Versace
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The citrus accord hits with that unmistakable synthetic brightness, lemon and mandarin rendered in neon rather than natural hues, whilst elemi resin provides an oddly resinous, almost turpentine-like edge. Pink pepper adds a fizzing quality that makes the whole opening feel deliberately artificial, like biting into a boiled sweet coated in sherbet. It's loud, sweet, and utterly unsubtle from the first spray.
As the aromatic heart emerges, lavender and sage attempt to bring some Mediterranean herbaceousness, with geranium adding a slightly metallic, green facet. But these classical elements are already being overtaken by the vanilla and benzoin creeping up from below, turning the aromatics into something softer, sweeter, almost marshmallow-like. The freshness is rapidly dissolving into confectionery.
What remains is predominantly that vanilla-benzoin combination, thick and almost edible, with cashmeran providing a woody-musky foundation that smells more like fabric softener than actual woods. The patchouli and vetiver are barely distinguishable as individual notes, instead forming a generic 'masculine base' that keeps the sweetness tethered to skin. It's warm, enveloping, and relentlessly saccharine—a sugar cloud that refuses to dissipate.
Eros Parfum takes the aquatic bravado of its ancestors and drowns it in a vat of caramelised vanilla, emerging as something altogether more syrupy and unapologetic. This is Versace's sweet tooth on full display—Olivier Pescheux has amplified the gourmand elements until they dominate everything else, the citrus opening merely a fleeting pretence before the sugar rush begins. That elemi resin adds a curious peppered pine quality that prevents the lemon and mandarin from reading as natural; instead, they feel deliberately synthetic, almost like those sherbet sweets that dissolve on your tongue with artificial intensity. The heart's aromatic trio of sage, lavender, and geranium attempts to provide some classical structure, but they're quickly smothered by the base's relentless sweetness. Benzoin and vanilla form an almost fudge-like accord, whilst cashmeran lends that woody-musky heft that's become ubiquitous in modern masculines. The patchouli feels scrubbed clean, more texture than darkness, and the vetiver barely registers as distinct—both serve merely to keep this confection from floating away entirely. This is for those who want to announce their presence with olfactory certainty, who see fragrance as armour rather than whisper. It's the scent of nightclub queues and first dates where confidence matters more than subtlety, worn by those who've never met a compliment they didn't chase. Not remotely fresh despite what those accords suggest—this is synthetic sweetness weaponised, and you'll either find it irresistible or utterly exhausting.
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3.4/5 (95)