V by Valentino

A subtle yet charming scent, featuring a floating amber note over a very pleasant woody base. There’s a citrus touch and a hint of sweetness, but nothing cloying. It smells like a gentleman’s perfume and brings me a sense of calm; I feel it’s unisex, perfect for dates, moments with a partner, or simple personal enjoyment. The bottle is also beautiful and high-quality; it’s a discontinued fragrance that’s hard to find, and I got it at a great price.

Finally, I got my hands on it, what a marvel. It smells divine; the trail and longevity are impressive. Fig, sandalwood, and wood are the stars—it’s super addictive, sweet but doesn’t fall into gourmand territory; it’s an elegant, warm sweetness.

I do have it! I’ve had this perfume for years and still have half a bottle left. It’s true the bottle is ugly as Spartacus says, but the perfume is marvelous, nothing like the recent Valentino releases. It’s fine, elegant, original without being loud… I don’t know, I’m not good at describing notes, I can only say it’s a work of art in perfumery.

Last Saturday night at a packed bar, someone smelled like what drives me crazy. I sniffed around like a dog searching for that 2000s woody scent, but couldn’t find the owner. I wanted to kill myself for not knowing what it was; it smelled like Cristóbal Balenciaga for women, with sandalwood and fig tree; here the sandalwood was luminous, but there was something squid-like and acrid, warm and rough. Minutes passed, I stopped smelling it, and with my gin tonics, I forgot about it. In the bathroom line, I noticed the perfume nearby again. It was the girl next to me. Half-drunk, I lost my shame and told her she smelled good and asked if I could smell her neck. She gave permission, and I was blown away. It smelled like a woody oriental with R&B music video touches, delicate, sweet, mysterious, and unisex. I asked for the name, and she didn’t remember. Or wait, yes. J’adore by Dior. Me thinking, no way, friend J’adore and I don’t get along, I find it repulsive. She insisted it was J’adore and confirmed that was what she was wearing. I smelled her neck again, saying goodbye to that exquisite sandalwood with a sweaty, animalic base, and left. Until I saw her again searching and couldn’t find her. She was carrying a gift vial, a 10ml roll-on from a box, and said, ‘It’s this one, you were right, it’s not J’adore, it was in my bag and I forgot.’ I looked at the tube. V by Valentino. She gave me permission to put it on my hand. From that point on, I sniffed like a madman for the rest of the night while my friends asked what the hell I was doing, as if I had a disorder. V by Valentino was completely overlooked before. The campaign was bad, the bottle ugly, and the bland name seemed like any floral musk out there. It seems the world missed it for four days and never heard of it again. How many wonderful perfumes are lost due to poor communication. Bad names, ugly bottles, boring campaigns. This is a case where the uninspired bottle and name hide a beautiful perfume: delicate sandalwood with polished wood nuances and an acrid base with subtle fig, ambergris, and rose that seem like a sophisticated animal musk. It’s androgynous, unisex, delicate, and delicious, with hints of sweet human skin like dew with pollen; impossible not to smell it and not want to bite the neck. I’m finally satisfied with the urge to own it and bathe in it; it has that pristine, immaculate, and sexy nature of sandalwoods like Cristóbal Balenciaga Femme, Very Valentino By for Men, D&G Gucci Rush for Men, or Vanderbilt’s Honeymoon; that sinful, delicate, unisex air they share. It could be the perfume of an angel who is too human. Unfortunately, it’s discontinued, and surprise, another invention by Alberto Morillas. How nice to meet you, and how short the infatuation lasted.

Smells amazing, subtle and charming.

This was my first Valentino; it smells super precise and unique. The fragrance lasts a long time, and you can tell with just three sprays. The bottle is very original, like the whole line. The only downside is that in Mexico, there’s almost no Valentino market.