I've been wearing this novel all day today
Couldn't understand why memories of my Grandfather popped into my view all day.
Now I know.
Peety, for me, is most similar to the signature fragrance of this my biggest hero.
Peety is the Old Spice of the 50's, 60's, brought into the 21st.
As ClairV has indicated, in parts it draws on some elements used in Tauer's work and just as quickly draws back to the oily fruit of the olive.
Peety will be soon purchased, for my wardrobe, as it's perfume reminds me of all the wonderful qualities of this most admired man, my Grandfather.
Honesty, Integrity, Sexiness, Masculinity.
Pregoni again, presents an extraordinary piece that has a Trademark, Innovative exploration and always a clean and tidy finish.
Honesty, Integrity, Sexiness, Masculinity.
17th October, 2015 (last edited: 31st October, 2015)
This fragrance famously comes 49ml to the bottle, with the final 1ml to be topped up using a drop or two of one’s own urine. I only had a small sample vial, though. I gave it my best shot, logistics not being my strong point and all, but there I was, crouched furtively over the small vial when the horrid thought occurred to me: WHAT IF THE PERSON WHO GAVE ME THE SAMPLE ALREADY PEED IN IT?
I thought quickly – who had given me the sample? Ah, that’s right – Colin Maillard. So off I waddled to my computer, my panties around my knees, and past the living room, where my husband looked up from his newspaper and called out mildly, “Everything alright, dear?”
Colin had not, it turns out, adulterated the sample. I was free to pee. But in the end, I chose not to. I’d like to say it was logistics, but really, I am a wuss.
So what does Peety smell like?
Surprising (to me). I don’t know why but I had expected something comforting and stodgy, like a piece of marmalade pudding with custard on a cold day. It’s something about the listed notes that made me think that – tobacco, tonka, honey, oranges. I had been imagining Tobacco Vanille mixed with a little bit of Absolue Pour Le Soir and rounded off with a touch of Feve Delicieuse (or Pure Havane).
No such thing – this is the opposite of comfort. This is startling. Uncomfortable even. In a good, on-the-edge-of-your-seat way.
The first whiff corresponded with the notions of tobacco comfort I’d nurtured: a deep waft of whiskey and tobacco and even hay, and there I was with a grin on my face and getting ready to sit back and enjoy the ride.
But then in rode this wave of licorice-like herbs and citrus fruits, all drenched in this dark, bitter honey with a deep piss-like nuance to it. Bitter oranges and lemons might indeed explain some of the sharpness, but here the citrus is not fresh. It smells like a cross between a bunch of dried herbs and a lemon, like lemongrass or singed lime peel. The herb-citrus mélange covers the fragrance with a deep medicinal gloom that seems almost black to me, like viewing a pile of luridly-hued fruits under a thick brown preserving glaze in a museum bell jar.
The sharp atmosphere that this almost toxic stew of pissy-honey, civet, medicinal clove, herbs, and preserved lemons creates forms the central character of Peety – and it never quite leaves. But that is what is fascinating to me. It reminds me of something caustic you’d use to lance a boil or dress a war wound.
Actually, this sort of barbershoppy, herb-strewn, musky character is something I associate with a certain style in Italian perfumery. I have experienced the same herbs-and-citrus-on-steroids openings in many of the other O’Driu’s, including Eva Kant, and in Bogue’s Maai and Ker. There is a sort of hyper-masculine, but self-conscious retro barbershop style at play here, as if these perfumers are trying to re-imagine the traditional Italian barbershops and apothecaries they might remember from their childhood.
The style is specifically Italian to me, and although I didn’t grow up in Italy, I did live there, and I recognize the atmosphere of those old, dusty places where traditional healing remedies, tisanes, and unguents sit right next to little white boxes full of Swiss-precise modern medicines. The whole of Italy is kind of like that; this weird and charming mix of traditional superstition and ultra-modern moral mores. So when I say that parts of Peety remind me of those Ricola honey-anise throat pastilles you see at every cash register in Italy, I don’t mean that it literally smells like that but that there is a memory association there for me.
Later on, a musky tobacco accord emerges, rich and glowing. The end result, on my skin anyway, is a sort of “old leather” aroma redolent with male musk and warm, stubbly cheeks (the type on a man’s face, one hastens to add). The aura of rich male skin and musk is bolstered by a warm, almost sick-smelling castoreum, and while there is never sweetness, there is a feeling of sharp edges being rounded off and sanded down – a sleepy warmth.
