Fête Accompli: Hilde Soliani Conaffetto

By Marina Falling in love with one orange blossom scent was surprising, falling for another one is really pushing it for me. Add to that a renewed interest in jasmine and a sudden craving for roses...Body rebelling against winter, refusing to seek comfort in the usual warm-resinous cold -weather comfort scents and instead trying to find it in an escape to ever-blossoming, ever-summery nevernever lands? Conaffetto is certainly escapist. It might not carry you to a faraway exotic paradise. It would take you as far as down your memory lane or down the path of your imagination, to "that place between sleep and awake where you still remember dreaming", where images of real, imagined, read-about-in-books, seen-in-movies childhood excitement and happiness dwell. Conaffetto is a smell of a Fête, which you maybe experienced or maybe only hoped to experience, a perfect celebration or an ideal carnival, where everyone is happy, clowns are not creepy, each throw of a dart wins you a stuffed animal, cotton candy never melts and the air is fragrant with trees in bloom. (As an aside, fragrance has been inspired by a wedding, and it certainly fits that inspiration just as well, just replace clowns with uncles.) After smelling first of sugar, plain and simple, then of bitter-sweet almonds, then of sugared almonds...a startlingly true-to-life replication of those candies ubiquitous to certain events, which, at real life celebrations, look better than they taste, much like most wedding and birthday cakes (but not at this Fête!), Conaffetto transforms into an orange blossom dominated composition. I probably wouldn't recommend this to someone seeking an almond scent, the realistic almondy feel is too short-lived for that, but certainly would to someone looking for an interesting take on fleur d'oranger. Funny as it might sound, even sugar doesn't make the blend smell overly sweet, and orange blossom puts a stop to any potential veering towards sweetness by being tangy, fresh and verdant. What intrigues me in this perfume the most is an unexpectedly raw, dare I say almost earthy feel...Does anyone remember Sloth by S-Perfume? The sadly discontinued Wasser's creation had a unique undertone, which I called "boiled courgettes"...I could also call it "boiled potato skins"...As it was the case with Sloth, this raw aspect brings a tinge of melancholy to the otherwise joyful Conaffetto. Nothing too existentially heavy here though, this is the melancholy of realization that it's late, and the Carnival is closing for tonight...but you know that tomorrow is another day and the Fête will go on. I believe that Conaffetto will be available later this year, probably from the usual Soliani stockists like Luckyscent and New London Pharmacy. Image, Ocean Club Sea Carnival by Sally Caldwell Fisher.

A Severe Consonant Shortage: Hilde Soliani Doolciiisssimo and Fraaagola Saalaaata

By Donna Right off the bat I have to say this: I have never smelled a perfume that smells like both muscle liniment and root beer simultaneously. As a matter of fact I don’t think those two aromas have ever been in my nose at the same time in my entire life, but here they are, in the form of Hilde Soliani’s Doolciiisssimo. Having read Marina’s enthusiastic reviews of some of the other scents in the line, I was keeping an eye out for some of them, and two unfamiliar ones from this tiny Italian niche brand surfaced in a mixed sample lot I found online. I decided not to try to find out more about them until I had tested them, since I was amused and intrigued by their odd names and I like to try out oddball perfumes with as few preconceptions as possible. With a name that seems to allude to sweetness, I was expecting perhaps some caramel or praline for Doolciiisssimo. The initial blast of something peppery-warm told me right away that this was no ordinary sweet or gourmand perfume. It turned to frothy, foamy old-fashioned root beer in a few moments, and then something weird happened (like root beer perfume is not weird enough) and a medicinal note crept in. About ten minutes in it was very sharp and I almost decided to wash it off it was so penetrating, but I decided to wait it out. After about twenty minutes the components evened out enough to reach a stasis of sorts on my skin. On the one hand there is the smooth, creamy, comforting smell of that “root beer” and on the other there is that background odor of something that you might rub on sore muscles. It’s fascinating in a way, but I am not sure it works as perfume. Has anyone else tried this, and did you get the same thing? Anyway, I looked up the notes after I tested it, and yes there is vanilla, but cherry tobacco and patchouli are the culprits in the liniment accord – it’s like cherry cough medicine, with the patchouli turning it into something camphorous like a chest rub. Maybe it would smell a lot better on someone else, but on me it’s like a trip down the first aid aisle of the drugstore. Okay, so what about the other one? What’s in Fraaagola Saalaaata besides all the vowels in a Scrabble® game? One whiff and this one was no mystery at all – it was strawberry and nothing but, fresh and sweet. Strawberry is a very frequently misused note in perfume, usually showing up in achingly sugary celebrity scents and entwined with lots of other syrupy fruits and plasticky florals. Here it shines by itself and it reminds me very much like a perfume I used to wear when I was much younger, a long-gone but lovely Fragonard strawberry perfume intended as a first fragrance for young girls. I was already well beyond the target age when I discovered it, but I wore it anyway, enjoying the simple charm of a scent that captured the essence of one of my favorite aromas, ripe wild strawberries. The listed notes of this perfume are simply strawberries and salt. I don’t get anything salty at all from this, as it is really sweet on my skin; nothing briny or even sea-breezy is detectable. I would actually wear this, because there are few things I like more than strawberries in any form. Never mind the loopy name and the girly theme, I am a fan. The Hilde Soliani perfumes can be found at Luckyscent. Image credit: Wild Strawberries from Boby Dimitrov’s Flickr photo stream, some rights reserved.

