I met Antonio Alessandria at Esxence many years ago, and I cannot resist adding a picture of him to this post. He looked every inch the 19th-Century Puccini-grade dandy, as opposed to the modern striminzito hipster prevalent today in places like Milan.
Some geographical context is in order. Antonio lives and works in Catania, a superb, ramshackle city, midway down the eastern side of Sicily’s triangle.
Catania is no ordinary place, assuming any such exist on the island. It lives in the shadow of Etna, Italy’s Mount Fuji as looks go, except Etna is active, sends out a plume of smoke into the stratosphere every working day, covers your car in featherweight grey lapilli when it feels like it, and destroys 30-year-old vines down its slopes every thirty years. (Those who live on those slopes never give up.)
Sicilian cities are characters that have taken on roles in the island’s myths. Dignified Palermo is the bridge to Sicily’s Norman past, when the same tribe that eventually took over England first ended up rulers of a mixed Arab-Christian state. By contrast, the city of Catania is a riot, irresistibly depicted in Vitaliano Brancati’s books as a place of wild humor, hot winds, and general craziness blamed on said hot winds.
Alessandria’s fragrances are pretty much what you’d expect from the man and the place: vivid, huge, dramatic and old-fashioned. I love them. His firm has been going since 2014. He releases them at a reassuringly leisurely pace, less than one per year. In my conversations with him, it was clear that he was going for Ancien Régime perfumery, with lots of naturals, aromachemicals when needed, and no other purpose than to make a romantic-symphonic statement. And indeed his perfumes always remind me of Martucci’s sublime and little known music composed just across the water, in another part of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.
For paid subscribers: reviews of Gattopardo, RustyVibes, FÃ ra, Dies Aurorae and Amado Mio.