Gieffeffe by Gianfranco Ferre

It’s an EdT still standing strong, not discontinued. Solid performance, fresh white floral with no indolic notes and a metallic touch as Spartacus says. Unisex, soft citrus, musky and talcum-powdered; very aromatic, spiced and fresh like icy water in marble fountains among jasmine and freesia. Smells like a new dressing room, clean, sun-dried sheets, purity and clear waters. I met it four years ago and thought it was new because it wasn’t as citrusy and green as those of its era; it’s more elegant than the carefree summer waters, inviting you to dress ‘in your Sunday best’. Perhaps due to that talcum, woody and amber base with patchouli, or because it’s Italian, it has that elegant and natural air. Very refreshing and formal, ideal for work. Sillage lasts a few hours, not overpowering but noticeable to those close by; fades to skin level after 4-5 hours, lasting half a day, perfect for an EdT. A different option for spring and summer at a good price, I think around £15. I love it! I wear it generously in the heat and already look for my freshies, although they say ‘you don’t take off your cloak until 40 of May’ and we’ll see.

Does it sound like Un Jardin dans la Laguna by Hermès to anyone? Same tone of wet, salty white flowers, same soapy aftertaste of a washing machine sparking with Nagel’s creation. Gieffeffe was the Italian equivalent of the nineties unisex waters like CK One. Paco Rabanne brought out his own, and Ferré, who by then was already fading, dared to do Gieffeffe. And listen, it wasn’t bad. It’s still produced; it’s a sport water but with more mature packaging than the others, which leaned towards aseptic, youthful cleanliness. It smelled like creamy Dove soap tablets, that citrus/musky/mineral soapy taste. It carries plenty of coriander and osmanthus, the latter responsible for the velvety fruit skin aftertaste. What I keep smelling without stop is freesia, little feminine, without mass-market acidic accords, all in the white range. It’s unisex and feels like it, but not a usual unisex; it leans towards body care types like Sanex or Dove, yet nothing a man without gender constraints couldn’t wear. A very peculiar water, strange, salty, calcareous and at two hundred revolutions, smelling of citrus flowers and skin, but zero indolic white flowers, very spiced, with movement and speed, with that little abstract point that could be the taste of clean gum, new filling, or a calcium-clogged tap; something rare, metallic, on the verge of being annoying but very pleasant. PD: You love it or hate it. I didn’t like it at the time; as a young person, I detested white musk and industrial laundry scents. Now I’m not going crazy, but it doesn’t disgust me. I’ve loved trying it again because I never thought I’d make that association with Un Jardin sur la Lagune. PD II: It doesn’t resemble CK One at all.

Doesn’t anyone else think it sounds like Un Jardin sur la Lagune by Hermès? Same tone of wet, salty white flowers, same soapy aftertaste of a washing machine sparking with creation from Nagel. Gieffeffe was the Italian equivalent of the unisex waters of the nineties, like CK One. Paco Rabanne brought out his own, and Ferré, who was then importing little, dared to try Gieffeffe. And listen, it wasn’t bad. It’s still in production, a sporty water but with a more mature packaging than the others, which leaned towards aseptic, youthful cleanliness. It smelled like creamy Dove soap tablets, that citrus/musky/mineral soapy taste. It carries plenty of coriander and osmanthus, the latter responsible for the velvety citrus peel aftertaste. What I keep smelling without stopping is freesia, not very feminine, without mass-market acidic accords, all in the white range. It’s unisex and feels like it, but not a usual unisex; it leans towards body care like Sanex or Dove, yet nothing a man without gender ties couldn’t wear. A very peculiar, strange, salty, calcareous and 200-rpm water, smelling of flowers and citrus skin, but zero indolic white flowers, very spiced, with movement and speed, with that little abstract point that could be the taste of clean gum, new filling or a calcium-clogged tap; something rare, metallic, on the verge of being annoying but very pleasant. PS: You love it or hate it. I didn’t like it at the time, as a young man I detested white musk and industrial laundry scents. Now I’m not going crazy, but it doesn’t disgust me. I’ve loved trying it again because I never thought it would make that association with Un Jardin sur la Lagune. PS II: It doesn’t resemble CK One at all.

It became my fragrance, my signature, the scent with which you identify and are identified; we were one, soulmates. It lasted a long time on my skin and I felt comfortable every day, but like every great love story, it had a sad ending… it was discontinued forever and I couldn’t continue enjoying its delicious aroma, somewhat floral and fresh. I have searched and searched for something that identifies me as this fragrance did, but none has left its mark like Gieffeffe.

The scent of my youth, very citrusy and floral, perfect for the climate of my homeland. The flowers sat right on the skin, nothing invasive. I used two bottles before they discontinued it, and it brings back wonderful memories.

A very special classic for me, full of memories; finding it is like meeting that boy you hadn’t seen for years who always made your heart flutter. Softly sweet with intense longevity, far superior to almost all eau de parfums today, perhaps because it belongs to the old school with many ingredients in its formula. Nevertheless, it hasn’t escaped being tampered with and is no longer as it was in its beginnings. I find it creamy, yet nothing aggressive, but delicate, perhaps due to the nutmeg or freesia. Finding it today in a perfumery outside Spain is a pleasant surprise worth smelling and remembering, because classics so simple and with personality are few and far between nowadays. The only reason it’s worth seeking out in this tragedy of not finding much we like in the big Spanish perfumeries is that you can stumble upon it by chance at an irrisible price (in shops like the Gremlins’ where Gizmo used to be), because unfortunately, they no longer own the name or advertising today. But in my world, it certainly does, and with great honour it deserves a prominent place on my shelf to remember times that, although not so distant, are already far away in today’s perfumery. Longevity is acceptable and the sillage is moderate, which increases greatly with the temperature.

A floral fragrance with a soft musk note that reminds me quite a bit of CK One.