Pure Man Bruno Banani

Bruno Banani Pure Man arrives as a fractured attempt at freshness—bright and discordant, like someone's scattered a spice rack across wet citrus. The aniseed opening is the fragrance's most distinctive moment, lending a peculiar liquorice-tinged sharpness to the bergamot and mandarin that follows. It's an unusual choice, this licorice-meets-citrus combination, and it works just enough to make you pause before dismissing it entirely. The composition then pivots toward woody warmth as cedar and sandalwood emerge, anchored by that sweet, resinous benzoin that smells faintly of boiled sweets left in the sun.

The jasmine here plays a strange role—not the heady, indolic florality you might expect, but rather a thin, wispy presence that fails to add roundness to the heart. Instead, there's a synthetic quality that becomes increasingly apparent as the citrus fades, a chemical sweetness that suggests more budget-conscious perfumery than masterful composition. The cyclamen adds a faint peppery dryness, but it's overwhelmed by that persistent amber-musk-sandalwood base that feels generic and slightly soapy.