Friday, March 09, 2007

Acqua Di Parma, men's stuff part five


For Christmas 2006, my wife gave me a new cologne, Acqua Di Parma. I had run across some references to it during hobby reading, and I was curious.

Acqua Di Parma is an Italian citrus based scent first made in 1916. After many years of being relegated to an isolated niche product, the fragrance was purchased in 1994 by three investors. The new owners then expanded distribution to reach the eager dollars of the Hoi Polloi. The company claims it was “THE” cologne among the beautiful people in the 30s and 50s, and drops the names of Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn. (Of course the fact that they’re both dead makes corroboration difficult at best.)

For my part, I’ve taken a fancy to it. It’s more declarative than my beloved Trumper’s Extract of Lime, but to its credit it does tastefully dissipate when properly applied. I’ve worn it for the month of January and I haven’t tired of it.

The package paper describes it as combining more than ten natural ingredients (no knock-off lab synthetics) to produce "smooth notes of Sicilian citrus, rose, & lavender with base notes of oriental woods." And to its credit, it's not boring like say the traditional (and overly known) prep scent of Eau Sauvage. It's definitely something different and has the flair Italian craftsmanship is known for.

If you’re looking for an alternative, I would recommend giving Acqua Di Parma a try.

The only caveat I’ve had is that it came in a spray bottle, and hence impractical for air travel with the new security limitations on liquids. If you pack it in your wet pack with your checked luggage, the altitude may affect the spray pump. I’ll have to see what is available in plain bottle format for future use.

JP

(For related subject matter see September 16, 2006 entry, “On Wet Shaving, men’s stuff part two.)

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

If it was popular in the 30s and 50s, what happened to the 40s?

John E. Pacheco said...

The little temper tantrum Germany threw in the 40’s imposed on everybody’s life.

Presumably nobody cared what they smelled like as they stormed the beaches at Normandy.