Springfield by Antonio Puig

I absolutely love Springfield. I use it a lot in the summer; it’s fresh with a subtle spicy touch, clean, and simple. Plus, it has great projection. I see it as unisex; I’m a woman and I’ve never refused to wear it. In the 90s, I shared it with my brother, and it brings back amazing memories. Highly recommended for those who want to escape current trends, which are so sticky and flashy. It’s versatile, with a sober but cheerful personality. Sometimes you don’t need to spend a fortune to smell good, and Springfield proves it.

Oh, Springfield! It’s like wearing it and feeling you’re still with me, my dear friend. I hope you smell just as good in heaven. Here remains your memory, this beautiful perfume, and your always kind smile, your willingness to help, your compassion, and tenderness.

It doesn’t matter your age; this is your dad’s cologne, with the permission of Brumel or Varon Dandy. A paradigmatically masculine classic fougère: green notes over a woody base, some lavender and bergamot, lots of basil, lots of alcohol (opening), touches of nutmeg and oakmoss in the classic style. Does it smell good? I don’t like it; it’s not my style, but I recognize its merit: it has good quality and efficiency. Hard to find anything better at that price. If you like these scents, forget about niche houses, weird brands, or oriental fragrances. This is already invented. You won’t find anything better. Buy, reapply 20 times a day, and you’ll have it for a year with that bottle.

Clean, soapy, and slightly classic, but without reaching the level of its more ‘dated’ fougères. Good longevity that gets you through a workday. You notice it strongly in the first hour, then it fades, though it remains perceptible to others if the wind is in your favor. I disagree that it’s only for over-50s. If someone doesn’t like green notes, they might think anything with vetiver or oakmoss is for octogenarians, but that’s not the case here. It looks great on anyone over 20.

I think it’s a huge hit. If you like fougère aromas, those green tones, the classic oakmoss, something elegant and classic, but without smelling too old, this is your perfume. Being inferior in performance to Drakkar Noir, Paco Rabanne, Azzaro Pour Homme, Quorum, etc., I do believe it smells less like your grandfather than the previous ones, and that’s where this Springfield delight succeeds. The dry-down is very good; it smells clean, like barbershop soap, with certain spicy notes, and nothing like old. I invite everyone of any age to try it; not everything is those cloying sweet perfumes that make everyone smell the same. At the current price of 12 euros, it’s a gift.

A wonderful classic that we still enjoy. Springfield is an EDT with a citrus and green opening, highlighting bergamot, before unfolding into rosemary, basil, vetiver, juniper, and nutmeg. In the dry down, you get woody notes like sandalwood and oakmoss with a touch of musk. The performance is solid for its composition and price; it lasts me about 6 hours with good projection in the first hour. It’s a classic that still stands the test of time, and although it’s masculine, it doesn’t feel dated. An absolute daily essential.

Discreet and effective. I agree that the name is very fitting. It starts with a slightly sweet bergamot note that blends with basil, tarragon, and juniper, giving a slightly camphorated herbal impression. All of this results in a twist on the house’s other green fragrances: much less wild than Quorum and not as aromatic as Agua Brava, but more subtle than both, proposing a simple, friendly, calm, and modestly elegant fragrance. The development maintains this impression, giving way to vetiver with a woody touch. The base is a combination of moss and slightly musky cedarwood. Reading reviews, I found one asking how a cologne could smell like freshly cut grass could please anyone. Another emphasized it smelled like ‘cheap stuff’ because it was cheap, though I think they meant it smelled vulgar because it was cheap. A third mentioned that an herbal fragrance seemed unremarkable to them and required something more ‘spectacular.’ Respecting these opinions, Springfield isn’t for that type of person who gets suffocated by field smells, needs designer clothes and tattoos to show elegance, and requires an intensely sugary ambroxan aromatic bubble to be pretty. Probably many would gain points by writing without spelling errors or emojis and leaving the phone during a date. Anyway, it’s a very pleasant masculine fragrance, with moderate longevity and projection, but great value for money. I recommend giving it a chance.

