Profumum Antico Caruso

Posted on April 26, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Profumum Roma wants you to take a trip in time with its Antico Caruso, starting in a simpler, more elegant era when barber shops were filled with creamy soaps, herbal tonics, and the aromas of rich lemon oil, and men were pampered the old-fashioned way. Yet, that journey to the past quickly changes because classic masculinity is not at the core of Antico Caruso. The heart of the perfume brings you to the modern era with a more unisex scent that is all about smooth, almond creaminess.

Source: Profumum Roma website.

Antico Caruso was released in 2001, and is an eau de parfum with pure parfum concentration. Like its sugary, feminine sister, Confetto, it is an almond fragrance at its core, but Antico Caruso does not start out that way. Far from it. In fact, for much of the first hour, I was wondering if the almond was ever going to show up. It certainly seemed nothing like Profumum’s description of the scent on its website with its talk of “wheat fields” and floral orange blossoms. In my opinion, Profumum’s description of the scent is so misleading, I’m going to skip quoting it entirely.

I think the best summation of Antico Caruso — at least for its opening phase — comes from Luckyscent which writes:

Inspired by the scent and atmosphere of a classic, old fashioned barbershop: white tiled floors and leather chairs; rich, creamy soaps and brisk herbal tonics; the buzz of good-natured conversation. A vibrant citrus note mingles with the subtle sweetness of almond on a warm base of wood. The result is clean, but in a comforting and luxurious way— not at all astringent or antiseptic. Antico Caruso brings to mind the good manners and relaxed pace of an earlier time, but has an ease and minimalism that keeps it wearable and modern.

Schorem, Bertus & Leen barbershop, Rotterdam, NL. Source: gentlemensavenue.com

There doesn’t seem to be any consensus on the notes in Antico Caruso, and I’ve found that Profumum rarely gives a thorough list, settling instead for a nutshell summation. As noted earlier, the company talks about wheat fields, but oddly enough, it doesn’t say one word about lemons — and Antico Caruso definitely contains plenty of that!

Thus far, the most detailed assessment seems to come from Fragrantica which mentions:

almond, lemon, orange blossom, sandalwood and amber.

Personally, I smell slightly different notes:

lemon, almond, lavender, sandalwood, vanilla, and possibly clary sage.

Source: footage.shutterstock.com

Antico Caruso opens on my skin very close to what is described by Luckyscent. There is a potent wave of clean, very crisp, very bright yellow citrus, infused with a clean musk, and followed by a pungent herbal aroma. The whole thing is cocooned in a dry woodiness, then a good, frothing spray of lemony shaving cream and some expensive soap bubbles are poured on top.

photo: 123rf.com

The herbal aspect fascinates me. There is a brief touch of green anise which carries with it the faintest tinge of licorice, along with what I would swear is clary sage and lavender. The latter is subtle at first, so I thought I was imagining it, but, no, exactly 5 minutes in, I would bet one of my favorite bottles of perfume that there is either dried lavender, clary sage, or both in Antico Caruso. Clary sage has a herbal aroma that can be similar to lavender, and commonly has a rich soapiness, along with a subtle touch of leatheriness underneath. All of that appears in Antico Caruso, along with the more obvious dried lavender. As for the wheat referred to by Profumum in their description? Nary a whiff. And no almonds on my skin, either, not for another 45 minutes.

Source: spasation.com

What there is instead is an intensely bright, fresh, crisp lemony aroma infused with soapiness, clean musk, and a slightly pungent, aromatic herbal bouquet in a blend that replicates an old-fashioned cologne. You can almost feel yourself transported to a 1940s or 1950s Italian barbershop, envision the shaving cream being whisked a man’s face, and see the bright sunshine flooding in as the barber finishes off with a bracing blend of lemon and lavender oil on his customer’s skin. Antico Caruso is definitely impressive in how smoothly and elegantly they’ve recreated that world in perfume form.

