Eau d'Italie (2005)
by Eau d'Italie

There's something incredibly compelling and daring about any fragrance released by Eau D'Italie. Only a few niche brands had the courage to build such a strange line as this one. It's like they gave Bertrand Duchaufour the maximum freedom to experiment, to dare...What came out is a range of fragrances that strike as extremely bizarre and, sometimes, very hard to appreciate but, hey...this is one of the many meanings of niche.

Eau D'Italie is basically a green woody/citrus composition but, as all the other deliveries from this house, it has a twist. In this case Duchaufour introduces incense as a top note and a watery, sort of metallic, accord that brings to mind of Secretions Magnifique. Don't get me wrong, Eau D'Italie shares nothing with the infamous composition by Etat Libre D'Orange and it's by no means disgusting or even provocative but, at the same time, I can't deny that the aforementioned accord is just as weird. It has the same WTF effect.

That being said what really saves the eponimous fragrance by Eau D'Italie from precipice, is Duchaufour's ability to dose weirdness to never cross the border of pure experimentation and become pointless. Do I like Eau D'Italie? Not completely because in my opinion it still lacks some concreteness, but I definitely respect it (as well as the whole line) for being so pleasantly daring and artistically innovative.

9th January, 2012.

On my skin EAU D'ITALIE develops at a languid pace, offering up a slow burning frankincense that falls just shy of 'lemony'. There is a hint of lush greenery in the backdrop to lend some roundness to the dry incense but I wouldn't exactly describe it as 'herbal'. More like 'leafy' or 'sappy'. It chugs along quietly towards a base of clean cedary musk.

Granted it is not the kind of scent that polarizes opinions and attracts controversies. Some might even call it boring. I am more inclined to describe it as a pleasant smelling green incense fragrance with some issues in the projection department. But it seems perfect for that gentleman who is about to dip a toe into the mysterious depths of the fragrance universe.

25th June, 2011.

EdI is very unique. It's like a green-silver aura of earthy serenity with dancing, sunny yellow rays that follows you quietly and patiently all day. It needs humidity to blossom. Although the earthy middle notes may be similar to TdH there's no sign of that treasonous flint. While the sillage is not large, EdI remains tenacious and continually effusive. Moderno Italiano.

16th October, 2010.

Eau d’Italie’s eponymous scent begins life outside the bottle with an extremely odd accord of incense and dewy green notes that could stand as the perfect example an olfactory oxymoron. The balance that parfumeur Bertrand Duchaufour offers between wet and dry, warm and cool, is one of the more compellingly weird effects I can remember since I first smelled Serge Lutens’s Borneo 1834. The tension doesn’t hold for long, though. After a few minutes the green notes and incense meld at their edges, and the surprise result is a much milder, brighter, and more wearable variation on the heart of Duchaufour’s own Timbuktu. Eau d’Italie sustains its cool, green tinted, transparent incense quite well before it dries down to a brisk cedar dominated base. I can’t say that it projects much, but it’s paradoxically not weak either. Eau d’Italie just seems to hover close to the body.

Once it’s run its course I’m left feeling that Eau d’Italie represents a simpler and “safer” essay on the theme of Timbuktu and the more recent Dzongkha. It’s more approachable than either of these other Duchaufour compositions, but it also has a lot less going on. If I’m going to wear a scent of this sort, my inclination is to go whole hog, and for the like-minded I’d recommend Dzongkha or Timbuktu (even though I detest it!) over Eau d’Italie.

16th December, 2009.

Initially I thought I was smelling moist rolling tobacco but it quickly settled itself as oakmoss with a trace of bergamot. Two minutes in and we arrive at a more velvety Grey Flannel. Thirty minutes later and it turns quite soapy where it remains until it expires some five hours later.

Like Grey Flannel it feels grey/green but rather than damp it’s much wetter and never aggressive. In summing up wet cement powder with oakmoss and soap. Now whilst it may not great, and it isn’t, it’s not terrible either. I wouldn’t turn down a 10ml decant but it would take me a while to use it all.

12nd September, 2009. (Last Edited: 5th October, 2009.)

Well engineered (surprise, surprise!) gentle citrus-woody fragrance. Smooth, rich and subtle; if I would tell you a long story of developing notes and ingredients then I would be probably playing a bit foetidus, but I can say the perfumer (BD) has again in here proved to be some sort of master of accords: That “clay accord” is unmistakable, although I’m the first to admit I couldn’t possibly put my finger on it if I hadn’t seen the list of notes.


If the one is looking for an earthy little scent with nice fresh accents then this is considerable option.
It is extremely easy to wear anywhere anytime. Wears close to the skin a long time without huge sillage.


Nice, but little bit too quiet plus conservative for me and eventually very uninteresting too.

3rd March, 2009.