Romeo di Romeo Gigli by Romeo Gigli

I’m new to fragrances and struggle to name scents. At first, it smells a bit strong, but it fades quickly. The first time, I thought I was surrounded by white flowers, like water lilies. A few days later, it felt more like a clean floral incense. I’m not a floral fan, but I loved it for those days when I’m feeling spiritual, artistic, eccentric, and misunderstood.

I’d never heard of this brand or tried anything from them. I bought it for the price. The bottle is very original but uncomfortable to use or carry in a bag. It smells odd: not bad, just very aromatic, but I don’t feel comfortable in it. To me, it smells herbal, even though Fragrantica says it shouldn’t. After a while, floral notes appear, but my nose only detects herbal. It doesn’t last long on the skin, a bit longer on clothes. It’s not a bad perfume and I don’t dislike it, just not my style. I wouldn’t wear it to an event, but it’s fine for everyday use.

This perfume was insane. Amidst decades and trends, some fragrances defy fashion with their own personality. Romeo by Romeo Gigli was one of those. If I had to classify it, it’s a floral aromatic, but neither the floral nor the aromatic is normal. It was truly otherworldly. Here, asafoetida rules. I don’t know much about it, but I know it’s an Indian kitchen herb. Its Spanish name already gives it away: it’s filthy. In French, it’s “devil’s shit.” Raw, it smells nauseating, like garlic and onions. But when treated, as a spice in an Indian curry, it gives a delicious sweet garlic flavor. It all depends on the dosage. In cooking, you have to store it separately because it contaminates. In perfumery, it’s been used for centuries, and that mix of vegetable, garlic, onion, and Uruk-hai burps has a rough tone. In Romeo, it splits in two: green garlic and bitterness. It has two very distinct phases and you need to let it dry before buying. At first, it’s an explosion of flowers with a foamy, acidic, gummy, and grating texture. It’s floral, but not normal, like 90s cleaners that burn your eyes. It smells shrill, like narcotic flower candy and luminous citrus, with memories of shampoo or cleaning products. I’m surprised the mango is so low; it’s not noticeable, but it adds a slimy, young fruit tone alongside very sunny, daytime, yet poisonous flowers. There’s also bitter foam; I thought it was grapefruit, but it’s bergamot and fits perfectly. If you have a good nose, for seconds you smell a half-ripe red rose soaked in casia, which, combined with bergamot, creates an illusion of gaseous grapefruit. This phase is forgettable. The party starts when the asafoetida, now without flowers, reveals itself as the boss. The flowers fade into the background, and a rough, salty, sweet vegetal note emerges, flirting with umami. Do you know that matured, salty-but-not-salty taste of cheeses, red meats, and wines? That sensation of eating something that gives you a headache but you want more? That’s asafoetida in Romeo: a strange earthy residue that touches on rot, with hints of sweet garlic, overcooked leek, arugula, or spring onion. It leaves your nose and head collapsed in umami vapors, like a binge of salted butter popcorn or a dizzying chili and Valentina sauce marinade. I know it sounds unfriendly, but the asafoetida is so well-measured and balanced with casia and citrus that it doesn’t bother; instead, it turns this perfume into a 90s manual aromatic, rarer and more artistic. It has that misty texture of 80s men’s shower aromatics. Those vibes of grapefruit foam, casia shampoo, gym shower bergamots, and rough deodorants… all very much of their time, 1989/1993. It can’t deny the year it was born. P.S.: Did anyone try In Love Again by YSL? It was a 1998 failure, an out-of-place reverse oopart, because no one was making citrus/aromatic perfumes of that style anymore, which reminded people of a lady just out of the shower after an aerobics class with Jane Fonda in 1988. Romeo, when the flowers drop, can be a distant relative of In Love Again, just rarer, more avant-garde, and wild. And yes, with a sprig of arugula hanging from the mouth.

A very original perfume that my parents brought back from a trip to Malaysia almost 20 years ago. I remember it uniquely for its packaging and scent, and it had great longevity. I’ve never seen it anywhere else since.