Yendi
Roberto Capucci (1974)

Yendi by Roberto Capucci (1974) feels mostly like a response to Guerlain Chamade (1969) and Chanel No. 19 (1971), with the strange result of being fruity-green and aldehydic, two styles that usually don't mix. Yendi itself is the name of an ancient city in Ghana, so perhaps there is some inspiration being drawn there like Capucci would later do with Punjab by Roberto Capuccci (1978). Regardless, Yendi smells absolutely French, despite being an Italian brand possibly drawing inspiration from the African continent. Yendi would remain in production through to the 1980's, when Weruska and Joel took over distribution, but wouldn't really survive into the 21st century, as any form of green chypre became increasingly outmoded against gourmands, aquatics, and other modern things. During its day, Yendi would have been closest compared to things like Estée by Estée Lauder (1968).

The opening of Yendi is a brilliant aldehydic bergamot, lactonic peach, and hyacinth, reminding me somewhat of Edwardian Bouquet by Floris (1901) minus the big civet dose that fragrance has. Instead, we stay light and lively (like the old yogurt brand) through the heart of rose, muguet, cyclamen, and carnation. The orris is sneaky in how it comes up, mixing with styrax, sandalwood, oakmoss, and the aforementioned rose-carnation white floral combination to make a savon accord that reminds me greatly of some classic Avons of the period, like Avon Charisma (1970) and Avon Moonwind (1971). Is it possible that a high-end Italian designer decided to be inspired by an American downmarket MLM perfume brand? Unlikely, but not impossible. The Avon would have snuck some civet in there, whereas Yendi stays clean. Performance is good, but this isn't a powerhouse by any measure of the word, as it's just a tad early for it.

This middle-child of sorts in the green chypre genre of the era is a bit of everything from the extreme corners brought to that centered composition, being less aggressive than Chanel No. 19, lacking the big blackcurrant fruitiness of Chamade, adding in the aldehydes of classic mid-century design, and borrowing the Guerlain Mitsouko (1919) peach to make something of a grab-bag with a 70's twist. Avon would end up making something like this in later years with Avon Foxfire (1980), but big tuberose or dark animalic rose chypres with their leather or civet bases were already taking over for both stuff like Yendi and any downmarket riffs there might have been. Perhaps then that is why Yendi will always have a strong cult following even post-discontinuation (aftermarket prices support this), even if the general public isn't going to really "get" what the big deal is, remembering instead things like Givenchy III (1970). Thumbs up

Vibrant green-spicy hyacinth with baby's breath corsage sparkle aldehydes meets a buttercream iris, round, glossy, and voluptuous flower-dappled woods. Yendi in EDT or parfum form is as impressive as No. 19 though its dialed back on galbanum and is less austere—more cheerful, approachable, smiling than steeped in contemplation and serious thought. This is not airhead, however, Yendi still feels astute, well-groomed, well-read and refined.

The iris amalgamates with the sandalwood in the dry down, encased in an oakmoss fondant. Moments of pencil shavings and dried flowers dazzle me as Yendi settles, I feel unfettered in the cool air, I am driven to do a leprechaun heel kick and exclaim "its great to be alive" and kneel to the hyacinths as if they made up an altar for springtime. In other words: this is some damn good stuff. 

It's not often you smell a fruity aldehydic, the two styles are opposed.
The fruity is simple and child like, the aldehyde mature - sophisticated.
Like No5 with a flash of peach, and then rasberry-like iris with a lipstick finish.

A beautiful and almost-innocently green fragrance that simply invites neck-nuzzling. It opens fizzily and then progresses to a slightly fruited and balsamic green that conjures the best parts of CHANEL No. 22 and CHANEL No. 19, combined. If this is, indeed, a chypre, it is the softest and most lovely one I've ever encountered. Like dreamily-green and downy feathers floating on a languorous sandalwood breeze, I am utterly enchanted by this vintage scent!

To my nose another of the non-scents.

It has a musty herbal opening, reminiscent of decaying flowers, then nothing.

None of Barbara Herman's reactions fit here: "Fizzy citrus, bright florals, musky dry down."

So light and inconsequential, it evaporates as you are trying to smell it.

Genre: Green

I liked Yendi right from the start, but every time I put it on I got this nagging feeling I'd smelled its fruity-green floral accord somewhere before. On the third or fourth wearing it finally hit me: it smells an awful lot like Globe, an extinct masculine that Jean-Claude Elléna did for Rochas in the 1990s. I sampled the two side-by-side to check my sanity, and am happy to report that it's not just my imagination. In its top notes and much of its heart Yendi is very close to Globe indeed! The two share a brilliantly balanced palette of sweetened green floral notes, bergamot, berries, and soft woods that paints a glowing spring landscape for the nostrils. While Globe sets its green floral accord over a fougère foundation, Yendi rests on a brisk, powdery floral chypre underpinning. The result is a happy green floral fragrance with all of the sophistication of Cristalle or Chanel No. 19, but none of the chilly hauteur.

Yendi's sillage and projection are both generous, an its lasting power is more than adequate. There are no seams, lumps, or rough spots anywhere in Yendi's progression. Instead, it has a natural, inevitable quality about it I've found only among the most balanced and well-blended of fragrances. Were it offered today as a niche scent or part of an “exclusive” designer line, I'd wager Yendi would win converts among perfume lovers, but in 1974 it was perhaps not merely prescient, but ahead of its time. Eminently worth seeking out.