My admiration aside, it’s initially a little too herbal and clean for me personally, but relief is in sight. Exactly 20 minutes into Antico Caruso’s development, the perfume starts to shift. The heavily soapy undertone softens dramatically to something that is much better balanced. A touch of lovely, creamy vanilla slowly stirs in the base. Vanilla is not listed on Profumum’s typically abbreviated list of notes, but I would swear that is what I am smelling. At the same time, Antico Caruso’s streak of woodiness that was initially so muted now blooms, taking on a wonderful creamy smoothness. It doesn’t smell like sandalwood to me, let alone actual Mysore sandalwood, but it doesn’t smell cheap or synthetic, either. It’s an abstract wooded note, but it’s lovely.

The almond appears after 45 minutes, and Antico Caruso continues to get better. The almond isn’t bitter, raw, or candied, but very fresh and light. It cuts through some of the herbal pungency, taming it, while also softening the lemon and turning it less crisp. The final traces of shaving cream soapiness fade away, leaving a citrus, almond, herbal bouquet that is lightly flecked with vanilla and creamy woods. It all feels very smooth, elegant, clean, and bright. The white musk in the base is, as usual, the one thing I don’t like, but that is just as personal dislike for the note.

Photo: my own.

Antico Caruso still manifests masculine and retro vibes, thanks to its very aromatic, citrus top notes, but they are growing weaker with every passing quarter-hour. Exactly 75 minutes in, the almonds in Antico Caruso bloom and change everything for me. They’re absolutely beautiful. Creamy, whipped with vanilla to a silky mousse, then lightly dusted with a touch of sugar, they are like a creamy dessert. Again, vanilla is not listed in Antico Caruso’s notes, but what is wafting from my skin certainly seems to contain the note. It’s lovely in its airy, rich smoothness. Yet, the herbal and citrus cologne aspect persists enough to ensure that Antico Caruso is never cloying goo. There is sweetness, most definitely, but there is also a very brisk, herbal, aromatic freshness that ensures Antico Caruso never ventures into saccharine territory.

Photo: Kate Donahue on foodbabbles.com

Antico Caruso’s primary bouquet now is of silky almonds with vanilla mousse, flecked by bright, crisp lemons and dried herbs, all atop a smooth, creamy woody base. At the 2.25 hour mark, the sillage drops to an inch above the skin, the herbal accord retreats to the sidelines, and the almond-vanilla-mousse dances in the spotlight with the creamy woods. The lavender and lemon are still there, as is the white musk, but none of them are the stars of show in the same way that they were at the start.

Source: Normann Copenhagen. (Link to blog site with recipe for mousse embedded within photo.)

Antico Caruso remains largely unchanged for the next few hours, losing more and more of its herbal cleanness and citric freshness. As the hours pass, and the drydown begins, Antico Caruso’s primary bouquet is of creamy almonds amidst even further creaminess, both of the vanilla and wooded varieties. It’s absolutely lovely, and compulsively sniffable. In its final moments, Antico Caruso dies away in a blur of lightly sweetened creaminess flecked by almonds and that persistent, clean, white musk.

All in all, Antico Caruso lasted just under 12.5 hours on my perfume-consuming skin. That figure is a bit less than what I usually get from some Profumum scents, but I know Antico Caruso’s longevity could easily be increased by applying more of the scent. On a normal person, many Profumum scents last well over 15 hours, with some reporting 24 hours or more. In terms of sillage, Antico Caruso become a skin scent on me around the middle of the 6th hour, but was still easy to detect up close for some time after that.

Jean Paul Gaultier’s Le Male. Source: Fragrantica.

Just as with Confetto, the reactions to Antico Caruso can be boiled down to a few, strikingly similar assessments. On Luckyscent, Fragrantica, or MakeupAlley, the comments generally boil to one or more of the following refrains:

Antico Caruso is exactly like Jean-Paul Gaultier‘s Le Male;

Antico Caruso is extremely similar to Le Male, but without the latter’s cloying, “screeching,” and overpoweringly synthetic vanilla;

Antico Caruso has a barber shop smell with herbal notes and shaving foam;

Antico Caruso smells like the most luxurious almond soap with a clean, smooth, creaminess and lovely sandalwood;

“The smell for the perfect, classy gentlemen…” (Also, “Soft, classy attractive from the first sniff.That’s how a man should smell in my opinion. It’s oh so pure and sexy at the same time. Freshness, clean clothes with good old sandalwood soap dried in the sunny countryside.”)

Antico Caruso is too masculine for women. (E.g., “I gave it 3 for me, but I also would give it 5 for a man” ; or, “May be more appropriate for my boyfriend.”)