Funnily enough, it is only in the very later stages, when the bitter herbs and spices have banked down a bit, that I can smell the flowers – a rose and jasmine combination that smells both sultry and medicinal. Joined with the cozy ambroxan or amber-cashmere material in the background, there is an effect there that is quite similar to Andy Tauer’s Le Maroc Pour Elle (although this is not as sweet). The dry, papery (and hyper-masculine-smelling) tobacco accord in the dry-down is a real delight. It is not fruity or sweet like other tobaccos – this is dry and leathery. Persistence is extraordinary – I could smell this on my face cloth for four days afterwards.
A fascinating experience, this perfume, and just one of those things you feel richer for having experienced. Very few moments of wide-eyed delight come about for me these days, so hats off to Angelo Pregoni for Peety.
A casual glance at the reviews available will reveal that Peety opens with a volley of ripe, rich notes – a plethora of dry floral notes, bitter citruses and herbal notes, pungent resins, smoke, darkness, beeswax.
The overall impression once the notes begin to blend is of an old wooden floor, impregnated with the dirt and polish of decades and reeking of dried urine – this last piercing, salty and cloyingly honeyed.
Fortunately, this is a transitioning phase before the true heart of this fragrance is revealed – a wild animal prowls here, one feels its hot breath and feral tang marking out its territory among the strong citrus inflected herbs and the piss-and-honey tobacco. A curious duality of plant accents – both dried out and alive – tricks the nose. The florals exist in their fatty, essential oils incarnations rather than as the airborne notes we are more used to.
I didn’t customize my sample; I feel the composition has quite enough pee of its own. I’m undecided about Peety – it gives me a strong sense of ‘trying too hard’ and I feel I have to justify what I am smelling. The aura of this perfume is complex and rich, but up close the ranker elements just fail to convince.
Peety gets rounder and sweeter in the late drydown sharing a family resemblance with some of the spicier Tauers.
This was quite nice before personalisation by urine, as directed. Thereafter, perhaps owing to the predominance of asparagus in my diet at this time of year, it smelled like the gents toilets in Soho Square.
In for a penny, in for a pound: I decided to personalise further, by defecating in the bottle. I found the aperture inconveniently small for this purpose. I adopted a 'plug and extrude' approach, which needed some considerable subsequent clean-up.
The result: Not as bad as Cool Water, but not good.
Slightly deceptive, Peety starts out on what appears to be a new path for O’Driu but then switches direction, heading instead toward more familiar aromatic territory.
The initial application reminded me a little of L’Ombre Fauve’s patchouli muskiness placed over a series of balmy notes. Initially absent was the standard aromatic blast of herbs that dominate many of the scents from this line, replaced instead with a warm and inviting coumarin kind of feel—not quite vanilla, but sweeter than tonka or benzoin. And then as if from out of nowhere, hot spicy notes and herbal flourishes come striding in positioning Peety as back in familiar territory.
While the herbs and spices start to take over, it retains some of its warmth, creating a bit of a juxtaposition. I picked up on some candied citrus upfront that reminded me a little of Bohemian Black’s herbal limoncello opening in which culinary spices and candied lemons converge. The spices are sharper and more “pink” here than in the Matriarch—more of a combination of clove, cinnamon, and pepper with a slightly sweaty cardamom lurking around as well. Subtle minty facets pop up, but I think this is perhaps residue from one of the floral notes. Once the scent has reoriented itself on this more traditional O’Driu aromatic path, it stays fairly linear and consistent throughout, wearing as quite cooling given the hot nature of some of the spices.
I’ve smelled a lot of O’Driu perfumes, and this is really the first to embrace such amber-y characteristics, and it seems to work in the scents favor. While I’m personally a bit unsure about how successfully balmy notes function when placed against sharp, almost medicinal herbs, the scent stands out from the rest of the line. It’s still O’Driu—meaning that it’s kind of weird—but this one of the more accessible scents that I’ve smelled from the brand. Of course it’s no secret by now that you’re supposed to top this scent off, but I’ve opted to pass on this part of the process so that I can focus more intently on what’s already present. I think it’s a good scent overall—one of the better from the line, but a still a few notches away from something like Lalfeogrigio.