It’s a scent I absolutely love; nothing ‘old-man-ish,’ though it has very subtle, well-balanced 80s touches. Rosendo Mateu, who had hits in the 90s, gave Springfield (1993) a youthful and light twist, avoiding the heaviness of fragrances like Quorum. It’s fresh, green, and elegant, super versatile. My only gripe is that it has no sillage; after two hours, nobody smells it, but the skin scent is eternal and exquisite, like a clean barbershop. It’s not for teenagers today; I recommend anyone over 30 try it first. For the price, it’s worth owning.

Springfield lives up to its name: ‘Spring Field.’ It’s fresh, cheerful, and pastoral from centuries ago. It didn’t come out in 1993; rather, it evokes Florentine stills from the 15th century where green juices were extracted for courtiers. The scent is fresh, grounded, and contained: undulating lavender, vetiver grass, Segóbriga rosemary, mountain sage, and soft conifers. Notes of nutmeg, cardamom, lemon balm, bergamot, and basil create a crisp green accord, full of sun and bucolic landscapes. A base of sandalwood, crystal musk, and subtle moss. With limited performance, you have to use more, but it’s perfect. Rosendo Mateu, transmuted into a perfumer for Catherine de Medici’s court, offers his version of Aqva della Regina disguised as a supermarket cologne. A hidden treasure for those who know how to look.

I’m disappointed I didn’t review this drugstore gem sooner; it left me with so many good memories. It’s citrusy, spicy, green, with vetiver in the base; refreshing and natural, nothing like today’s stuff, but a 90s classic (it reminds me of Tommy Hilfiger). It’s a freshie, not aquatic. In the heat, the green notes and soft bergamot act as a relieving, sparkling touch. The development is slow, sailing over woods and a vetiver that smells like fresh fields. The effect is both youthful and mature. It has projection and longevity above expectations for this style. You can still find it easily in Spain at Clarel for four euros. Rosendo Mateu, king of honest perfumes, didn’t disappoint. Thanks for reminding me of it.

Entredicho, I agree with you that perfumes cannot be divided (for use) into age brackets. Because… what age are they referring to?, chronological or biological? (which don’t necessarily have to coincide). Or maybe mental? Perfumists don’t even distinguish perfumes by gender, so why box them in? It seems many commentators have little tact and sensitivity when they say things like: ‘that this or that fragrance smells rancid and is proper for older ladies or gentlemen.’ Those are rude expressions. A good perfume is timeless and classic. In fact, the materials used are practically the same today as they were 100 years ago. The only things that vary are the blends and proportions, as well as trends. Oh! And older people deserve the highest respect, just like young people, no less. Greetings.

I agree with you, Chelo, and I have the impression that anyone who loves perfumes (in general) and respects their fellow humans would never describe a fragrance with adjectives like ‘rancid,’ more than anything else, because surely some user who wears or loves it could feel, at the very least, estranged by the ignorance of someone incapable of understanding the depth of such a perfume, which might be their personal one. Then, it would be like calling someone rancid, old, smelly, or unpleasant. Anyone who loves and respects aromas respects the taste of any other person, just as the legitimacy of their nostalgia and choices when dressing an odor.

Thanks Ylla for that beautiful description of your first encounter with the cologne, a magical moment. The bottle I have is the first version; I still have some left. It was a gift from my sister (thanks to her I also discovered Agua Brava and then Le Male) back in ’94 or ’95. What mysterious power a scent has to transport us from the hook to the heart to that past moment spent with someone dear! Congratulations on catching that speedy runner.

I didn’t know about this cologne, but you’re right: Puig’s are undervalued. They’re great, like Agua Brava, Azur, or Lavender Water, at an ideal price. Why are they undervalued? Puig is a giant controlling house brands like Paco Rabanne, Carolina Herrera, Nina Ricci, and Jean Paul Gaultier. They also own Penhaligon’s and L’Artisan Parfumeur, plus luxury fragrances from Pachá Ibiza and various celebrities. They hold licenses for Prada and Valentino. They operate in over 140 countries, yes, Puig! Let’s take advantage of their amazing affordable perfumes that are worth so much more.

Undervalued like so many Puig colognes. It has a certain something that reminds me, upon sniffing, of the top notes of Dior’s Eau Sauvage: a subtle touch of cured salami. The alcohol stings at first but fades quickly, leaving a pleasant sillage for hours. Beautiful and nostalgic like Crossmen, Equinox, or Boston, in that line of ‘special’ colognes from our teenage years in the 90s.