Silences Eau de Parfum Sublime by Jacomo

Silences EDP Sublime is like those movie revivals nobody asked for. They tried to give a facelift to a dispensable classic, but what we have is a shadow of what it once was. The galbanum, once a sharp, dry hit, is now a sad whisper among heavy green notes—not the intriguing kind, but the ones that make you wonder why you’re still smelling them. Supposedly it’s more ‘modern’ thanks to blackcurrant and pear at the start, and yes, they’re there… for five seconds. Then it becomes a dusty mix of dull flowers that can’t even shine with the rose and narcissus. All covered by timid aldehydes that, instead of evoking Chanel No. 19 nostalgia, seem like a diluted version of a bottle forgotten on a supermarket shelf. The finishing touch is the dry-down: an invisible trail and longevity that, in one word, is non-existent. The only positive is that if you don’t like it, at least it disappears quickly. In short, the most sublime thing here is the ability to forget it within minutes of trying it.

It bears a strong resemblance to the original Silences, with slight differences but generally quite similar. It’s less earthy and mossy, and somewhat less aromatic. The sensation of a wet, melancholic forest that I loved so much in the pre-reformulated version… simply doesn’t give me the same vibe here, although the longevity and trail seem better in this new version. I wouldn’t go crazy to get the original nor pay the inflated prices, because I don’t think it’s worth the investment.

A classic herbal aldehydic fragrance with a vintage air. Silences is a delicate homage to yesteryear perfumery, where the herbal blends with aldehydes to give elegance and sobriety. It’s like a breath of humid air with green moss and earth; dawn in an enchanted forest, calm and mystery without stridency. Ideal for informal daily wear: discreet but present. It also works well for layering, adding a subtle nuance without competing. I’d love more projection and persistence, but its delicate essence and sober bottle reflect superior quality.

The first time I smelled it, those crisp greens gave me a tremendous fright: bitter, almost savourable, like chewing grass, with aggressive and raspy aldehydes. Then comes that floral musky vetiver, overwhelming, like a closed space, like a sixth-form tutor’s ambush, like a civil service class staring at you intently while talking about empathy. It needs a modern clergy with a shock presence to make the silence. On the second try, with the greens, it was like with Dijon mustard: already immunised against the initial punch, the edges of the aldehydes softened and the molecules slid more gently. It remains hard and rugged, but among the cut stems, small misty worlds are glimpsed, anchored with comforting and almost warm musk. By suggestion, I imagine valley lilies kept safe from the storm of brush-cutters that brings the Silences opening.

Marvellous. Very similar to the 19 Eau de Toilette, but less sharp. The notes are more rounded, like forming a whole. The iris doesn’t stand out so much, but the galbanum dominates and maintains the forest smell throughout the projection. The flowers are almost unnoticeable, but at the end, the wood remains. On my skin it lasts about seven hours, very close to the skin. Still, it’s worth it. I think I’ve finally found my perfume and the price is quite reasonable.