The citrus and barbershop tonalities are much more noticeable if you spray from a bottle, than if you dab, unless you dab on a lot.

Source: mlle-mlle.blogspot.com

I was happy to see that one Fragrantica reviewer detected a lavender aroma just as I did. “Houdini4” also provides comparisons to fragrances other than just Le Male, so his assessment may be useful for some of you:

Instantly I thought this smelled like a lavender, almond and vanilla combination which is very pleasing. How about this Antico Caruso is an elegant blend of the best bits of from three well known fragrances. A ménage a trois of sorts between Le Male, Givenchy Pi and Amouage Reflection.[…] It’s what Le Male should smell like but goes awful on my skin and it has the deep almond accord of givenchy Pi without the sour edge. Finally it has the class and sophistication of Reflection without the relative complexity. This is a nice fragrance that has phenomenal lasting power it really is impressive. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

MOR vanilla almond soap. Photo: Kim at averysweetblog.com. (Website link embedded within photo.)

On Luckyscent, the vast majority of the reviews are positive, but they also come from men. My two favorite ones are filled with evocative historical images for what Antico Caruso makes the reviewers feel. What is interesting is that one of them detected the almond immediately, far more than anything herbal, and that Antico Caruso’s main characteristic for him seemed to be luxury almond soap that conjured up something serene and comforting, like “fresh, wholesome days outdoors and the pure simplicity of monestary, abbey or temple settings”:

Oh ! yeah. This is somewhat of a medicine chest upon first whiff/application but then it really gets complex, rich , masculine and has an elusive comforting nature. It has a great life span- at least 5 to 10 hours, it takes about an hour just to sit with you and develop – very good sign IMO. It’s got a good description , shaving cream mixed with a very oppulent antique wardrobe filled with hair creme, woody rich soaps, leather shoes of the most bespoke calfskin , a linen suit you wore to a temple in India where the finest sandalwood burned – maybe even a tiny bit of extremely rare aged English pipe tabacco. It’s just too complex to type- but delivers alot of invoked feelings and vaugue memories- the aroma captures places and times for me, not just a pleasure of smell alone. Never been able to say that for any offering,except for CdG Incense/Avignon before this.

Source: theesotericcuriosa.blogspot.com

“Antico Caruso” smells like the purest, creamiest luxury soap you’ve ever experienced—the kind that came in cakes and wrapped in paper, scattered throughout cruise liners (like creamy-tart “Vinolia”–only sweeter) and seaside hotels in the early part of last century. There is even a similar theme between Caswell-Massey’s famous “Almond Shave Soap” and “Antico Caruso”, but antico is less salty and veers away from the syrupy cherry tone of almond and into a creamier realm of polished wood and hard-soap lather. This is a serenely comforting scent: The almond note gives it a very subtle gourmandesque spirit; however, the opening citrus zing and powdery sandlewood finish make it far to clean to pass as a food substitute. “Antico Caruso” is also, despite masculine references to barbershops and cologne, quite unisex in nature and I imagine many women would find it’s unusual non-floral creaminess appealing. It’s the smell of “clean” before “clean” meant “disinfectant/detergent”. It makes me think of fresh, wholesome days outdoors and the pure simplicity of monestary, abbey or temple settings. If you always hoped for a sweeter, creamier version of “CKOne“, “L’Huere Bleu” or you’re just looking for an interesting scent to surround but not precede you, I’d suggest “Antico Caruso”. [Emphasis to names added by me.]

Lemon almond soap. Source: blog.wholesalesuppliesplus.com

As you may have noted, most of the Antico Caruso discussion is from men. My personal feelings on the gender issue is that Antico Caruso definitely opens like a man’s cologne with its herbal-citrus aroma and shaving cream undertones. I think women who are used to mainstream fragrances, and/or who prefer clearly, distinctly feminine perfumes will struggle with Antico Caruso. I’m not sure many will have the patience to wait 75 minutes to get past the opening in order to experience the unisex almond-vanilla heart.

