Silences by Jacomo

Silences by Jacomo smells like a relic from another era where radical greens and aldehydes reigned supreme. As Oscar Wilde might say nostalgia is a trap that idealises what never was and that is precisely what happens here. At first galbanum hits hard—a furious green that refuses to yield yet it is not that fresh spring-wood scent; it is a harsh almost metallic green smelling of crushed dried herbs and dust. The aldehydes recall the golden days of Chanel No. 19 but here they are disconnected ghosts shadows of something that no longer matters. The flowers attempt to emerge from the chaotic herbaceousness but manage only a fleeting gesture that vanishes before touching the skin. While Chanel No. 19 is a masterpiece Silences seems like a lost imitator drowning in its own green noise. As Dalí said I only fear the past repeated without meaning.’ This perfume is an echo of something that did not need copying. If its only value lies in its ‘historical relevance then the future does not need to look back so often. It may serve those nostalgic for vintage but for the rest it smells like a dissonant tribute not a classic that endures.

Today I smelled that earthy green and woody scent again which transports me straight back to my childhood. It is like being in my father’s arms as he says goodbye. Perhaps I associate it with him because it retains that classic touch while the base notes—oakmoss vetiver sandalwood and cedar—are very masculine yet mysterious. It is incredible how memories cling to scents. Leaving nostalgia aside in Silences the flowers are ephemeral and dominate the base notes. I see it as ideal for formal wear and for evening. The longevity and sillage are good.

In the embrace of damp moss, the scents fall asleep. It is refined, green, full, and floral. The crisp, rough breezes of autumn carry me into the forest while the wind whispers secrets to those who deserve them. Leaves of vivid colours rustle without ceasing. Silences is beautiful yet eerie. From its opaque black bottle, resembling an urn, to its somewhat morbid name, it is a surrealist fragrance. It is connected to life, with green and floral notes signifying renewal, yet strangely disconnected from the familiar, a little rare. It reminds me of a René Magritte painting: so realistic it becomes unknown, that is, surrealist. In that painting, abstract spheres hover over a realistic landscape, making it strange. Silences by Jacomo is green to the extreme; after a bitter, herbaceous, almost calcareous opening of galbanum, it adds a touch of sweetness with orange blossom, then throws in lemon and bergamot to the mix just to remind you it is not joking with its radical green. Silences is much sharper (ironic, isn’t it? given the name?) than Chanel 19 and, in a sense, fills all the gaps that Chanel 19 leaves empty, acknowledging that the longevity and development of Chanel are undoubtedly superior. For me, all facets of this fragrance are perfectly balanced: the green, the flowers, the oak moss. It is interesting that it is a cool green, not warm. It brings to mind sitting by a window watching a spring storm, raindrops hitting the glass, a cold wind in the trees. It seems like a contemplative fragrance, an autumnal scent with few rivals. And that fresh wind, wherever it comes from, accompanies it from start to finish.

Silences makes me sad. I have no associated memories, but it smells like women from forty years ago, my mother, my teachers… something clicks and melancholy invades me. It is like a warm blanket that embraces you but also traps you. That is why I put another drop on to feel sad properly. The best thing is that it takes you straight to the eighties, not to the simplified version with blurry florals, but to the reality: normal people in grey offices, oversized clothes, long skirts and men’s shoes. It smells of those grey knitted jumpers, of female clerks with waistcoats and crumpled boots. It is a 1981 European scent, grey and industrial, different from the naive version of Vent Vert. Isolating the personal, it smells of a towel softener inspired by a forest, completely manufactured, with something that makes me visualise Northern Europe.

Light, green and dry, although @AnnaCé compared it to an infusion and she is right. I expected something more aquatic and less powdery; the iris, galbanum and vetiver sound too much like wood to me. It seems a bit matronly and, strangely, it gives me nostalgia. I do not think of a forest, but of a box full of black and white photographs or a cupboard smelling of mothballs and old clothes. I wanted it dearly, but it was not my cup of tea. I hope whoever swapped it with me enjoys it more and values it better than I did.

SILENCES DE JACOMO has not a shred of Dior, Burberry or Benetton. It is much more elegant and dressed-up, without losing that lightness that people love so much.