Trussardi Skin

1 reseña

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• Espartaco

  December 25, 2020

  

  Trussardi has always been a bit of a wildcard since its inception. I suppose it started as that Italian leather goods house that later diversified into clothing, fragrances, and glasses. Many others have gone from strength to strength: Prada, Fendi, Louis Vuitton in France, or Loewe here. They started with handbags, hired the best designers and marketing teams, bought talent, and it’s rare they don’t spark desire. Trussardi didn’t get any of that; for forty years it kept a low profile. Aside from two launches in the eighties, it doesn’t have many standout fragrances. Let’s forget Python pour femme, a gem that blended Samsara with Organza. In between, this wonder gets lost and deserves to be rediscovered. Skin doesn’t deceive: just looking at its sleek, modern bottle, you know it’s one of those zen waters from the early 2000s. It smells like Lancôme Calm, Bvlgari’s teas, Givenchy’s Hot Water, and those chill-out spa lines that were all the rage in the late nineties. I admit it’s a family that drives me crazy: soft lotions with a sophisticated, super-clean dry down of woods, citrus, and flowers. I’ve always liked them, and now that I’m getting older, even more so. Skin was the bee’s knees. It opened with an avalanche of bruised citrus; maybe that was the part that least appealed to me. I like apples to eat, preferably red; nothing gives me more revulsion than those sour green apples, just thinking about them makes my stomach turn. It’s a revitalizing note, salty, fast, and refreshing, like Light Blue, Ralph Lauren, or DKNY’s Be Delicious. I don’t enjoy it; it smells like fruity vinegar, apple-freesia. In Skin, the first blast of green apple as a top note passed quickly, and what came after was marvelous. Over a bed of citrus with memories of wet bergamot peel and that comfortable, plush tone of the tangerine-musk blend, supported undoubtedly by pink pepper, equally a soft note like a pillow to rest your head on, the violet leaf became the queen. God knows I hate it; I only like its flower. This b*tch, when it leads a fragrance, gives it a sugary, granulated sweetness that upsets my insides. But how I love it when, instead of presenting itself as the drill sergeant, it adds light, electricity, a bolt of lightning in a storm, ozone scales. That was the violet leaf of Skin: a transparent leaf, a bottled ray. It turned Skin into a divine, unisex water, like an Eau de Cartier but less asphalt-y, more musky and woody. Recently I was able to try it again and it put me in a cloud. It shines little and feels little, though with good longevity. But I don’t need anything more with lotions like this. Bottled heaven. P.S.: Mix in your mind Light Blue, Infusion d’Iris, Eau de Cartier, and the lovely Té bleu de Bvlgari; that’s what Skin was or is. P.S. II: Both this and Python are more than discontinued and available at niche prices on eBay; if you find them out of nowhere in an old perfume shop, don’t hesitate, they’re worth it.