On the other hand, I think that all the references to “barbershop” vibes may predispose some women to think that the fragrance is not for them. After all, a lot of women wear perfumes with lavender, citrus and clean soap aromas, so why should Antico Caruso’s opening be too much? How you frame the discussion and categorize the notes may impact your reaction. If you’re the sort who doesn’t find dried lavender to be medicinal or masculine in nature, then you shouldn’t have a problem with the rest of the perfume.

Almond Powder. Photo: Emma Christensen. Source: thekitchn.com

To be clear, though, quite a few women find Antico Caruso to be “lovely and unisex,” relaxing, “cuddly” or “precious.” On MakeupAlley, some female reviewers love the scent, perhaps because the drydown is so very different than the citrus, soapy opening:

With notes of citrus, almond and sandalwood, the Luckyscent website describes it being reminiscent of rich, creamy soaps and brisk herbal tonics. At first, I thought this scent didn’t work on me…. It seemed kind of soapy perfumey and could work on a man better than a woman…but the drydown is a soft almond baby powder scent….not a sneeze inducing powdery scent but like baby powder and sweet dry almond…and it has no masculine edge left. Also, the staying power on this is tremendous which is rare for a cuddly scent (which this certainly is once you get to the bottom notes).

how relaxed and istantly happy i felt after putting on my skin after bath the other day.I was so distressed and tired and it worked like some magical potion. It smells a bit of cherry (well that comes from almond) and it’s sweet tarty with a subtle vanilla note and a true sandalwood drydown.Precious!

I wasn’t getting the barbershop notes at all, but putting on a ton, I can get that sense. There’s a old fashioned perfume feeling to this in quantity, but overall it dries to a gentle, slightly powdery vanilla musk that’s compulsively sniffable. The wood, old style cologne and herbal tonic are there in suggestion, but it’s all muted into a mood rather than distinct pictures. Lovely and unisex, warm and comforting. Expensive though. Makes me sad because I would love to own this but it’s just too expensive.

It’s true, Profumum scents are not cheap at $240 a bottle. On the one hand, they are 100 ml of pure concentrated parfum, and a little goes a long (long!) way. On the other, Antico Caruso is not particularly original. Just as with Confetto, it has a very close counterpart in the designer or mainstream aisle for much, much less. And they’re both much less original or distinctive than some of their non-gourmand siblings in the Profumum line — like the peaty Laphroaig Scotch and smoky vetiver Fumidus, or the kelp and salty ocean Acqua di Sale.

The thing about Profumum, however, is that they generally use very high-quality ingredients and few synthetics. So, yes, Antico Caruso may be like Le Male, but almost everyone agrees that it is not even close to being as synthetic or as shrilly over-bearing as the Gaultier creation. Whether it feels different or luxurious enough to warrant the price is going to be a personal determination. I personally happen to think Antico Caruso is very elegant, and I struggle to see how Profumum’s quality could possibly be compared or equated to Le Male.

Almond cream. Photo: Melissa Breyer at care2care.com

For me, Antico Caruso is one of the nicest Profumum scents that I’ve tried in a while, and I have to admit that I far preferred it to its almond sister, Confetto. Though I enjoyed both almond scents, Antico Caruso comes out ahead for a few reasons. Confetto was a little too sweet for my personal tastes. Antico Caruso felt not only more complex, relatively speaking, but I also found the drydown to be beautiful and compulsively sniffable. Yes, the opening was a little too herbal for me and I don’t particularly like soapiness, but neither aspect lasted all that long on my skin. The main thing, though, is that almond-vanilla mousse over a base of creamy woods will always beat out sugared almond with cotton candy for me. The vanilla is simply better, richer, deeper, smoother and more high-quality in Antico Caruso.

Do I like Antico Caruso enough to actually buy a full 100ml bottle? That part I’m not so sure about. I suspect some of you will find yourself engaged in a similar debate if you try either Confetto or Antico Caruso. But if you love sweet almond fragrances, you should really give one of them a test sniff.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Antico Caruso is an Eau de Parfums with Extrait concentration that only comes in a large 3.4 oz/100 ml bottle. It costs $240 or €179. Profumum doesn’t have an e-shop from which you can buy their fragrances directly. Profumum now seems to have released 20 ml “stylos” of 10 of its fragrances, including Antico Caruso, but those 20 ml each cost €60. The stylos are also limited to Europe thus far, in such department stores as Paris’ Printemps boutique. In the U.S.: you can find Antico Caruso at Luckyscent and OsswaldNY. 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, zurich’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 does not have Antico Caruso. However, you can order vials of both scents 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.

