Etruscan Water
Francesca Bianchi (2019)

The very same notes that made me hesitant the first time I had my nose near Etruscan water are the same that I really enjoy a couple of years later. Back then, I was looking for a summery scent and was quickly excluding both this one and Libertine Neroli.

Immortelle, or curry plant, is polarising sometimes, and for me, it takes the leading part for the entire experience. The execution owes some inspiration to Histoires de Parfums’ 1740 Marquis de Sade, but is put into a different context. I get a sort of waxy, woolly antiquity shop vibe, but in the most intriguing way — more like going to the theatre or the opera in a slightly tipsy and exalted state of mind.
Together with the oak moss, the immortelle in the fragrance behaves a bit like L’Art de la guerre from Jovoy, but it has retained more sweetness and a bit more spicy facets. Libertine Neroli from the same house uses a very similar base, but whereas that one alters the total impression with bright citric top notes, I find Etruscan Water to be more of an allrounder, and a lot more masculine.

The emotional reaction is strong, like I mentioned above. While it has a late night aspect to it, it is also bringing on memories from voyages to the Mediterranean, sitting in a bar or restaurant, when breeze from the heated, stony garrigue terrain adds woods and the unmistakable immortelle to the scent of a mixed crowd as summer and sunny days tend towards autumn.

It has really become a personal favourite of mine. Yet it is to be worn with care, because I can easily grow weary from the strong performance — after eight hours’ time it is still a strong presence, and on clothes it remains for several days. Thumbs up, but try first.

Those of you who have read several of my reviews will likely have read this before: I’m a sucker for green perfumes. I’ve got a bias and I know it, so I try hard to keep it in check, but sometimes I just succumb to the bias because, well, why not; I like what I like, and that’s what perfume is for, after all. However, it was not a foregone conclusion that I was going to like Francesca Bianchi’s green perfume, Etruscan Water. As I make my way through the brand’s discovery set I notice recurring themes and styles: one of them, sex. Another, tending to reuse materials and having a sort-of devil-may-care attitude towards blending them; seeming to shove stuff into the formula and letting the materials lay very roughly and unevenly over each other.

The theme and style are working for Etruscan Water. The stylistic morass is no more apparent than it is at the beginning of the perfume, where everything - rough hewn, vivid and saturated, languidly laying over each other - catapults at you. Aldehydic galbanum, bergamot, tangerine, grapefruit, basil, immortelle, caraway, petitgrain, jasmine, orris butter, vetiver, musks, tree moss, labdanum… the kitchen sink, basically. Weirdly, it works! The aldehydes, hesperidics, galbanum, and petitgrain hover just above the surface; bracing, sunlit energy. Basil, immortelle, and caraway just underneath; more sun-scorched, parched-landscape goodness in the form of bright anisic notes. Jasmine and orris butter sit large in the background; indolic florals providing dry but powdery silky skin texture. Vetiver, labdanum, and enough musks and tree moss to make a whole other perfume, create the stage all of this sits on; salty, sweaty, oily, dirty, sea-kissed skin, and the woods of trees lining the coast and your sea-worn wood deck furniture. The image this is creating in my mind… just wow. It makes me feel lewd to the point I’m looking around to see if anyone is raising their eyebrows at me, but it’s also that kind of beach so who cares.

The hesperidics and green characters are the first to dry down, where the perfume goes very convincingly towards an anisic-immortelle-flecked chypre. Perhaps things have calmed down at the beach, the sun is going down, and the bronze-red glow of salty-sea-soaked and sunburnt skin against cooling shrubs and woods becomes more apparent. Green chypre this is not; it switches character quickly to a deep, woody, animalic, sticky, labdanum-tree moss-musk chypre. Mind you, since this is an extrait, I say quickly but that’s two to three hours after application, and maybe longer in more humid conditions. The perfume finishes in this chypre vein many, many hours later.

I want to wear this to a humid beach somewhere in the Mediterranean, where the sun is brutal and the energy is sultry and lively, where nature is allowed to thrive and it isn’t some well-manicured beach with tourist resorts and perfect-condition chairs and chaises; somewhere where real people and real nature let themselves free (maybe even free from clothing). It might very well be oppressively loud, huge, and lascivious in that humid heat but I don’t care. I would not be there to be coy, sit in the dark of foliage, and observe; neither is Etruscan Water. This is going in my full bottle collection, for sure.

