Silences Eau de Parfum Sublime by Jacomo

Silences EDP Sublime is a movie remake nobody asked for. They tried to refresh a dispensable classic, but the result is a shadow of what it used to be. The galbanum, once a sharp hit, is now a sad whisper among extremely heavy green notes that don’t intrigue but make you wonder why you keep smelling it. The raspberry and pear opening lasts five seconds, then everything turns into a dull floral powder that doesn’t even shine with the rose. The aldehydes are timid, like a bottle forgotten in the grocery store. The dry-down is invisible and the longevity is non-existent. The only good thing: if you don’t like it, it disappears fast. In short, the sublime is forgetting it in minutes.

It’s very similar to the original Silences, with slight differences but generally quite alike. It’s less earthy and mossy, and a bit less aromatic. The feeling of a wet, sad forest that I loved so much in the unreformulated version… it doesn’t give me the same melancholic vibe here, even though the longevity and trail seem better in this new version. I wouldn’t go crazy to get the unreformulated one or pay the high price, because I don’t think it’s worth the investment.

A classic herbal aldehydic fragrance with a vintage vibe. Silences is a delicate homage to old-school perfumery, where herbal notes blend with aldehydes to create elegance and sobriety. It’s like a breath of humid air with green moss and earthiness; a dawn in an enchanted forest, calm and mysterious without being loud. Ideal for informal daily wear: discreet but present. It also works well for layering, adding a subtle nuance without competing. I’d love more projection and longevity, but its delicate essence and sober bottle reflect superior quality.

The first time I smelled it, those crisp greens gave me a real shock: bitter, almost edible, like chewing on grass, with aggressive, scratchy aldehydes. Then comes that floral, musky vetiver—overpowering, like a cramped space, a sixth-grade teacher cornering you, or a civil servant staring you down while lecturing on empathy. It needs a modern clergy with a jolt of shock to make the silence work. On the second try, the greens faded away like Dijon mustard: once you’re immune to the initial punch, the aldehyde edges soften, and the molecules glide more gently. It’s still hard and rugged, but among the cut stems, you can glimpse small, misty worlds, anchored by comforting, almost warm musk. I imagine valley lilies tucked away safely from the mowing-machine storm that Silences brings with its exit.

Amazing. Very similar to 19 Eau de Toilette, but less sharp. The notes feel more rounded, like a cohesive whole. The iris isn’t as prominent, but galbanum dominates, keeping that forest vibe throughout the projection. I barely notice the florals, but it ends on a woody drydown. It lasts about seven hours on my skin, very close to the skin. Still, it’s worth it. I think I’ve finally found my perfume, and the price is quite reasonable.