Fendi, "For Women"

With so many of the greats set for discontinuation, it probably seems silly to wax nostalgic about the original Fendi, which was discontinued all the way back in 2005, before any of the crippling restrictions went into effect. Even recently extinct Palazzo is a more practical cause celebre.  Still, before I'd ever heard anything about Guerlain or Givenchy, I was spending what seemed like a fortune at the time (1985) for a bottle of Fendi eau de toilette. It was one of the first perfumes I ever bought, and though it was intended for women and owning it would give me some explaining to do, I couldn't help myself. I had to have it.

I've always been a sucker for a good wood smoke fragrance, which is what I took Fendi to be. I had no idea what was actually in it.  I only knew they sold it in the women's department, and that I loved it beyond reason. Now I know the pyramid: cardamom, coriander, bergamot, mandarin, laurel leaves, lily-of-the-valley, geranium, cypress, cedar, moss, labdanum, tonka. What's most remarkable about this incredibly potent perfume--potent even among its eighties sisters--is how devoid of floral notes it is. What, even then, made it feminine? It has less florals than most of today's men's colognes. Dior Homme is far more floral than Fendi, but so are less overtly flowery male fragrances.

Smelling Fendi now, years after first purchasing it, I'm able to examine it a lot more closely, a little more out in the open, and I realize it really isn't a wood smoke fragrance either, not officially, not exactly.  It smells leathery, with incense undertones, a pronounced herbal influence, and spices.  The spices, of course, aren't polite.  Cardamom gives Fendi a piercing, camphorous quality, a touch of resinous warmth; coriander magnifies the combustibility, reinforcing the overall terpenoid character.

As it turns out, Fendi has a lot more in common with masculines than feminines, a disposition signaled by the advertisement, which depicted a woman snuggling up to Michelangelo's David, perhaps her inner male.  Fendi is closer to aromatic fragrances like Kouros (geranium, coriander, laurel), Trussardi (laurel, geranium, tonka, landanum), and Paco Rabanne (tonka, geranium, laurel) than Poison, Giorgio, or Paris.  Several years later, Fendi would affirm this by producing Fendi Uomo, a more officially masculine variation on the women's fragrance, close enough in spirit that the two might as well have been brothers.

Both EDT and EDP require a light touch.  Fendi EDP is a little less overtly smoky to my nose, but the dry down comes very close to what you get in the EDT.  Both have off the chart longevity.  Comparisons have been made to balsamic orientals like Youth Dew, Bal a Versailles, and Opium, but Fendi is nowhere close to keeping that company.  It has no fruity embellishments and, as mentioned, no discernible floral backbone.  Granted, Youth Dew is no delicate flower itself, but Fendi is butcher still, and maybe even ahead of its time.  Ten years younger, it relates very clearly to the original Comme des Garçons by Marc Buxton (geranium, cardamom, coriander, nutmeg, labdanum, cedarwood) and it has more than a little in common with Comme des Garçons 2 Man, as well, also by Buxton.  Michael Edwards classifies Fendi as a floral chypre, which seems a bit of a stretch.  Still, though not listed, oakmoss is in the basenotes, and lily of the valley IS, after all, a flower.  Fendi is still available online.  I would love to know who created it. 

Another One Bites the Dust: Fendi Palazzo

I'm having trouble figuring out why it's so hard to find much on the perfume blogs about Fendi Palazzo. I suppose it will be even harder now that the fragrance has been discontinued. Where it is mentioned, more often than not, the reviewer seems resolutely unimpressed with the juice, however high the marks for the bottle. Interestingly, that bottle seems the height of overkill to me, like the coat worn by a woman I saw pumping gas today: floor length velour, a bold print of recurring tiger heads, sparkling cut glass "jewels" for eyes. The bottle for Palazzo strikes me as something someone who pronounces Versace incorrectly might adore all out of proportion. I don't reget its discontinuation. The fragrance itself I'll have a hard time doing without.

On Basenotes they're downright merciless about Palazzo; on Makeupalley.com, a little less theatrically dismissive. The chief complaint seems to be what many of its detractors perceive as a striking similarity to Angel. I smell no such similarity. To me, Palazzo shares more in common with Karma by Lush. It has the bold assertiveness of Angel, along with its odd juxtaposition of off-center elements, and of course, being an Annick Menardo fragrance, it feels foody, all of which might be why people reach for that comparison. Then too, the patchouli is right up front. But for me it's as if Menardo refined and elevated Karma's appeal. There's absolutely a bit of the head shop to Palazzo: some incense, an ambience which comes off like smoke or resin. There's also a strange, citrus brightness there, albeit buried so deeply underneath the surface that it registers almost subliminally.

Palazzo is related to Menardo's Lolita Lempicka, as well, and in fact feels like a simultaneously muted and amped up version of that juice, where the sense of sugary saturation is adjusted to more tolerable levels. Palazzo subtracts Lolita's vanilla ad-infinitum foundation, replacing it with patchouli and gaic wood. Both fragrances have similar notes up top and in the middle. Down below they go their separate ways. I admire Lolita and even owned a small bottle for a time, until I faced the fact that it wasn't something I was going to get much if any wear out of and gifted it to someone else. It was something I wanted to like and wished I could wear, but it made me feel silly somehow, like I'd baked something in my easy bake oven and decided to smear it all over myself. Palazzo wears a more serious expression. It feels a little more sophisticated and I get a lot more mileage out of it.

And why not? There's a lot to like. It last forever, projects exceptionally, and though I seem to be anosmic to most musky scents, this one keeps reasserting itself throughout its lifespan. Palazzo is a friend whose merits I try to point out to the rest of my crowd, without much luck. More for me, as they say--while supplies last, anyway. Sephora, which has pulled Palazzo from its shelves in all but gift set form (packaged with shower gel), classifies it as a woody oriental. Osmoz regards it as "floral - woody musk" and, in addition to patchouli and gaic wood, lists the following notes: mandarin orange, lemon, bergamot, pink pepper, orange blossom, rose, and jasmine. I should also say that I see similarities between Palazzo and Burberry Brit Gold, though again, Palazzo manages to be everything I wish that other fragrance would be.