Fidji (1966)
by Guy Laroche

I was not aware there was a new less interesting version of Fidji. If so, this is a shame. I loved the original 1966 version. IMHO, Fidji was one of the best green florals of that era. It was fresh and light yet very sensuous and intoxicating. Not too long ago, I was in a lift with a woman who was wearing the original Fidji. It brought back a lot of good memories.

7th September, 2011.

I was initially quite disappointed when I spritzed on some FIDJI from a recently purchased (and anxiously anticipated!) bottle of edt. The perfume did not bear much resemblance at all to my memory of my first encounter with a vintage sample of a perfume by the same name. I re-read my earlier gushing review of vintage FIDJI (at The Other Site) and realized at once that only reformulation could explain the disparity.

Upon seeing BayKAT's sage warning (in her review, below), I recognized that I had been played for a dupe. Yes, once again, I had been bamboozled into buying a 100ml bottle of a perfume based essentially on a lie, to wit: that the contents of this bottle, labeled FIDJI, were essentially the same as the contents of the sample vial which motivated me to seek out and acquire this perfume in the first place. Alas, FIDJI is not FIDJI anymore.

All of that said, I have to admit that now, having recovered from the initial shock of my dashed expectations, I do actually like the new FIDJI, for what it is: a relatively dry and green floral inching toward the chypre line (and boasting both oak moss and tree moss among its ingredients), but still spare enough to be more of a floral than anything else. A dry white floral with big jasmine and, it seems to me, neroli. This FIDJI (though I am tempted to refer to it now as FUDJI...) is a very nice, sprightly floral green. Neither opulent nor tropical in the least, this composition is closer to BALMAIN than it is to FRACAS: dry, crisp, and clean.

20th August, 2011.

Fidji is womanly, exotic and evocative. The spicy, citrusy opening discloses immediately a refined bouquet of royal iris and sophisticated jasmine-rose duet. The spices embrace the bouquet and draw it towards a musky, ambery base with the woody texture of sandalwood and the bold, earthy touch of patchouli. The outcome is boise', a bit rooty and lightly floral. The sillage is discreet.

17th March, 2011. (Last Edited: 25th September, 2011.)

If you want to play with Fidji, you can not piddle around. Go straight to vintage parfum or EDC. Even vintage EDT is good, but modern EDT is a waste.

I think this bubbled up to my top three favorite, because I find myself wearing it three times a week. I'm lucky to wear one of my scents three times a month. I have two full vintage EDC bottles, so can happily coast along for a while.

There really isn't much to say about this besides 'it's one of the best perfumes ever made'. I love Sandalwood, and a green floral with sandalwood makes me melt.

I won't go on any further, however, since the vintage bottles are hard to come by.

23rd January, 2011.

I've had a nice little bottle of vintage Fidji in my collection for a while now. I got it a while back after reading all of the glowing reviews about it and felt thet I needed to have it in my collection of vintages. Today I decided to wear it after not reaching for it in a while, and I have to say that Doctor Mod hit the nail on the head in her review. It's nicc, but icy cold and inaccessible...just like Grace Kelly's image. I would expect a perfume called Fidgi to be much warmer and evocative of tropical ease and sensuality. This is too Upper East side for me.

21st January, 2011.

I first became aware of the significance of perfume (on some adolescent level) in the late 1960s. I recently set about discovering (or rediscovering) the iconic fragrances of the period, hoping to catch a bit of the decade's élan vital that I remember with so much fondness. Perhaps I didn't quite arrive at it, though I remembered something curious that I'm yet at odds to explain.

I have read all these glowing reviews of Fidji, and find that after testing it three times, I just can't see (or smell) what others do. The notes would suggest something energizing and sparkling, but on my skin it's a bitter green floral--cold and aloof. Strange to say, I find the same bitter quality in a number of sixties haute couture fragrances, particularly some Diors, Givenchys, Carons, and Guerlains--and, when I search my memory, I can recall sniffing a number of bitter scents in the trendier department stores back then.

I don't know exactly why this was the case, although I suspect it was something I'd call the "Grace Kelly effect"--the somewhat haughty, glamourous woman whose aura said "gaze in admiration but do not touch." Such was the iconic image of chic sophistication in those days. Meanwhile, child of the sixties that I was, I went for the warm patchouli-based floral orientals. Years later, I've learned to appreciate the more "mature" scents of the past, undoubtedly as the result of age and experience. Even so, scents like Fidji still leave me cold--a sharp, bitter floral with a certain sophistication but nonetheless cold as ice, not warm and sunny like tropical Fiji (or, if you will, Fidji).

9th September, 2010.