Iranzol (1975)
by Bruno Acampora

This broadly comes at me like a Feminine,Citric, Dry, Mossy Chypre. It has whispers of Fazzolari's Seyrig in the canvas.
I recognized the aromatic start of "Wild Mushrooms" Sauteed in Butter which acts much like (for me) Oakmoss in finish. The pulsating puffs of Hay and Spice are so very interesting and has me viewing this as more of a Masculine. Acampora offers strange and exciting lighting, to a Classic Chypre.
An easier wear than the Seyrig as it lacks the vague waxiness of Fazzolari's stirring creation.

The first time I tried Iranzol I was a bit put off by the famed (but unknown to me!) Acampora 'mushroom' opening - this seems to be a feature of these for some reason - it's a kind of musty smell that doesn't last.

But a while later I was hooked, and got a bottle (all of 10ml in a metal canister with a cork). I can't say what makes me love it so much, the notes described are all the good stuff:

Top notes: musk, sandalwood. Middle notes: jasmine, rose, amber, galbanum. Bottom notes: patchouli penang, vanilla

But there's more to it - it's very natural and quite sunny but not at all light or sharp. For me it has a depth and a lovely nose-crinkling saltiness (similar to Fleurs de Sel but more animalic and mixed up with jasmine) which makes it very grounding and somehow solid and personal. It has a timeless feel, nothing to do with fashion or trends but rather like rough hewn stone, perfect in proportion but without any fripperies. I couldn't put a gender on it, but it's definitely sensual. It's as far from the usual as you can get but isn't 'niche' or 'edgy'. It's very wearable.

I have the oil, and the only problem is it's really hard to get the dose right - I know Acampora now makes sprays also but the oil is so rich and true feeling that I'm not sure if the spray could live up to it. Also, the musty opening and the whole ceremonial oil thing adds to the experience. The dosage problem may be more obvious to people around me than to myself!

So, this was interesting. I'm still trying to explain to my brain what I felt in my soul. It was confusing. I talked with a fellow basenote member about this as well, and we both had a similar reaction - this scent is sorta eerie! I think there is something about the myrrh note that (at least for me) played with my mind to the point that I had lots of dark, creepy imagery running through my mind.

You need to understand this: I enjoy looking at decrepit buildings, half-sunken ships, derelict and abandoned factories - so spooky/creepy is typically not something I shy from, but instead have a strange push-pull fascination with - but this fragrance is the sort of creepy that makes you feel something is wrong - just off. Other-worldly. In some ways, that makes this scent incredibly fascinating and certainly it is a work of art, however, it's not wearable. That was truly hard to type - after all, this IS a perfume! But I really tried, and while I realize my nose and weird brain have likely combined to come up with some strange and bizarre pairing that won't be an issue for others, still, I felt compelled to report my experience.

Definitely going to explore others in this house!

If possible, I adore this fragrance even more than my beloved Acampora Musc (and that's saying something!). Iranzol smells slightly more "dirty" and heavy than the Musc which contains a tiny minty-clean note that makes it lift and disperse, while Iranzol remains deeply rooted in the earth. And this beautiful, resinous, hay-like scent only gets better as the hours go by. When I wear this, I feel like I am wandering through a gorgeous autumn afternoon way out in the countryside and have stopped long enough for an illicit tryst on the dirt floor of a dusty, hay-and-herb-filled barn. There's something incredibly sensuous about this fragrance, especially in the perfume oil version. It somehow smells both organic and animalic. I don't find it masculine in the least, although I would love to smell it on a guy!

Iranzol opens with a heavy, textured note of jasmin, rich and realistic, on a soft sweet base accord of vanilla, amber, resins and tonka, with hay notes, cedar-like woods, and "something" darker on the very under-base, which I do not get clearly – smells almost like castoreum to me, same ambiguous dense thickness, slightly sweet too (although I doubt it's that note). Bergamot and citrus notes to counter-balance this overall "austerity", ginger root, a rich and tasty fruity/spicy note which may be red pepper, and also a mossy-herbal vibe. The bone-structure is however that narcotic, dry jasmin accord on resins, musk and vanilla. A quite gloomy and nostalgic chypre, enigmatic in its own way, rich and overwhelming with a remarkable "lost times" feel, like Sballo. Then it slowly "blossoms" a powdery side, mellow and aromatic, with violet notes, some more soft woods and a talcum feel, which slightly reminds me of Feminité du Bois, only with a more cloudy, gloomy, musky and masculine twist – and more Mediterranean too, Acampora's true "heritage". This sort of wet, slightly cloudy feel is perhaps one the more interesting key features of this scent, there is this general, palpable but elusive and nondescript humid/windy almost "rural" accord with delivers a bold Mediterranean feel, just in a less predictable way – no spices, no bergamot, no beaches, rather a more countryside-aristocratic, slightly decaying but graceful melancholy and austerity. The drydown (which after a while gets a little cloying on my skin, to be honest) comprises dusty resins, a subtle "roasted caramel" feel, which then eventually ends with a gentle powdery/medicinal accord, much discreet and cozy.

7,5-8/10