After spending yesterday with a fragrance that felt “hollow” by design, today I craved something richer and filled in. My Luckyscent sample of Jeroboam Gozo by perfumer Vanina Muracciole fit the bill, being an extrait de parfum. I love and have a bottle of the leathery, musky Jeroboam Vespero and was intrigued by this new offering in a bright orange bottle from the brand known for its “enigmatic musks.” Mostly I wanted to try it because of the listed notes that included saffron and tuberose.
On first sniff, Gozo presented a fruit juice concentrate; was it mango? Pineapple? It quickly revealed a woody background, which my other half instantly recognized as patchouli. I think I picked up more on the cedarwood. The saffron here is darker and drier than my saffron absolute—it has an almost roasted quality that serves as a bold outline, inside which the fruit-syrup notes saturate with lighter and brighter color. The full-bodied juiciness continues to flow, and the musks seem to create an effect of bringing out the natural sugars from the tropical fruits rather than making the composition milky.
The only listed “fruit” note is the citrus bergamot. The rest must be the alchemy between saffron, tuberose, geranium, and other notes—I cannot perceive these last two flowers on their own at all. As Gozo continues to warm on skin, it turns slightly salty, powdery, and more floral and woody. The violet leaf note adds greenness to counterbalance the dark orange colors that the general fragrance conveys to my mind.
I reapplied this extrait after a couple of hours to see if I could detect the raspberry note that others had mentioned. When I specifically smelled for it, I could; it was like a flavor in syrup or perhaps bubblegum. The note blended well with the saffron, though the mixture was plasticky, like cosmetics or patent leather. The initial dryness of the saffron prevents Gozo from becoming too sweet too soon. Instead, it lets the fruitier notes erode the outline that confines them into any shape, as though they were ripening over skin time.
My other half rendered his verdict at this phase as “patchouli-Poison,” referring to the jam-like characteristic of grape-tuberose powerhouse Christian Dior Poison (the grape note is listed as plum). I was impressed by his association because both of these perfumes feature tuberose prominently, although I couldn’t tell you that unaided at this stage of my acquaintance with how this floral note smells in perfumes.
Maybe it’s inception, but I do think the bold orange color of the bottle suits this perfume very well. In any case, it was a welcome olfactory antidote to the sub-freezing weather we’re having in New England.