Hilde Soliani Il Vs Iris: Perfume Review

Il Vs Iris, the "I" in Soliani's TI AMO collection of floral fragrances (read the review of Tulipano, the "T", here) sneaked up on me with its quiet, understated, childish or better to say, kittenish charm. Although, I do smell iris in the very beginning, I would not recommend die-hard iris fans to look to Soliani's rendition for a fix. After the iris-like rooty floralcy goes away, and it goes away fast, one is left with very appealing woody greenness, evocative of a smell of freshly snapped young twig. For a little while, there is something delicately peppery in this verdancy. This part of the composition reminds me vaguely both of the piquant freshness of Navegar and of green spiciness of Piment Brulant, although Il Vs Iris is much, much softer than either of the two. Gradually, the scent acquires a distinctly almondy undertone. At first I was puzzled by the origin of this subtly sweet nuttiness. The almond wasn't thick and saccharine enough to suggest an overdose of heliotrope. The note had pastel transparency...Then I read that the blend includes mimosa and it all made sense: there IS something almondy in the mimosa/acacia aroma, and the almondy quality feels lighter, fresher, airier than in the smell of heliotrope. Imagine mixing Mimosa Pour Moi with Jour de Fete, only make both significantly less sweet. Add to that the pepper of Navegar and Pimont Brulant...And although I make Il Vs Iris sound like a pastiche of L'Artisan creations, it is not. With its initial earthiness and a distinct touch of spice, Il V Iris has something...I wouldn't dare say, animalic...but certain purring, feline grace. At the same time, its delicacy, its unripe greenness, its soft almondy undertone make it seem child-like. Like a heroine of a well-known song, it has a "gentle hand". Available at New London Pharmacy, $75.00 for 50ml.

Hilde Soliani Mangiamo Dopo Teatro: Perfume Review...and a Prize Draw

It seems to me, upon reading reviews, comments and forums, than melon and watermelon notes are not particularly popular among perfume connoisseurs, and their presence in a scent is more often than not a turn off. Correct me if my impression is wrong. Personally I have a weakness for all things melon in perfume. Perhaps because what I consider to be my formative years were spent wearing fairly melony Marina de Bourbon. Having said that I like melon in perfume, I must specify that a melon has to be ripe and sweet and a perfume non-aquatic. Just like Mangiamo Dopo Teatro. Inspired by Hilde Soliani's memories of eating out with her friends and colleagues after theatrical performances, it is most definitely delicious. It is honeyed melon and pretty much nothing else, but boy oh boy is it enjoyable. Wearing it makes me want to cut a melon (ambrosia, canary, honeydew, cantaloupe...I don't care, any will do!) in half and bite into its flesh, without minding my manners and appearance, to let the juices run and make my face all sticky. The scent arouses in me the kind of craving and the kind of greed that is borderline obscene. As any melon fragrance, it does have a certain fresh quality, just like the smell of actual melons combines syrupy sweetness with wateriness. Having said that, Mangiamo Dopo Teatro is not the dreaded aquatic at all. So if you are aquatic-phobic, have no fear. But if you are afraid of melons in perfume, stay far away and leave more for me. Available at New London Pharmacy and Luckyscent. If you would like to be in a prize draw please say so in your comment. One lucky commenter will receive samples of Bell'Antonio, Il Tuo Tulipano, Mangiamo Dopo Teatro, Sipario, Stecca and Vecchi Rossetti. The winner will be announced next Monday. Image source, corbis.

Hilde Soliani Il Tuo Tulipano: Perfume Review

Once I began to discover Hilde Soliani's fragrances, I was addicted. From the husky sexy-comforting stunner Bell'Antonio to the cerebral and atmospheric Vecchi Rossetti, to the mouthwatering piña colada of Siparia and juicy melon of Mangiamo Dopo Teatro, to the green and earthy Stecca, poignant with childhood memories, I enjoyed each and every one. I was sure, on the first perfunctory sniff, that the fresh, sweet and simplistic Il Tuo Tulipano will be the one Soliani scent I won't like. Not so. There is so much more to Il Tuo Tulipano than seems at first. It does have a certain watery freshness but also a lot of ripe, honeyed, rosey sweetness. It has a pulpy, juicy, fruity aspect and is, obviosuly, floral, but it also dispalys a green, dry, earthy streak that runs through the composition. The gentle muskiness of its floral accord reminded me of my beloved Lancome Peut-Etre....the sharp greenness made me think of Soliani's own Stecca. Combine the two and you have an idea of Il Tuo Tulipano. Tulips don't really have that much of a smell apart from a certain wet, green freshness (which Soliani's rendition does include); to me, Il Tuo Tulipano is an ode to tulips' color rather than their non-aroma... a synesthesiac's delight. I think of the scent as of bright, dazzling red, with a touch of yellow, right where each delicately folded bud begins and where the verdant stem connects the flower to the soil that breeds it. I am wearing Il Tuo Tulipano to spite the cold weather, but I can't wait to let it blossom in all its feminine, bright glory when spring comes...with a red dress with full skirt, high heels and a new hope in heart. Available at New London Pharmacy and soon Luckyscent, at rather reasonable $75.00 for 50ml.

