Virgilio (1990)
by Diptyque

I now know that I should avoid any frags consisting of kitchen herbs – I find they go weird on my skin within minutes (e.g. Little Italy). However, Virgilio makes things even worse by smelling pungent and extremely herbal (in a very '80s sort of way).

Yuck!

[Original submission date: 10 April 2008]

Diptyque is an odd fragrance house for me. Some of their scents (Philosykos, Tam Dao) have a wonderful, deep richness about them that is very pleasant without being too conventional. Then, others (L'autre, Virgilio) are harsh to the point of being downright unpleasant. Whereas L'autre smells like an unwashed Indian Spice shop owner, Virgilio takes the Green element and multiplies it times 1000.

Unlike Vetiver Extraordinaire, a very green scent which I love, Virgilio adds a sharp soapiness where the VE adds woods. So, instead of getting something warm, I get something oddly clean mixed with the green. It's hard to describe, but not terribly pleasant.

I wouldn't ever recommend Diptyque as a blind buy. Philosykos is wonderful, as is Tam Dao, as are a few others, but there are definitely some sour stinkers hidden in there, too. Caveat Emptor!

Virgilio breeds either adamant supporters or indignant detractors, with few responses in between. I fall in the former camp, and hold Virgilio alongside Eau Lente as one of my favorites from this house. In fact, it's one of my favorites among green fragrances.

The first thing I notice in Virgilio is a very fresh cut grass note, with just a touch of sharp citrus and a subdued floral note. It's a vibrant, verdant opening that evokes a moist early spring breeze.

The citrus note grows stronger and sharper as it goes, until it threatens to overwhelm the scent completely. Just before it can, honey, hay, and a minty-sweet basil note move in and blend into a refreshing sweet herbal heart. The heart accord is familiar and evocative to me, but I can't easily pin down the associations. Could it be chervil in a garden? Or perhaps a blend of parsley and tarragon? At any rate, the accord is potent and naturalistic. Once it settles in it continues without much more development, as do so many Diptyque fragrances. When the drydown arrives it presents soft honey and woods that persist for a few hours. A great scent if you can live with honey, hay, and mint.

I find Virgilio to be more of a hay-like scent rather than “green.” Admittedly there is a very green opening, like freshly cut grass. Then some lovely, fresh and attractive herbal notes emerge. What comes to dominate is what I think is a tarragon note which accounts for the hay-like quality. There may be light thyme and sage here, the basil is rather low-key in my opinion. I don’t get any cedar. This reminds me of Bronnley’s English Fern, but it is better. Not so sweet, and without the irritating almond nut aspect. But both have a strong and somewhat sweet hay character which is distinctive and is probably an acquired taste. In Virgilio, the hay burns off eventually and one is left with a pleasant pastoral scent. I like it, but I like Eau Trois better.

In my attempt to round out my fragrance wardrobe, I needed to add an herbal and a green potion. Virgillio perfectly fills both needs. Quite bold and wonderful with its full on Mediterranean ingredients, I find it to be the perfect summer in Provence fantasy frag. I wear it when I feel the need to be uplifted. Is it for work or weekends? If you have to ask, don't even bother!

I have to say that Virgilio is green—excessively green. The opening is too green, but it quickly settles down to something just bearably green. As in most Diptyques, this fragrance is primarily linear, which is a quality I usually like about their fragrances, but not with this one. The basil and cedar lead the rest of the herbs through the three levels of the pyramid, and, sure, there is sage note here, a vetiver note there, a wood note around the corner—but basically everything is basil and cedar GREEN. I usually think of ‘green’ and ‘fresh’ as belonging together, but not with Virgilio—it is so oppressively green that I find it ponderous and heavy—far removed from ‘fresh.’ I readily admit my prejudice—green is not my favorite category, but there are green scents that I love (Sander for Man, Eau de Campagne by Sisily, Gucci Nobile) and many others that I have respect for. But this one is just too green for me.