Picked this one up the other day.
For 1955, this is absolutely amazing. For 2010, it's . . . absolutely amazing.
I always have to laugh whenever I try one of these old fragrances and find it to be a million times better than anything released this year, or last year, or the year before last year. It's as if a company came up with a brilliant product, mass produced it, and was then forgotten. Scratch that, it's not as if that happened, it's exactly what happened with Pino Silvestre. What's less funny is that crap like Cool Water Ice Fresh gets way more play than something with dignified masculinity and beautiful execution. When it comes to that, the year of production doesn't matter as much as the public's irking preferences.
Pino Silvestre does something on my skin that no other fragrance has ever done - it goes from being weak at the outset, to very strong in the drydown. At first I get a fresh, airy burst of lemon-juice citrus with a semi-sweet lilt of spiced honey. It's very minimalist and soft-smelling, which gives the initial impression of being a once-great eau de toilette, now watered-down in an abysmal reformulation that took place sometime in the last fifty years. It's nice, evanescent, utterly forgettable, and ultimately regrettable.
This impression passes after fifteen minutes. Steadily, the citrus evaporates, and the spiced honey accord crescendos into a full-on woods note, now with strong green underpinnings. Another fifteen minutes, and you have the green erupting through the wood as a salient and surprisingly realistic pine. The wood never completely fades, but wafts in and out of the base, lending the whole scent a congruence that conjures fresh pine needles, and bitter pine cones, with the barest hint of sweet sap.
I don't know if Pino Silvestre Original (as it is called on the box now) has ever been considered by Luca Turin or Chandler Burr, but if it has, it was very likely dismissed as being a simple comfort scent for men of a long-bygone era. Then again, perhaps one or both of them find it to be quite charming in its own right - either judgment is an apt one. Pino is indeed a comforting smell, very fresh and natural, surprisingly complex, and certainly not contemporary. But it isn't outdated, and as a concept is a work of genius.
Here you have an Italian company that produces a fragrance based on the essential oil of pine needles. Readily available, the production is not expensive, and so the beauty of natural pine can be had in a 4 ounce bottle for no more than $25. The bottle itself is a little work of art, with its green glass shaped as a pine cone. If I had anything to say about it, and in the interest of total uniformity, I'd switch out the plastic atomizer for a glass one, and tack another $15 to the price. Frankly, the scent is good enough to drop $40 on a bottle, no problem. The box is pretty basic, and I'm not entirely sure there needs to be that much green, but overall the effect is fun, a little tacky, with all the goodness of retro, and none of the bad.
I would say this is great for autumn and early winter weather, around the time when days start hovering around 30° and wood fires and hot cocoa are routine. Pino will never be a daily fragrance for me, as I would rather wear other things, but it's perfect for a few weeks right around Christmas, and makes a terrific holiday transition scent from the dirtier pine of autumn's Yatagan, to January's allspice masterpiece, Allure Homme. See, you gotta phase these things together just right!
If you haven't tried Pino, I highly recommend it. Two more thumbs up.
....
For 1955, this is absolutely amazing. For 2010, it's . . . absolutely amazing.
I always have to laugh whenever I try one of these old fragrances and find it to be a million times better than anything released this year, or last year, or the year before last year. It's as if a company came up with a brilliant product, mass produced it, and was then forgotten. Scratch that, it's not as if that happened, it's exactly what happened with Pino Silvestre. What's less funny is that crap like Cool Water Ice Fresh gets way more play than something with dignified masculinity and beautiful execution. When it comes to that, the year of production doesn't matter as much as the public's irking preferences.
Pino Silvestre does something on my skin that no other fragrance has ever done - it goes from being weak at the outset, to very strong in the drydown. At first I get a fresh, airy burst of lemon-juice citrus with a semi-sweet lilt of spiced honey. It's very minimalist and soft-smelling, which gives the initial impression of being a once-great eau de toilette, now watered-down in an abysmal reformulation that took place sometime in the last fifty years. It's nice, evanescent, utterly forgettable, and ultimately regrettable.
This impression passes after fifteen minutes. Steadily, the citrus evaporates, and the spiced honey accord crescendos into a full-on woods note, now with strong green underpinnings. Another fifteen minutes, and you have the green erupting through the wood as a salient and surprisingly realistic pine. The wood never completely fades, but wafts in and out of the base, lending the whole scent a congruence that conjures fresh pine needles, and bitter pine cones, with the barest hint of sweet sap.
I don't know if Pino Silvestre Original (as it is called on the box now) has ever been considered by Luca Turin or Chandler Burr, but if it has, it was very likely dismissed as being a simple comfort scent for men of a long-bygone era. Then again, perhaps one or both of them find it to be quite charming in its own right - either judgment is an apt one. Pino is indeed a comforting smell, very fresh and natural, surprisingly complex, and certainly not contemporary. But it isn't outdated, and as a concept is a work of genius.
Here you have an Italian company that produces a fragrance based on the essential oil of pine needles. Readily available, the production is not expensive, and so the beauty of natural pine can be had in a 4 ounce bottle for no more than $25. The bottle itself is a little work of art, with its green glass shaped as a pine cone. If I had anything to say about it, and in the interest of total uniformity, I'd switch out the plastic atomizer for a glass one, and tack another $15 to the price. Frankly, the scent is good enough to drop $40 on a bottle, no problem. The box is pretty basic, and I'm not entirely sure there needs to be that much green, but overall the effect is fun, a little tacky, with all the goodness of retro, and none of the bad.
I would say this is great for autumn and early winter weather, around the time when days start hovering around 30° and wood fires and hot cocoa are routine. Pino will never be a daily fragrance for me, as I would rather wear other things, but it's perfect for a few weeks right around Christmas, and makes a terrific holiday transition scent from the dirtier pine of autumn's Yatagan, to January's allspice masterpiece, Allure Homme. See, you gotta phase these things together just right!
If you haven't tried Pino, I highly recommend it. Two more thumbs up.
....