Hilde Soliani Stecca: Perfume Review

There is no fragrance more joyous, comforting and poignant than that of tomato vines. No fruit more bright and cheerful visually than tomato. No taste more summery. The whole plant is a delight to the senses. Hilde Soliani's Stecca is an ode to tomato leaf. It is green, fresh, rooty- as true to the smell of the actual vines and leaves as it gets. As it develops and the earthiness subsides a little, one can sense the aroma of fruits themselves; this slightly sweeter and simultaneously salty, juicy note make Stecca softer and, for the lack of a better word, airier, less earth-bound than CB I Hate Perfume's earthy-green masterpiece Memory of Kindness. There isn't much to describe in terms of development: it is the smell of tomato plant in its entirety, earthier and greener in the beginning, somewhat riper n the middle, fresher in the base. The most pleasurable things in life are simple. Stecca is the smell (not a perfume, as in Proper Perfume, but smell) of uncomplicated, childish happiness. Among his Elementary Odes, Pablo Neruda has the Ode to Tomato, and I will leave you to savor it: The street filled with tomatoes midday, summer, light is halved like a tomato, its juice runs through the streets. In December, unabated, the tomato invades the kitchen, it enters at lunchtime, takes its ease on countertops, among glasses, butter dishes, blue saltcellars. It sheds its own light, benign majesty. Unfortunately, we must murder it: the knife sinks into living flesh, red viscera, a cool sun, profound, inexhaustible, populates the salads of Chile, happily, it is wed to the clear onion, and to celebrate the union we pour oil, essential child of the olive, onto its halved hemispheres, pepper adds its fragrance, salt, its magnetism; it is the wedding of the day, parsley hoists its flag, potatoes bubble vigorously, the aroma of the roast knocks at the door, it's time! come on! and, on the table, at the midpoint of summer, the tomato, star of earth, recurrent and fertile star, displays its convolutions, its canals, its remarkable amplitude and abundance, no pit, no husk, no leaves or thorns, the tomato offers its gift of fiery color and cool completeness. (translated by Margaret Sayers Peden) Stecca is available at New London Pharmacy, $175.00 for 100ml. Other posts dealing with tomato vines and garden theme: CB I Hate Perfume. Secret History Series Perfume Review: CB I Hate Perfume Memory of Kindness The Smell of the Garden Saint Parfum “Tomato Vine” Image source, allposters.com

In Search of Comfort: Hilde Soliani Bell'Antonio and Carnival Wax 1965

'Tis was a winter of discontent, an up and down spring, and a cruel summer. Fall 2008 finishes the cataclysmic year on a fittingly destructive note. What does a perfume lover do in a situation like that? Well, she goes in search for new comfort scents. Hilde Soliani Bell'Antonio and Carnival Wax 1965, which I tried thanks to my wonderful friend Elle, provide comfort in two very different ways, both tremendously satisfying. Bell'Antonio, is "focused on multi-nuanced aromatic tobacco and dark roasted coffee" (and that's exactly what it smells like, of not excessively tarry tobacco and hints of coffee). I can't think of two smells more attractive on their own, but bring them together and ...well, I can only describe the result as an olfactory, um, climax. Having said that, sensuality is not what Bell'Antonio all about for me, or not primarily anyway. Imagine that you are dating somebody who has to travel a lot, and he smokes (and you like the scent of cigarettes, of course). And when he is away and you go to sleep, you lie down on his side of the bed and on his pillow still lingers delicately the scent of his skin, his perfume and his cigarettes...that unique fragrance that is unlike anybody else's. You curl up under the blanket, you inhale that aroma and you are instantly comforted...or you put on one of his sweaters bearing the traces the same warm, elegant smoky perfume, and it is as if he is right next to you... That is Bell'Antonio. A masculine fragrance created to be worn by women. Whereas Bell'Antonio was comfort given by a man you love, Carnival Wax 1965 is, to me, the kind of comfort one would find in the arms and the house of one's mother or grandma. Now, if you go to Apothia and read the description of 1965 (all about hustlers, red skirts and booze), you'd get a very different impression of the scent. I don't know what kind of booze the copywriters were drinking, because there is nothing slutty, dirty or even a tiny bit sexy about this scent. This is the smell of the kitchen where blinis were being made, a buttery, sweet aroma of dough, vanilla and spices...and the smell of the skin of the baker, soft, infinitely familiar and absolutely comforting. Hilde Soliani Bell'Antonio is exclusive to newlondonpharmacy.com and retails for $175.00 for 3.3oz; Carnival Wax 1965 is sold at ronrobinsoninc.com, $95.00 for .35oz of oil. Image by Diego Uchitel.