This is one of those fragrances that hits differently depending on how experienced you are with obscure zombie brand masculines from the eighties and nineties. If you're not that guy, then trying Aura by Jacomo, which was released in 2000 and authored by Henri Bergia, will feel novel and interesting. As evidenced in reviews by prominent members of the fragrance community, like Lanier and Rich Milton, this is a striking fragrance that smells of a corner in Paris, or of manhood incarnate. I must say, though, I'm a little surprised neither reviewer mentions how grossly anachronistic it is. Aura smells good, but about fifteen years too late for what it offers, and certainly doesn't impart a Y2K vibe.
A look at the lesser-known reviews shows a pattern: words like “spicy,” “green,” “airy,” “fresh,” and “citrusy” come up again and again. Most don’t tie the scent to anything concrete, and that’s fine; not every fragrance needs a direct comparison. But then I wear it, and it doesn’t take long to realize: Aura is essentially a remix of three earlier scents -- Davidoff for Men, The Dreamer by Versace, and Vermeil for Men (also sold as Guepard), with Vermeil being the closest match. It's worth noting that when it was released in 1995, Vermeil for Men was outmoded by about ten years. Aura opens with a bright, fairly clean herbal-citrus accord, highlighting lemon, ginger, juniper, and especially sage. Then comes a fleeting note of cigarette tobacco, dry and subtle, but unmistakable.
After ten minutes, the destination is clear: fermented tobacco leaves. This is an unlit cigar -- like standing in Flatiron’s Eataly between a barrel of olives and a working torcedor. His leaves are spread out on the table; he’s clipping, ripping, rolling. A small box for discarded shake sits inches away, and now and then he tosses something in, releasing a rich whiff of brown leaf. Aura strongly resembles Vermeil for Men -- in fact, it reads as a slightly lighter, fresher version. They’re close enough in scent that you wouldn’t need both; one will do. What sets Aura apart is its smooth sandalwood base, which settles in an hour and carries the cigar accord through a full workday. Very nice stuff. Crap bottle, though.