY:

I’d like to express my enormous gratitude to Mr. Hugo Lambert and Mr. Franck Belaiche of Oriza L. Legrand for their generosity, kindness and thoughtfulness in offering so many wonderful gifts. Some companies may give away a small sample, but travel sprays of such a large size and to FIFTEEN readers all around the world, without any restriction at all?!

I’m thrilled, primarily because it means that more people will get the chance to experience a really unique perfume house whose high-quality creations are done with elegance in a respectful nod to the past. My secret hope is that more of you will end up sharing my admiration and respect for the house, as well as for its gentlemanly owners who have put their heart and soul into bringing Oriza not only back to life, but also into the 21st century.

So, good luck to you all! May the perfumed winds take you to the heart of an enchanted forest, covered with muguet and violets, where the fairies dance the Rite of Spring. 

Source: allpolus.com

Source: allpolus.com

GENERAL MUGUET FLEURI & ORIZA DETAILS:
Cost & Availability: Muguet Fleuri is an eau de parfum with about 18% concentration that comes in a 100 ml bottle, and costs €90. Muguet Fleuri is available directly from Oriza’s e-store. A great sample set is also available from the e-Store (scroll down midway to the page and it is on the right.) The set includes 7 fragrances in the range, except for Foin Fraîchement Coupé, with each scent coming in 2 ml spray vials. The whole thing costs a low €9. Separate shipping is listed as €9, but a friend said he was charged only €7, so it may depend on your location. Oriza ships globally, as I’ve had readers order the sample set from all over.
In the U.S.: Luckyscent should begin carrying the entire Oriza L. Legrand line, including Muguet Fleuri (as well as the Oriza soaps and candles), starting next week. Currently, you can find Oriza at New York’s JuJu s’amuse. It has two locations, and I’ve provided the number for one, in case you want to check whether they do phone orders: 100 Thompson Street New York, NY 10012, with Ph: (212) 226.1201; but, also, 1220 Lexington Avenue (at 82nd Street), New York, NY 10018. I do not think they will have Muguet Fleuri at this point, since the perfume was released just last week in Paris.
Other vendors in Europe: Oriza’s perfumes are also sold at Paris’ Marie-Antoinette (which was my favorite perfume shop in Paris), as well as one store in Sweden. In the Netherlands, the Oriza line is carried at ParfuMaria. Germany’s First in Fragrance also carries the Oriza Legrand line, but Muguet Fleuri is not shown on their website at this time. Oriza L. Legrand is also sold at a few places in Japan. For details on those retailers and the Swedish store, you can check Oriza Points of Sale page.