Or Noir by Pascal Morabito

Elegance that asks for no permission. It lit up my dark room and invited me to write more about it. It took me years to understand and fall in love with this ‘green’ family. Morabito boasts a huge lineage: Amazone, Cristalle, Votre, Private Collection, Ivoire, Givenchy III, Campagne… there are many more, some citrus, others oriental, woody, dirty green or clean. Understanding them today is difficult; we live in a gourmand era: warm, spiced, sweet. We still seek to seduce, comfort, and intoxicate. When we attempt something strong or olfactorily controversial, it is often avoided or used sparingly. The green family had its heyday between the late 60s and early 80s. They weren’t looking to smell ‘pretty’, but to generate an ‘atmosphere’. Not just the rose or the jasmine, but what surrounds them: stems with sap, a damp garden, bitter shade. Perfumes with presence, not for coquetry, made for adult, autonomous, refined women who bubbled up with abundance. The ‘real’ nature, not idealised. Something that today can be uncomfortable. It is not traditional femininity: it is intellectual, dominant, almost hostile (‘Bandit’, ‘Vivara’). Without motherhood, without romanticism, without complacency. There is a declaration of power, an introspective search amidst changing roles. Conceptual beauty, not immediate sensuality. They do not wish to be touched or approved of, they promise nothing… and yet they remain. One does not have to be always likable or desirable. This is what they remind us of. I know the beginning was long, but I needed this introduction to open up the beauty of the family and understand its personality. Morabito is a resinous-smoky green. Cassis, bergamot and aldehydes with green moss give a dry, slightly bitter vegetal freshness, evolving into a floral-creamy heart. It is a clean, bright green, not heavy; within the greens, it is wearable despite its ‘semi-bitter’ facet. Why do I love Morabito? Because I feel broken leaves between my fingers, the moisture of oak moss, the realistic verdancy of the narcissus, the metallic edge of the citrus. It is real: sometimes amplified, sometimes portrayed. It is not all sweet flowers and vanilla; nature has other nuances that need to be heard and seen. It is a walk through a lush forest, the green scent that mingles with the air. Simply wonderful. (Review based on the vintage eau de toilette)