When the rivers flow towards all possible directions and you don’t know where’s right and where’s left anymore; when every morning you walk into a soft fog and you observe yourself as it from aside; when you think and dream in another language, – everything becomes half real. Just another moment and you’ll wake up. Just another moment and all snowy mountain peaks will collapse and the blue sea will turn dark. Missing being there and missing here while there.
And then you don’t know your name anymore and you don’t know the people in your nightmares anymore and you don’t know who will tidy up the chaos in your head.
Puredistance Opardu, which sounds like the French I have lost, is just like another movie scene in the middle of fake reality. It brings the atmosphere of the last century with fabric wall tapestries, people with straight backs and women with a secret. Opardu is too beautiful to be true. It’s so rich yet extremely fragile, that you want to sit aside and admire it from a distance. Slowly.
Opardu opens with amazing lilac and white flowers. A whiff of freshness with a smooth and hardly noticeable candy note. Creamy gardenia, milky tuberose and not overwhelming yet consistent jasmine also carry a huge musky cloud. Indeed, during the first half an hour you can clearly perceive white soapiness which reminds me a lot of the great discontinued Sicily by Dolce&Gabbana. However, the scent doesn’t get banal and doesn’t only smell of clean linen. The flowers bring a lot of sensuality and a soft butter-like feeling. In fact, the perfume is so thick it seems you can almost touch it like a bath full of milk or like a handful of a luscious body butter to melt on your chest.
Opardu is calm and mature. It makes me think of serious people who seriously talk about outer space without getting their head spinning.
Opardu has an incredible quality and lasts for ages. The flowers in it never show their angles and no, they never remind of an air freshener. On warm skin they rather turn into a soft white fog. And then it lingers almost as if it was a reproach for the lost beauty or for you ceasing looking for it along with soft voice and decent manners.
It’s like a prayer to something you have lost or you would have liked to know. Or simply to something that never really existed.
It’s a nice habit to connect perfumes with cities. It makes you instantly remember the squares you’ve seen, the language people were speaking and the ice-cream you were eating on a bench every single time you smell that perfume. Undoubtedly, it’s quite an expensive tradition to buy a new perfume for every trip abroad. However, a similar result can be obtained by simply entering a random perfume store and trying a scent you don’t know yet. Even if you won’t buy it immediately, it will be enough to take you back to the holidays each time you’ll smell it by chance. I experienced the same feeling in Milan when I was a teenager and blindly bought Après l’Ondée; and every time I go to Rome I find it in Mona di Orio Tubéreuse.
Rome greets you with a unique smell you can find only there, no matter what season it is. I usually start my tour in Piazza di Spagna with horses waiting for curious tourists who want to take a carriage ride. The famous Spanish Steps are always covered by bright fuchsia flowers; the air is full of cold travertina and fountain water scents; you can easily catch a whiff of coffee in the mornings and a steam of roasted chestnuts in the evenings; you sniff freshly shaved and elegant men, high quality leather and ironed crispy shirts.
Mona di Orio Tubéreuse is probably the most wearable tuberose for those who are normally afraid of this extravagant flower. Usually it’s unbearably intoxicating and sometimes can even lead to a headache. That’s why few people choose tuberose for everyday use and often leave it only for special evening occasions or at least sniff it from the bottle never daring to spray it on themselves (because strong and excessive perfumes could and should be appreciated and loved even if you don’t use them as you’re supposed to).
Mona di Orio’s tuberose has become love at first sniff and it at once reminded me of something I can never figure out. Sugar and lemon? Lemon with sugar? Indeed, the top notes smell of citrus and something bitter, officially listed as bergamot and pink pepper. I can feel a slightly bitter and sour peel of a juicy lime, floating in a frozen Martini Bianco glass. The scent is fresh, crisp and green, but not too much. It seems as if there was some vegetable note, then I see an airy coconut. It soon starts to change and reveals marvelous benzoin and heliotrope, emphasizing the milkiness. Being beautifully milky and smooth, it doesn’t drown the green tuberose, which never gets intense and sweet, but rather remains raw and transparent. The scent is really more about the leaves of the tuberose and wet soil (though with no mushroomy patchouli!)
A graceful tuberose after rain, very lightweight and floating, yet never simple and bathroom-fresh. The base notes are creamy and musky, however Tubéreuse is quite a linear fragrance. Extremely lively and shimmering but intimate and caressing at the same time. Like Rome.
A wonderful unisex, which stunningly works on men and literally makes you go crazy no matter who you are. Unfortunately, it lasts just a few hours on skin, but then again – for a moment of euphoria you could forgive everything to The Eternal City.
Even if winter and especially Christmas call for heavier, sweeter and warming fragrances and even if many associate Magnolia Nobile with spring and sunny weather – this year this strange perfume came directly to the rainy and warm Christmas with noisy trains and coats almost wide open. Such a strange time, when you are supposed to feel the holiday mood yet there is something that presses the throat and you walk through the others like a stranger. Church bells call signaling the start of a mass, people kiss each other on the street and exchange pies with raisins. And you are so above everything that a little would be enough to break everything into peaces.
Acqua di Parma Magnolia Nobile is like that – lingering and half real. As if it exists, so white and beautiful yet at some point forgets the reality and goes away.
Magnolia Nobile promises a lot already from the first seconds on the skin. A blast of fresh citrus and bergamot with aromatic white flowers: magnolia, jasmine, tuberose right behind them. The scent is wide. Open. The notes bloom and expand and feel like a kind of light which fills the room, taking spirals of vetiver, rose and wood with it. The scent is sweet, but not too sweet. It is huge. Large. Tall. Growing and surrounding, embracing the air. The wonderful thing is that the fragrance does not lose its initial freshness and remains airy and pulsating even in the middle notes. Incredibly expressive, it is also restrained and mature. There is a feeling you are afraid to touch it for not to make it dirty. Fragile and feminine (not girly), sophisticated and grown, thoughtful and a little painful.
Magnolia Nobile is a scent to admire and to miss, just like one misses a lost lover. It is a beautiful perfume. So beautiful and royal it almost ceases to exist, or maybe has never existed. And you don’t know if start to cry or pretend nothing really happened.