Profumum Confetto

Posted on April 25, 2014 by Kafkaesque

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.

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.)

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

La Via del Profumo Sharif: The Bedouin Desert

Posted on January 17, 2014 by Kafkaesque

Source: Friendfeed.com

Leather, civet, dry woods, almonds and amber in a scented creation meant to represent the “noble man” of Arabia. It is a list that made me sit up when I saw it, and not only because I’ve seen Lawrence of Arabia a few times too many. It all sounded very Lutensesque, but the fragrance comes from Dominique Dubrana, the French Sufi mystic and poetic perfumer who goes by the name, “Abdes Salaam Attar.”

Photo: Profumo.

Sharif is a 2011 all-natural eau de parfum from Mr. Dubrana’s Italian perfume house, La Via del Profumo. Sharif is one of his “Arabian Series” of fragrances, and is meant to be embody the “fierce people of the desert.” As Abdes Salaam Attar explains on his Profumo website, the name “Sharif” means “noble man” in Arabic and is a description of character, not of lineage or descent:

Nobility, for the fierce people of the desert, is a quality of the soul. […] Sharif is the fragrance of a noble sheikh of Arabia who has chosen supreme elegance over flamboyance, gentleness over arrogance and seduction over haughtiness.

In the pure middle Eastern tradition Sharif blends intense leathery notes with aromatic woods and the delicious oriental aroma of amber, sweet and almondy.

The scent of Civet, far in the background, confers to the fragrance a sensual touch of desert wilderness, like the sillage left by a caravan of camels crossing the Bedouin lands at the sunset.

Source: amyglaze.com

The following seems to be the succinct list of notes:

Almonds, aromatic woods, leather, civet, amber.

Sharif opens on my skin with intense, bitter almonds, followed by a darkened leather infused by smoke and dry sweetness. It’s a fantastic, wholly original combination, one that Serge Lutens would probably have loved to invent. The bitterness of the almonds feels concentrated and raw, but the brilliant touch is that their whiteness is lightly infused with blackness. The smoke is tinged with a tarry, almost licorice-like chewiness. None of it is remotely gourmand; there are no impressions of marzipan, or French confectionary pastries here at all.

Source: reinsofthenight.com

The leather is a very subtle undercurrent, but I’m fascinated by it. It’s not birch-tar leather; there are no fecal or horsey qualities, and it’s far from rubbery or raw. Yet, it’s not wholly refined, either. It doesn’t feel like aged, burnished, oiled leather. The tiniest touch of civet gives it a rough-hewn, musky feel. Honestly, I keep imagining the saddle-bags that you would see on horses in Middle Eastern or cowboy movies of old. I myself never rode with them, but I’ve seen and touched that rough leather, and it is what comes to mind here. Perhaps the most accurate way to describe the note here is that it often feels like an impression of dark, smoky leather, more than the actual thing.

Source: pathauldren.com and YouTube.

Something about the scent consistently makes me think about the desert, and it’s not due solely to the Profumo description. No, there is definitely grainy, warm, sandy textural quality to the scent that is really hard to explain. It makes me imagine a Bedouin tent in North Africa with raw almond treats inside, the golden dryness of sand all about, and the faintest touch of leather from the horses outside. The sandy quality underlying the notes calls to mind Pierre Guillaume‘s descriptions of Parfumerie Generale‘s Djhenné, a fragrance meant to evoke the African desert, as well as the warm, Northern, cool, woody sands that Serge Lutens used to describe Fille en Aiguilles. Sharif couldn’t be further from those two fragrances if it tried, but this is the one perfume out of the lot that successfully manages to convey a dry, woody, golden, sandy texture.

Civet. Source: focusingonwildlife.com

The almonds grow stronger and stronger, and their bitterness dominates Sharif, but something else starts to rise to the surface. It’s the civet which Mr. Dubrana implies that it is the real stuff with a “non vegan” label on Sharif’s page. Some of you may know that genuine civet is no longer used in modern perfumery. The synthetic type of musk that you may encounter is often quite animalic, if not urinous and aggressively feral as well. Sharif’s civet is not. It is a surprisingly well-rounded, rich, and deep, adding a modulated, carefully calibrated level of muskiness that is never perianal on my skin. In one test, it was virtually nonexistent for the first 40 minutes; in another, it was noticeable from the start, adding a subtle sharpness and depth to that abstract, smoked leather accord.

