Sole 149 ( Emilio Pucci )

This is my favorite of the colorful Pucci trio, which was released in 2009, and although I am not especially fond of it on its own, I think it's a successful piece of fine fragrance, done in a commendably inventive way. 

After Joop! broke new ground for tomato leaf with What About Adam, this leafy material began appearing in designer and niche perfumes of varying prestige. Eau de Campagne by Sisley is possibly the truest starting point for the mainstreaming of tomato leaf, but enthusiasts will agree that Joop! attempted to bring it to a younger demographic, with middling success (What About Adam is discontinued, and has been for quite some time). Other notable fragrances featuring this bitter, "stemmy" green note include Halston's Unbound for Men, Adidas Sport Field, and Lorenzo Villoresi's Spezie.

Another interesting note in the heart of Sole 149 is that of the infamous jasmine flower. Fragrances like 149, Anaïs Anaïs, and Tommy Girl showcase jasmine in three different ways, and convey just how surprisingly versatile and unisex it can be. Prior to getting into fragrance, I had always assumed that jasmine was just for girls, but it didn't take long for me to realize how untrue that assumption is. The rich sweetness of this flower lends itself to a wide variety of olfactory variables, in much the same way that white light yields a rainbow through a prism. They range from the warm-ambery, to an almost citric freshness, and 149's composition definitely leans toward the citric. It smells fine for a woman, but seems better suited for men, with its snappy galbanum, vetiver, and tomato leaf accentuating in equal measure its fresh, dusky jasmine note.

It's a bit simplistic, but Sole 149 is an example of how unconventional green notes can enhance the same-old, same-olds. Its vetiver is flat, and its galbanum, though well placed, smells the way galbanum tends to when left exposed to the elements: cheap. Nevertheless, with its brilliantly-placed tomato leaf note, its heart accord is concise and pleasant at all times. Despite a slightly unfinished feel, I think it's worth mentioning that this fragrance works because nose Michel Girard has extensive experience with fresh, earthy masculines (see Cerruti Pour Homme, Wolfgang Joop!, and Azzaro Pour Homme Elixir), and Pucci's brief must have been old hat for him. Creating a fragrance that brazenly highlights the beauty of crisp leaves and flowers without falling prey to undue soapiness is no small feat, and Sole 149 manages it nicely.

Sabbia 167 (Emilio Pucci)

I guess it should come as no surprise that the author of Bvlgari's Black and YSL's Body Kouros is responsible for this odd duck from Pucci. Annick Menardo's off-beat style is self evident here, but unlike her other offerings, Sabbia 167 lacks conviction, and suffers a sort of acute compositional awareness syndrome. The brief must have directly requested a lipstick-sweet, downright "fuzzy" iris, because that's all I get from Sabbia. And although I dislike it, I stop short of saying it's a poor fragrance. One thing is for sure - it's interesting.

There are only a few notes in Sabbia 167, and predominant among them is a very dry, baby-powdery rendition of iris. Lacquered into the base are more subtle renditions of saccharine mandarin orange, sandalwood, musk, and something akin to an Edwardian aftershave rose note, very lithely integrated between the powders and woods. The overall effect is of a very dry, sandy, sweet blush, like the smell of making out with a lipsticked girl at the beach. Actually, that's exactly what is seems like, sort of a nice association if you consider it. But the downside is its overbearing dryness, which eventually saps any sensuality away.

Sabbia 167 grows increasingly chemical and bare with time. Quality of materials is lacking in this fragrance, and I have to wonder whether it's (a) been reformulated, which isn't likely, or (b) not an entry in this Pucci series that was given much thought to begin with. It brings me back to the old adage in this community, that women should simply eschew gender branding and wear what's marketed to men. Ladies, if you want dry, powdery, and floral, save yourself the money and wear Coty's Musk for Men to better effect, or even Pinaud's Clubman Aftershave Lotion.

Acqua 330 (Emilio Pucci)

Acqua 330 came in a set of Pucci samplers that my ex-girlfriend had sitting among several million other forgotten things. She had a prodigious collection of junk, mostly leftover items from a life gone by. It felt sad to be surrounded by the lonely aftermath of her parents dying and leaving her with their house. Picture an acre of land, eight-tenths of it grass, and a 30 year-old man cutting it with a small push mower in 85° Connecticut heat, until the abused machine literally shakes apart. Then imagine a perpetually annoyed 31 year-old woman coming home, passing the newly-shorn lawn without noticing it, and stepping into the two-tenths of her acre that isn't overgrown with a freshly-minted rant about her co-workers prepared and ready to go. This was our dynamic for six months.

Throw into that unhappy little equation an unhappy little aquatic by the Italian fashion brand of Emilio Pucci, and you really have Paradise Lost. Ostensibly a modern floral in the aquatic style, Acqua 330 should, by all rights, smell nice. After all, Tommy Girl works pretty well. Why shouldn't this have equal success with the same basic formula (floral aroma chemicals, plus Calone, and a dash of white musk)? It's hard to say, and I'll concede that it isn't the worst thing I've ever smelled, but it's hard to like. 330 opens with a confident burst of marine notes, very salty, briny, fresh. It's a synthetic accord that seems to be a clever mixture of old and new Calone variants, which produce an off-key Atlantic-aquatic vibe. This hums along nicely, and I mentally compare 330 with the smell of the salty crust that forms on my skin whenever I get splashed by sea water.

Then the fragrance gets ambitious, and things take a turn for the worse. Jasmine makes an appearance, smelling very sweet and synthetic, followed by a soapy musk that threatens my senses with its overbearing strength. They egregiously mis-calibrated that musk. Eventually the synthetics become the only perceptible element, forming an unpleasant soap-lye drydown of no particular interest. This astoundingly disappointing ending is compounded by the realization that everything else about the fragrance is interesting, from its beautiful bottle, to its uncharacteristically corporate title. If only they'd focused on jasmine's indoles, instead of its freshness, Acqua 330 might have been worth the trouble. Bvlgari Aqva is a good example to follow. In the meantime, Acqua 330 is perfect for bitchy thirty-somethings who treat the important people in their lives like numbers, and amass incomprehensible piles of crap in inherited houses they can't afford. Thanks for filling that niche, Emilio!