Hanbury
Maria Candida Gentile (2010)

This past weekend, I visited the New England Botanic Garden at Tower Hill, and there were small bitter orange trees and lemon trees in bloom. I inhaled the aroma of their blossoms, ethereal, sharp, and sunny, yet indolic. When applying Hanbury, I am immediately reminded of this, but here, these trees are mingled with honeyed mimosa in bloom, and the pairing smells so cheerful and promising. Gentile also created a calycanthus accord which I can discern in its heart, from my experience examining the fragrance of these flowers.

The beguiling deep maroon calycanthus (often colloquially known as "spice bush") emits notes of stewed fruit, wine, facets of allspice, even that of pineapple and tropical fruit esters, almost like bubble gum. She captures it pretty convincingly here, with the citrus florals and mimosa, tempering any candied sweetness with tartness and haze. I am almost reminded of grape flavored Lik-M-Aid Fun Dip (remember those powder pouches with the solid sugar "lik-a-stix"?). Fascinatingly enough, a reassuring, fresh laundry white musk, laced with dusty pollen and hay, is the plot twist here, extending all the precedes into the dry down.

Hanbury ignites both nostalgia and optimism in me and feels mood-lifting when I wear it. It's lovely stuff.

Surely among the nicest fragrances by Maria Candida Gentile, Hanbury opens with a really graceful and romantic bouquet of orange blossoms, mimosa, a drop of citrus, other powdery floral notes (I think I get something similar to muguet and some smooth white flowers) gently surrounded by a dusty, sort of grassy and waxy sweet accord of, I guess, amber, maybe vetiver, beeswax (imagine dry honey) and musk. Overall this is an extremely soft, yet vibrant blend decidedly evoking an “arcadian” imagery to me, more than Mediterranean as you would expect from this South-Italian based brand – it's warm, pastel, at the same time quite natural and with a palpable sort of crisp, bitter-sweet crunchy feel of grass perfectly giving a hint of realism to flowers and orange-resinous notes. Also both mimosa and beeswax give a really peculiar earthy-honey feel, which also enhances a slightly decadent side. Shortly a really well-balanced and charming fragrance perfectly ranging from bright lights to darker-earthier shades, smelling luscious and innocent at the same time – or, if you prefer, “carnal” and naif, or natural and dreamy at once. And also quite unique. Finally I also share the feel of “abstractness” other reviewers mentioned, a sort of simplicity and cleanliness with just the right touch of “syntheticness” giving Hanbury a contemporary shade, a sort of transparent consistency despite the realistic thickness of some notes. Great quality, great concept and perfect execution. Somehow just a little flat and linear, but tremendously pleasant and refined.

7,5-8/10

Another masterwork of class and refinement straight from one of the best italian niche brands. Maria Candida Gentile Hanbury is a diaphane aldehidic-molecular-(hay like e/o "baked bread-paper" like veined) white musky vegetal fragrance wirh a floral-earthy articulation, a bizarre white dustiness (a la Andrea Maack in style, Silk in particular jumps on mind), a dissonant indolic leafy-hesperidic undertone and a stunning smooth base mastered by pollen, benzoin and musk. All is sticky/vegetal, realistic and "floral nectar conjuring". The Calycantus/Acacia accord provides a vegetal-floral-sticky-earthy-"chamomile/magnolia like" atmosphere of extreme refinement (enriching an otherwise overly musky-silky linearity) while an earth-papyrus-pollen-benzoin-tonka connection elicits a weird sort of soapy-floral-roasted vibe. The deep dry down is floral soapy, tobacco-like veined and extremely refined. Not more to say apart that I find the Hanbury's aroma perfectly balanced, poetic and erotic.

It opens up on a startling note of pink bubblegum, which is apparently due to the calycanthus in this composition. Calycanthus, or so-called "sweetshrub" in laymen's terms, is an insignificant shrubby plant with attractive purple flowers whose smell is halfway between grape/strawberry (hence the bubblegum effect) and a light, fruity red wine. Although I am not a fan of bubblegum notes in general, I have to say that it adds a juvenile, happy-go-lucky air that is quite in character with the cheerful, sunny nature of this scent as a whole.

The heart of the perfume puts the wearer straight into the gardens after which it is named - a very lush and natural setting by the rocky cliffs near the Costa Azzurra. The blend of green-tinged neroli, bitter orange and creamy sweet orange feels voluptuous without the slight sleaziness I often pick up in other orange blossom-centered scents. It is not indolic in the slightest, making it a versatile wear even in the hottest of climates. It does veer towards the edge of extreme sweetness at times, but I find that there is something here - the lime? mimosa? - always ready to pull it back before it crosses the line. There is a slight pinch of bitterness running through it that cuts the natural soapiness of orange blossoms in just the right way. Very natural-smelling, refined, and balanced.

The botanical garden of Hanbury is based in Ventimiglia which lingers on the italian side of the costa azzurra.
Explosions of flowers wait behind high walls which protect the gardens from the curious eyes of the outsider. The flowers lift up under the strikingly blue morning sky like the song of a single flute. During the day they warm up getting fuller, adding up to a heavier and opulent chant , yet never losing their elegance and tone of white.
They linger along when the dawn resolves them from the torture of the heat donating a bit of rest in a cool wind from the sea. A symphony swelling on and off during the day. This beauty plays with you .Once catapulting you right into the middle of a flower bush, once letting you rest under it.
And sometimes, in the moments of greatest desire, it allows you only to perceive its beauty as a whisper from afar while you are waiting impatiently to be let into the palace and a soft breeze carries the promise of eternal beauty over the thick walls...

painfully beautiful... I cant get around a bottle

The name of the fragrance derives from the Giardini Botanici Hanbury, a botanical garden located in northern Italy. Established on a small, steep peninsula jutting southwards into the Mediterranean Sea, the garden is home to a wide flora that thrives in this mild climate. Hanbury is Signora Gentile's take on a fragrance profile of the garden in springtime, when its bouquet is blended by a soft and warm sea breeze. Trained in Grasse, she uses a very high ratio of natural essences in her creations.

Hanbury opens with sweet yet fresh lime, making for a green and succulent entrance. Swiftly neroli and orange fuse into it, adding a bright, warm and velvety facet. As the lime slowly fades from the spotlight, greenish and shimmering-sweet accents of acacia blossoms emerge, leading into the core. Next, I believe, is calycanthus. It smells intimate, a little herbal with a twist of dried fruit. As mimosa tunes in, beaming and reminiscent of honey, the impression becomes more profound and glowing. A balsamic, slightly burnt benzoin delicately shores up the base but Hanbury keeps the floral character, well into a subtly musky finish that persists for a very long time.

Altogether Hanbury is a chamber ensemble, rather than orchestra, and never fails to please me. It moves effortlessly from note to note, lingering on each one but never losing its guiding theme. It made me understand what classic Italian perfumery is about: simplicity, in this instance elegant and superbly done.