15 minutes in, Sharif slowly shifts. There is a floral herbaceousness deep in the base that I can’t pinpoint. Clary sage? It lacks the latter’s lavender or soapy qualities, but there is a distinct herbal, leathered element that is fragrant, aromatic, a touch floral, and a bit green. A more important change is that the almond note which dominates Sharif starts to soften. If you’re not an almond fan, I imagine that you’d find this version of the note to be “nose-searing” as one person described it. Yet, it does start to smooth itself out. It is still infused with incense-like smokiness and dry woods, still has a gravelly, pebble-y quality, but it is less forceful.

Source: Micks Images. (Website link embedded within.)

From afar, Sharif’s main bouquet after 30 minutes is of bitter almonds that are thoroughly infused with a dark, abstractly leathered smokiness, followed by dry sweetness and musk. The perfume remains the same for the next few hours; the only real change is in the fluctuating strength of the notes and in the sillage. Sharif becomes a skin scent at the end of the 2nd hour, the civet becomes much more noticeable on me about 3.5 hours in, and the bitter almond finally starts to weaken as the primary note around the end of the 4th hour.

Once it finally pipes down, the leathery base becomes much more noticeable and, to a lesser extent, the civet as well. At the top of the 5th hour, the abstract, incense-y “leathery” darkness vies with the almonds for center stage. The whole thing is extremely muted and blended seamlessly on my skin, so it takes some hard sniffing to single out the specific layers. The incense-like note, the sandy dryness, and the leather gradually fade away entirely. In its final moments, Sharif is nothing but creamy sweetness, vaguely reminiscent of fresh almonds. All in all, Sharif lasted 9.75 hours on my skin, with extremely soft sillage after the second hour.

I tested Sharif twice, including once with the fragrance on both my arms, and it was largely the same thing each time. On my right, non-testing arm, the almonds in Sharif were significantly smokier, darker, and more leathered — not only from the start, but throughout the perfume’s lifespan. The civet was strong in the opening minutes too, making Sharif a much dirtier, darker, animalic scent. The dry, grainy sandiness was also more noticeable. As time passed, the Sharif turned more into a leathered almond scent on that arm, while the dark accords were more muted and muffled on my main, (left) testing arm. However, all these differences were tiny, fractional ones of degree, not of kind; the scent was identical in its core essence in both cases. Instead of Lawrence of Arabia, you have leathered-incense Almonds of Arabia.

A Bedouin tent. Source: gypsyriver.com.au

The desert is also what came to mind when The Non-Blonde (and her husband) tested Sharif. They experienced primarily a civet-woody-leather fragrance, though the Non-Blonde’s ingredients list does put almonds at the top. Her review reads, in part:

Sharif, a 2011 release, is an incredibly complex wood/animalic fragrance. The aromatic opening is a bit deceiving– you almost think that you’re getting an old school balsamic camphoric men’s cologne when it captures you and pulls you into its world: leather, amber, and the unmistakable touch of civet. Sharif, like other La Via del Profumo fragrances aims to take you away from the world of perfume as you know it. This time the journey is to an imaginary desert. The landscape is stark and the sandstorm blurs reality. There are tall figures approaching, their silhouettes appear in the dusty air. Are they friends or foes? There’s a smell of danger in the air.

Sharif’s desert scene is stark and only marginally sweet. It’s as far from what we call an “oriental” perfume as the artwork above is different from the opulence and decadence of Orientalist art. […][¶] I do think that it’s quite gender neutral and women who find the notes and ideas expressed in this fragrance should give it a try (must love civet). The sillage of Sharif is polite, but it’s incredibly long-lasting on mys skin as well as on the husband (10 hours easily); it also clings to fabric until after a second washing. Sharif is an all-natural perfume, meaning no synthetic ingredients, but it’s decidedly not vegan. The civet you smell here is the real thing, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know where and how AbdesSalaam Attar acquired it.

