Casamorati - Quattro Pizzi

Quattro Pizzi reads like a love letter to tuberose written in rum-soaked ink. The opening is disarmingly boozy—davana's fruit-liqueur quality amplified by actual rum, with coriander and pink pepper adding a fizzy, gin-and-tonic brightness that keeps the sweetness from cloying. But this is merely prologue to the main act: a tuberose rendered lush and tropical through coconut's buttery sweetness, creating something that hovers between white floral and piña colada without landing squarely in either camp. It's the kind of tuberose that wears a silk slip rather than a ballgown, languid rather than bombastic.

The genius lies in how the tobacco and hay anchor this potentially dessert-like composition, introducing an earthy, slightly musty quality that suggests sun-loungers in the shade rather than sunbathing at high noon. The tonka rounds everything with almond-y softness, whilst the tobacco remains blonde and honeyed rather than dark or leathery. There's a retro glamour here—this smells expensive in that particular Casamorati way, all vintage Italian beach clubs and women who drink Negronis at lunch. It's for those who want their florals served with a twist, who find straight tuberose too prim and tropical florals too obvious. Wear it when you want to smell sun-kissed and slightly louche, like you've just emerged from a long afternoon nap in rumpled linen.