Blonde by Versace

It’s so sweet that it made me dizzy.

Oh, my dear and brilliant Blonde! They say you’re a loud, intense white floral, but they’re wrong: you’ve never been simple. You’re complex, bewitching, narcotic, and dazzling. You’re extroverted, loud, and openly sexual; you love being the center of attention and leaving a mark. You are dust of memories and eternal beauty. Your neroli and gardenias have a carnal, creamy, spicy appearance; both fight for the spotlight until they tie. Beside them, slightly eclipsed, are the narcissus and carnation, yet you can feel them. Over those dazzling flowers, you note sweet, natural, wild fruity touches, plus a gourmand benzoin and civet that highlight your liberal, visceral character. Yes, you might scare at first, but in the end, you captivate the world because you are of it. Blonde is the most impressive white floral I’ve ever smelled: dirty, lascivious, overflowing, and indescribably beautiful. Deep, with great body and evolution, a worthy representative of the 80s and 90s. Over 12 hours of longevity and high-to-moderate projection in its final hours.

Spectacular. I’ve never smelled anything as incredible as when I met Blonde. I struggle to say which flower dominates, whether it’s the neroli or the gardenia, but it smells wet, creamy. To me, it’s a 100% 90s perfume, a ‘new rich’ scent, golden and bronzed. Whenever I can, I buy it.

The neroli is so potent that on my nose it smells like an absolute floral peach, precious and incredibly sweet. It’s so voluptuous it borders on the sweetness of a peach in syrup, so sweet it’s intoxicating. I expected to see it on the pyramid and it’s strange it’s not there, so I assume it’s that neroli at maximum power. It’s so potent and has so many nuances, oscillating between light and dark, the sweet and the wild, innocence and maturity. It’s a bomb; no need to say its projection and longevity are relentless. It gives the sensation of raising skin temperature; it’s a beast of a floral and neroli is its queen. Recently I reviewed White Shoulders; they aren’t similar, but I said it reminded me of vintage scent cards, as the neroli in Blonde still reminds me more of those cards. Both have neroli, and that’s the similarity. It smells like a giant collection of scent cards but with an outstanding character, much more mature than those pastel-colored papers with 80s will. I’m blown away; in my head, I can’t believe this doesn’t exist in the current market. It’s the best I’ve smelled from Versace, a damn bomb I discovered too late. I’m not one for signature perfumes, but I see myself wearing this for days, months, and more.

A very potent vintage perfume. Violet and neroli at maximum level. Pure luxury and class. Perfect for going out at night. The trail and projection are brutal, watch out with the drops. Not for those who want to go unnoticed. The bottle is top too; the 30 ml looks like a luxury blue soap bar.

Tuberose made into pure bacon. Talking about tuberose is talking about the quintessential animal and indolic floral. It’s an original flower from Mexico that the Spanish exported to the world, astounded by its narcotic and sweet aroma. Neroli is the opposite of soft flowers like lily of the valley or rose, even cold jasmine. Tuberose plays in a different league; it’s scandalous and loud, always shouting and refusing to hide. Even tamed, its only purpose is to seduce, make you think of pure sex, genitals, mucous membranes, frenetic rhythms. Any fragrance with neroli isn’t for the timid; whoever chooses it does so consciously. Blonde is more hyperbolic and loud than other nerolis like Mahora or Carolina Herrera. Blonde is too much, ultra, greedy, capricious, and if needed, impudent. It’s a yellow, syrupy tuberose, a Carpe Diem made into perfume with sexual fluids and sweet petals. It captures the exact moment just before orgasm. Versace started making little noise, but with Blonde they shed their complexes; the brand in 1995 sold baroque excess, a bacchanalian 90s Italy. Blonde is the epitome of that style. It’s the most overwhelming neroli I’ve heard, at maximum power with animal sweetness. After the initial citrus tone passes, it becomes more buttery, carnal, and vulgar. Sometimes I smell my hand and wonder if it’s perfume or a strip of salty bacon that doctors advise against but which, with bread and tomato, is delicious. It’s greasy, it’s morbid butter, a disaster. Essential for tuberose lovers; if the rest seem timid to you, try this. Your eyes will melt. P.S. If the perfume is good, the bottle is too: transparent with a matte-engraved Medusa and a cap with a fake diamond. 90s Italy with a stop in Miami, pure madness.

Blonde is Versace’s masterpiece for me. It starts as a shower of white flowers with benjamine and musk, refreshed by lemon, before those flowers gain a dirty, wild edge—perhaps from civet—ending with a powdery trail. I absolutely love the gardenia and orange blossom. It’s elegant, sublime, complex, and feminine, with that duality between the immaculate and the wild that is pure delight. The projection and longevity are incredible. I need to buy it again.

I love it to the core; it ran out and I can’t find it in Argentina anymore. To me, it IS THE PERFUME.