For Kevin at Now Smell This, the civet dominated to such an extent that he had to wear the fragrance outside of the house to test it, lest his “infuriated” cat attack him in an attempt “to obliterate Sharif from his environment.” I find that hysterically funny, but the non-feline parts of Kevin’s review focuses on the tarry nuttiness that he too experienced in a significant way:

Sharif smells wonderful. It starts off with a nose-searing note that smells like tonka beans in turpentine (with a nutty background aroma, almost dessert-like, but not too sweet). A beautiful, almost smoky, leather scent appears next, blending well with tonka and spice (a clear, pungent cinnamon-clove note). Sharif remains in tonka-leather-cinnamon territory for a long time before turning a tad powdery with musky (civet) amber in the dry-down. There is a hint of smooth “incense ash” in the base notes also. The entire composition is fine-tuned and high-quality (what a relief it is to smell Sharif after sampling too many cheap perfumes from other houses recently).

Now, to my “relationship” with Sharif. First, its arrival on a chilly day was auspicious; this is a cool-weather perfume. Though it is not overpowering and dense, it has more tenacity than you’d expect from a natural perfume (it lasts at least six hours on my skin, with minimal sillage).

For Grain de Musc and Octavian Coifan of 1000 Fragrances, Sharif’s main qualities were a honeyed almond, saffron-tinged spiciness, and civet leather. Grain de Musc writes:

… [L]ike a noble character, [Sharif] doesn’t let itself be approached or tamed easily: you’ve got to go through the fire of its camphoraceous top notes before feeling its softness. It is almost surprising to find Sharif so liquid in its bottle, because its smell conjures the fatty, tactile, ductile quality of a paste. It feels like something you could lick or chew: a smooth, resinous preparation similar to majoun, a type of cannabis jam where the resin is blended with honey and almond. There’s no cannabis note in Sharif, but it does have honey and almond notes, saffron providing a medicinal note and a leather effect. Though the latter is the core of the scent, it is also, to my nose, an expansion of the properties of civet. Old civet tinctures do display the smoothly dark honeyed facets of Sharif.

Desert Caravan. Photo: “Artemis.” Via Tripwiremagazine.com

Octavian Coifan‘s review also has a detailed elaboration of the notes, ranging from camels representing leathered Peau d’Espagne to the “precious ambery-balsamic” foundation that he thinks Sharif shares with Profumo’s Mecca Balsam. He writes, in part:

A small saffron-like note is the golden sprinkle above the peppery spiciness transforming the majestic combination of the 4 ancient spices into the golden precious “honey”, deep, highly aromatic with herbal undertones and melting on the skin. The almond-vanilla quality of the drydown, with subtle animalic notes suggesting the leather-skin facet of Musk Tonkin and the herbal-silex dimension of Hyraceum, transforms the darkness found in Balsamo Della Mecca into something serene and elegant. It evokes the ancient opopanax perfumes, different from modern opopanax resin. The sweetness is crystallized not in “sugar”, as in a Tonka bean, but in camphor, like the combination between laurel leaf/cinnamon leaf/clove and a balsamic base.

The perfume evokes the rich quality of dry tobacco preserved in an ancient leather pouch, blended with unknown powerful herbs and pepper. Its evolution on the skin is surprising and with Balsamo Della Mecca, Sharif is one of the most elegant natural perfumes. […] The creations from Abdes Salaam Attar are based on the true essence of an antique craft. They are the most profound and refined expression of that lost world. [Emphasis in the original.]

I’m afraid I didn’t experience anything quite as interesting, complex, or spiced. My version was fractionally closer to that described by one Basenotes commentator in Sharif’s entry on the site:

This is a sexy fragrance that I would love to smell on a man. It is the aroma of scented tobacco and suede, of being held by a man who smells manly. Yet, it is a beautiful scent on a woman, too. On me, it opens with a hint of smoke and leather, like an outdoor fragrance. Right away, a cherry-almond sweetness comes forward, inviting me inside where it is warm, and sweets are being served to guests. This one glows like a fire and simmers nicely on the skin. A must-try.

