The Time

The Time arrives as a contemplative fragrance for those who've grown weary of fragrances that shout. There's a deliberate intellectualism here—Cristian Calabrò has constructed something that rewards close inspection rather than broad proclamation. The opening salvo of absinthe wormwood and bergamot establishes an almost medicinal freshness, with the citrus providing luminous clarity before the wormwood's bitter-green edges assert themselves. This isn't cheerful citrus; this is citrus with a philosophy degree and a tendency toward long silences.

What distinguishes The Time is how the heart unfolds into something far more nuanced. Blue tea (that curious, floral-tinged note) intertwines with vervain to create an effect that's simultaneously herbal and ethereal—think of steeping chamomile whilst someone reads poetry in the adjacent room. The iris emerges with dusty elegance, grounding the composition without compromising its ephemeral quality. There's an almost aqueous quality to these middle notes, as though the fragrance is becoming more ethereal just as you're beginning to truly smell it.