Balestra pour Homme
Renato Balestra (1982)

There is something to be said for scent association. With our olfactory bulb sending information to the amygdala, the orbitofrontal cortex, over to the hippocampus, the memory center, the relationship between scent and memory can be powerful, startling, and often bittersweet. In this case for my older formulation bottle of Balestra Pour Homme (the one with the uniquely jagged cap and overall 80s design), I am taken to somewhere in the past, but the memory isn't specific, almost more like a sensation that brings me back to that time. These sensations are often with mixed emotions, a yearning for the past, and the tricks our brain makes into seeing through the rearview things that happened perhaps somewhat differently than what actually occurred at time. Life experience, knowledge, memories compounding memories, our memories can somewhat evolve as we do. But the core of these memories are often revealed through that one whiff of a scent. Perhaps it is a scent that was last smelled at that time, ages ago, and the inner recesses of the hippocampus have somehow retained it, can recall it. It's fascinating to imagine.

Had I smelled Balestra Pour Homme in the past and am just revisiting it again? Perhaps it was a scent that was quite similar. It has that musky, citrus, aromatic accord that was de rigueur for gentleman's scents at the time, but it's floral heart includes not only the usual suspects as carnation, rose, and lavender, but also lily of the valley. The latter makes infrequent appearances in frags that are marketed to men, but when it does, its most inviting to my nose and lends a sort of watery, green, pensive quality. The contrast between this and the sweet citrus seems to the fulcrum to my memory stimulation. It lingers on, while the moss and leather come into the fore. It's this stage that almost reminds me of Hermes Rocabar, for which I am very fond.

The Welsh language has a wonderful word, hiraeth. It means a feeling of nostalgia for something that's now left in the distant past or something that has never happened at all. The "sweet poison of a different existence," that longing for the unrealizable largely constitutes the poetic essence of the British and especially the Celtic culture. This may not conjure up anything like this for others. They may even think, well, this is nice, but nothing outstanding really. But I feel hiraeth with this one, which is testament to the very personal connections we can have to fragrance, regardless what the general opinion might be.
Had I smelled Balestra Pour Homme in the past and am just revisiting again? Perhaps it was a scent that was quite similar. It has that musky, citrus, aromatic accord that was de rigueur for gentleman's scents at the time, but its floral heart includes not only the usual suspects as carnation, rose, and lavender, but also lily of the valley. The latter makes infrequent appearances in frags that are marketed to men, but when it does, its most inviting to my nose and lends a sort of watery, green, pensive quality. The contrast between this and the sweet citrus seems to the fulcrum to my memory stimulation. It lingers on, while the moss and leather come into the fore. It's this stage that almost reminds me of Hermes Rocabar, for which I am very fond.

The Welsh language has a wonderful word, hiraeth. It means a feeling of nostalgia for something that's now left in the distant past or something that has never happened at all. The "sweet poison of a different existence," that longing for the unrealizable largely constitutes the poetic essence of the British and especially the Celtic culture. This may not conjure up anything like this for others. They may even think, well, this is nice, but nothing outstanding really. But I feel hiraeth with this one, which is testament to the very personal connections we can have to fragrance, regardless what the general opinion might be.

*This is a review of the original formula of Balestra pour Homme.

Balestra pour Homme (vintage) opens with slightly sharp citric mandarin orange coupling with a fresh green lavender spiked aromatic accord with hints of oakmoss rising from the base immediately detectable. As the composition enters its early heart the lavender driven, oakmoss enhanced fresh aromatics remain, now infused with basil spice and a lily-of-the-valley floral infused ambery aquatic accord, with co-starring sharp cedar wood adding significant support. During the late dry-down the composition sheds most of its cedar wood, leaving the just detectable remnants to meld with the diminished ambery aquatic accord and the still remaining oakmoss with hints of synthetic light musk through the finish. Projection is good and longevity excellent at around 12 hours on skin.

I blind bought a bottle of vintage Balestra pour Homme (most likely the re-release from the early nineties) several years ago, but after trying it on skin and coming away a bit disappointed set the bottle aside to try again later... After waiting, and waiting, and waiting... I finally gave it another go, and this outing I am coming to terms with what it is... No, this fresh aromatic composition with floral aquatic elements is not going to set the world afire... It is far from innovative with the fresh, almost minty aromatic aquatic tendencies conjuring up a number of other releases from the nineties and beyond. That said, when one gets past the realization that this is far from the notable releases of the 80's (or 90's if being honest), it can be mildly appreciated as a pleasant, fresh composition in the same vein as Voyageur by Jean Patou that at the end of the day gets the job done. The bottom line is the discontinued $150 per 100ml bottle vintage formula of Balestra pour Homme may not overly impress, but while not particularly memorable still smells "good" to "very good," earning a 3 to 3.5 stars out of 5 rating and a tepid recommendation. That said, fans of (the superior) Voyageur will particularly want to sniff this, as it should be up their alley.

Ozonic muskiness
This classic casual fragrance, though finally a bit too much soapy/synthetic for my full pleasure, smells still modern (and basically sharp) nowadays because of its combination of woodsy-soapy oakmoss, musk, aqueous (refreshing) vetiver and marine notes (so "beated" at moment), really daring and fashinating with its exotic cool (spicy-ambery-musky) touch evocative of left back olfactoty fields. The floral notes are restrained and well combined with smooth marine elements and vetiver in a sort of balmy/ozonic mimosa (I mean mimosa like) aroma. Hints of balsams and amber complete the woodsy neutrality of the balmy/musky oakmoss while woody wet accents support the angular saltiness of the marine molecules. The aroma fluctuates between soapy/boise conservative traits (with white floral accents, musk and hints of botanic mildness) and a salty airy substance. The dry down is decidedly musky. Discreetly fresh all day long. Not bad my friends.
Pros: Aromatic and modern
Cons: May be too much soapy.