Source: gypsyriver.com.au

The two other reviews on Basenotes are equally positive, talking about how Sharif is an easier, more accessible version of Mecca Balsam. The description by one chap, “A Good Life,” is very evocative:

In the pure tradition of the Middle East, Sharif consists of intense notes of leather and aromatic woods with the delicious aroma of amber scents of the East, and sweet almond,” the perfumer tells us. It is, first of all, a wonderfully pleasant perfume and an ideal entry into the world of natural perfumery, as it is much more accessible than the starkly meditative, distantly elegant Mecca Balsam. The latter requires study before you can deeply appreciate it, while Sharif provides pure pleasure even before you begin investigating its complexity. There is a perfect harmony of spice and sweetness, dryness and deftness, of clarity and density, the slender elegance of a minarett and the opulence of a plate of Arabian sweets. The dry craggy resins of Mecca Balsam’s pilgrimage are here enveloped in smooth delicious amber. Imagine yourself being entertained in the golden tent of an Arab nobleman, the scent of fine resins rising from incense burners, eating honey and almond cakes while a pipe rests by your side and a distant smell of leather saddle and noble horses wafts over from the stables. You are at peace, but you feel energy brimming inside you. New deeds of your own choosing await, but for now, you enjoy the tranquil flow of life and its pleasures.

I don’t see any similarities to Mecca Balsam at all, but then my skin rendered that one very anomalous indeed. Regardless, I join him in being transported me to a Bedouin tent filled with almond treats and smoky darkness. I was happy to see that he too envisioned “the distant smell of leather saddle,” even if he wasn’t talking about small saddle bags. I hadn’t read any of these reviews when I was testing the perfume and writing my notes, so I’m glad it’s not just my imagination.

Bedouin Oasis Ras Al Khaimah. Source: ras-al-khaimah.eu

Unfortunately, what appeared on my skin simply wasn’t as interesting as what everyone else experienced. The almonds dominated to an enormous degree, and far overshadowed both the smoky darkness and the leather. The latter was also an impression more than the smell of actual leather. The civet was a rich, warm, very smooth touch that I enjoyed, but I wish all the notes would have replaced the almonds as the perfume’s central characteristic. I particularly wanted more leather!

Clearly, skin chemistry makes a difference, and enough people got a hardcore civet, leather, woody, ambered scent for it to be worth your while to test Sharif if you’re interested in those notes. I think it is definitely unisex in nature, but, given two of the accounts quoted here, it may be wisest if you like civet musk. (And almonds!) As for the sillage, Mr. Dubrana told me that “you should use the perfumes on your clothes and hair in order to enjoy them fully and longer.” He also perfumes his beard with them as well.

Even if the vagaries of skin means that Sharif doesn’t work for me personally, I think it’s a fascinating, very different, original take on both leather and orientals. If you love almonds or leather, you should give it a sniff.

Disclosure: My sample was courtesy of AbdesSalaam Attar. That did not impact this review. I do not do paid reviews, my views are my own, and my first obligation is honesty to my readers.

DETAILS:

Cost & Availability: Sharif is an eau de parfum that comes in a variety of sizes. It is available exclusively from the Profumo.it website, which ships its scents world-wide. All the following prices for Sharif are in Euros without VAT: €44,63 for 15.5 ml, €97,20 for 32 ml (a little over 1 oz), and €143,81 for 50 ml/1.7 oz. At today’s rate of exchange, the USD prices roughly comes to: $60 for the 15.5 ml, $132 for the 32 ml, and $195 for the 50 ml bottle. The site says: “Prices are without VAT and are valid for USA and all non EEC countries[;] for shipments in the EEC 22% VAT will be ADDED to the amount in the shopping cart.” There is also a Mignon Discovery Coffret which is available for any 5 fragrances, each in a glass 5.5 ml bottle. The price depends on which perfumes you pick, as the choice is up to you. The 5.5 ml bottle of Sharif is €17,70. On a side note, I received my samples from Mr. Dubrana incredibly quickly, less than 4 days after he sent it. Additionally, I have the impression that Profumo provides free 2 ml samples with all purchases, especially of any new fragrances that he is developing, since Abdes Salaam is very interested in feedback. In short, if you’re ordering fragrance, you may want to ask for a sample of something that strikes your eye. Samples: you can order a sample of Sharif from Surrender to Chance which sells the perfume starting at $10.99 for a 1 ml vial. It would seem more cost-effective to order the 5.5 ml mini from Profumo itself.