Gieffeffe by Gianfranco Ferre

It’s an EDT still in production that performs like luxury. Fresh, white floral without any indolic notes, featuring a metallic and musky touch reminiscent of freshly laundered clothes and baby powder. Imagine cold water running through jasmine and freesia; it smells like a brand-new vanity and pureness. I first encountered it four years ago and thought it was a standout launch for its lack of the typical green acidity of that era; it’s more elegant and formal than sporty summer waters, perfect for dressing up. Its woody, amber, and patchouli base gives it that sophisticated Italian vibe. Very refreshing for work, it leaves a trail for about half an hour, but those close to you will notice it; it fades to skin-level after 4-5 hours, lasting a full workday. A different option for spring and summer at a great price (around €15). I love it! I already use it on hot days, even though they say you shouldn’t take off your coat until May, we’ll see.

Does it sound like Hermès Un Jardin sur la Lagune to anyone? Same tone of wet, salty white flowers, same soapy aftertaste of a washing machine sparking with creation from Nagel. Gieffeffe was the Italian equivalent of those 90s unisex waters like CK One. Paco Rabanne brought out theirs, and Ferré, who was already fading in relevance, dared to follow Gieffeffe. Hey, it wasn’t bad. It’s still in production; it’s a sporty water but with a more mature packaging than the others, which leaned toward sterile, youthful cleanliness. It smelled like creamy Dove soap bars, that citrus/musky/soapy mineral vibe. It carries lots of coriander and osmanthus, the latter responsible for that velvety citrus peel aftertaste. What I keep smelling non-stop is freesia, very unfeminine, without those mass-market acidic accords, all in the white floral range. It’s unisex and feels that way, but not your typical unisex; it leans toward body care like Sanex or Dove, yet nothing a man without gender constraints couldn’t wear. A very peculiar water, strange, salty, calcareous, and buzzing at two hundred RPM, smelling of citrus-floral and skin, but zero indolic white flowers, very spicy, with movement and speed, with that little abstract touch that could be the taste of clean floss, a fresh filling, or a calcium-clogged faucet; something rare, metallic, on the verge of being annoying but very pleasant. P.S.: You either love it or hate it. Back in the day, it didn’t suit me; as a young person, I hated white musk and industrial laundry scents. Now I’m not crazy about it, but it doesn’t bother me. I’ve loved trying it again because I never thought I’d make that connection with Un Jardin sur la Lagune. P.P.S.: It doesn’t resemble CK One at all.

To me, it smells like lacquer with citrus, and I get a wrinkled nose every time I smell it.

It became my fragrance, my signature, the scent that identified me and with which I was identified; we were one, soulmates. It lasted long on my skin, and I felt comfortable every day, but like every great love story, it had a sad ending… it was discontinued forever, and I couldn’t keep enjoying its delicious aroma, somewhat floral and fresh. I’ve searched and searched for something that identifies me as this fragrance did, but none has left its mark like Gieffeffe.

The fragrance of my youth, very citrus-floral, perfect for my country’s climate. The flowers stayed close to the skin; it wasn’t invasive. I used two bottles until it was discontinued. It brings back wonderful memories.

A very special classic for me, full of memories; running into it is like meeting that guy you hadn’t seen in years who always made your heart race. Softly sweet with intense longevity, far superior to almost all modern eau de parfums, perhaps because it belongs to the old school with many ingredients in its formula. That said, it hasn’t escaped being tinkered with and isn’t quite what it was at the start. I notice it’s creamy but nothing aggressive, rather delicate, maybe due to the nutmeg or freesia. Finding it today in a store outside Spain is a pleasant surprise worth smelling and remembering, because classics this simple and personal are rare these days, especially in niche perfumery. The only thing worth it in this tragedy of hardly finding anything we like in Spain’s big department stores is that you might stumble upon it by chance at an absurdly low price (in shops like the Gremlins store where Gizmo used to hang out), because sadly it no longer owns a name or advertising today. But in my world, it does, and with great honor it deserves a prominent spot on my shelf to remember times that, while not that distant, are already far away in today’s perfumery. Longevity is acceptable and the trail is moderate, which increases significantly with heat.

Floral fragrance, softly musky, smells similar to CK One.