A chypre of unique beauty. Musky, green, pungent and dusty. Starting from the opening and passing to the heart and then to drying, the perfume gives different phases, all extremely beautiful, soft. You can clearly perceive the accord of oak moss, petitgrain and citrus notes, basil, ambergris (synthetic I think), and the characteristic iris butter. The base is a beautiful accord of dusty iris, musk and woody notes (vetiver?). Luckily, no tonka bean or coumarin, so the fragrance never takes the sweetly chopped-up turn of the various chypre on the market. I feel it is masculine, classic, timeless. In short, Bianchi interpreted a classic of perfumery in a very personal way and the result was, in my opinion, an authentic masterpiece. Perhaps, at least in recent months, for me it has become the favorite of his line; Black Knight, Lover's Tale and Lost in Heaven follow closely. Chapeau, Francesca.

The fragrance has a musky floral scent, and it also contains a buttery note from the orris, as well as green elements from the oakmoss and immortelle. However, the drydown is a bit disappointing, as it has an ambery woody base with a hint of green and herbal notes. Ultimately, my opinion on this fragrance comes down to personal preference.

Ahhhh.... Etruscan Water.... A fragrance that has been very hyped on social media, as well as in the 'fragcomm'.... well, let's see:
In the top, I get a blast of musks, supported by basil, petitgrain and spices. Shortly after, the spicy/green trio will quitely tone down, to leave the florals take the center stage (mostly jasmine an immortelle, but the orris powderiness is also noticeable), with the musk still omnipresent, and that will show some animalic undertones. In the drydown will a subtle ambergris note appear, supported by an even subtlier vetiver and probably labdanum. Performance is moderate (at best) on my skin, a suprising point for a fragrance sold as extrait de parfum, on the higher side of the price range.
It's nice, it's indie, it smells like stuff that is not at sephora, I can't say the opposite, but not because it's indie will I refrain to say what I think (especially not at that price point). Now that it has been said, let's descent and land:

- This appears to me as a fully musky-floral, not at all chypre.
- Many talk about it of a 'citrus'-forward fragrance, but while the bergamot for sure plays its part in the blend, it's subtle. They are probably confused with the bitterness of the petitgrain in the early opening.
- the stars of the show are an ultra-soapy musk and an ultra-indolic jasmine, followed by basil, immortelle, spices and petitgrain (in that order, on my skin) are clearly noticeable as support.
- moss is noticeable in the base but it's not dominant: the jasmine will be omnipresent and dominating from heart to base, so I'm not sure why people talk about 'oakmoss' as if it was the main note in here... probably confused with spicy basil I guess, and must be trendy for frag enthusiasts to say 'my perfume has a lot of moss'. (that's the only reson I can think about, because it's definitely not an oakmoss-centric fragrance, but a musk and jasmine-centric fragrance)
- the ambergris is barely noticeable, and for that too, I wonder why people pick it up so easily: I think that people interpret the indolic facet of jasmine as being ambergris, As for the (micro) hint of saltiness: it's the work of the vetiver, not the ambergris.

The powerful indolic facet of the jasmine, added to the sopay musks and powdery orris, makes this fragrance lean slightly on the feminine side, and even the vetiver, petitgrain and subtle moss will never manage to bring it back on the unisex line. I find interesting that some question the wearability of Jicky or Mistouko for a man, while this one is way more feminine to my nose...
Like all the hyped fragrances, the expectations are high, and the risk for disappointment too... and this one makes no excpetions for me. Comparing with the stuff I have smelt around, I am glad I bought that one with a good 40% discount, and even though, I feel that it is beyond what I should have been charged for that one. I will not compare this to Irish Spring Soap (like some others have - somewhat rightfully - done), because it would be a little bit harsh, but I will not refrain from stating that this is nothing more than a glorified feminized take on Penhaligon's Douro. (had it been release by Armaf or Dua, I can already hear the criticisms...) I also get a (vague) similarity with No.5... is it just me?

For all these reasons, it's just ok for me, as of now - unless it grows on me later. I strongly suspect that many are biased on their great judgement, as it might be hard to admit a mistake when having shelled out blindly $135 for just 30ml of juice.
Is it good? Yes, it's good.
Is it $4.50/ml good? As per my standards, definitely not. But to each his own.

Spring/Fall days, women 30+ (men 40+).

Classic chypre in style, feels well thought out with nostalgic intentions, has lots of hidden mossy vibes and yellow floral astringency, loads of depth and totally French in character, wouldn't need a lot of this really as a little goes a long way, the bit I struggle with is the sort of burnt wool smell, like when your ironing a wool jumper on too higher temperature, I'm not huge on chypres so maybe it's a little unfair to comment but from what I've tried over the years this one seems very well made with excellent blending and respect.