Simone Andreoli
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The grapefruit and bergamot arrive with almost aggressive freshness, backed by that ozonic marine accord that immediately establishes the coastal mood. Petitgrain adds a slightly green, almost leafy undertone that suggests you're inhaling the sharp scent of crushed citrus leaves rather than the fruit itself. The lemon and mandarin play support roles, adding dimensionality without asserting themselves—they're there to prevent flatness, nothing more.
As the citruses fade, the artemisia and juniper berry CO2 gradually surface, and the fragrance's true character emerges: herbal, slightly mineral, distinctly cool. The mint doesn't taste sweet but instead feels sharp and almost medicated, like breathing in the scent of crushed mint leaves warmed by skin heat. The myrtle adds a subtle earthiness whilst the marine accords linger stubbornly, refusing to evaporate—the composition still carries that essential saltiness, as though the sea has soaked into the wood beneath.
The balsam fir and oakmoss absolute create a soft, almost moss-covered forest floor quality, whilst Indonesian patchouli (used sparingly here) adds only the faintest earthy warmth. Driftwood and suede provide the final whisper—a greyed-out, weathered quality that feels utterly natural, like the scent of sun-bleached wood and aged leather. The marine quality never quite disappears, creating a haunting conclusion where wood and salt seem to merge into a single, slightly mineral whisper against the skin.
Ocean of a Midnight Moon inhabits that liminal space between aquatic freshness and woody restraint—a fragrance that smells less like a perfume and more like the olfactory memory of standing on a rocky coastline at dusk. The opening assault is all citrus brightness: grapefruit and bergamot sparkle with ozonic clarity, whilst petitgrain adds a slightly green, almost herbal snap that prevents the composition from becoming merely another fresh fruity. But this isn't a cheerful daylight scent; the petitgrain carries an austere quality, and beneath it, marine accords lend an almost saline mineral quality—as though someone's dissolved sea salt into the juice itself.
What makes this fragrance compelling is how Simone Andreoli resists the temptation to let it remain a simple citrus-aquatic. The heart reveals Moroccan artemisia and juniper berry CO2—neither note is particularly warm or sweet, and together they create something almost medicinal, nearly herbal in character. The mint appears not as a candy-like freshness but as a cooling, slightly sharp presence that plays against the woody-green complexity emerging beneath. There's an almost briny quality here, as though the marine notes are being pulled deeper into the composition rather than fading away.
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3.5/5 (117)