Another perfume that heavily features SMN's signature mix of soapy, musky, powdery clove and orange, this time paired up with cinnamon-dusted damascene plum (that pleasant red fruity smell that's often sold as pomegranate).
The end result is very old-fashioned: almost barbershoppy (but too feminine), almost like potpourri (but too powdery), and almost like a powdery chypre perfume (but not floral enough). It's a powder bomb, the kind of loud scent that perfume-haters really hate, but with careful application, it smells soapy and clean and spicy and wonderful.
I've been hearing about this fragrance line for a long time on Basenotes. I sampled this fragrance in Vail, Colorado and I love it. It's a very green scent. The lasting power is amazing. I'll be buying a bottle soon.
Since I don't love CHANEL No. 22, I really don't love this. Melograno is like an aldehyde-free, slightly sweeter version of the CHANEL, and therefore holds zero allure for me. If, however, you'd enjoy a less brittle and nose-tickling version of 22, here it is!
Maybe if I smelled this on a male, it would seem more enticing or interesting, but as a female scent, I find it sorely lacking in originality. It's slightly sweet, a bit fruity, highly powdered, and all done up in a squeaky clean fashion. There is a tiny bit of something underneath it all (opoponox?) that gives it a sort of cherry-ish muskiness, but I don't find this intriguing enough to save Melograno from mediocrity.
Melograno (Pomegranate) is by far and away the bestselling fragrance in the Santa Maria Novella line-up, a fact that surprises me every time I smell it. It's not so much that it's an odd fragrance (although it is) but that it's extremely hard to pin down.
If you read the reviews for Melograno, you will see that it seems to be a different fragrance from one wearer to the next to some, it is a green chypre along the lines of Givenchy III, to others it is the edgier twin of the grandest aldehydic monster ever created, Chanel No. 22, and to yet others, it is nothing more than detergent soap made into a fragrance. The one thing that everybody agrees upon is that it doesn't smell like pomegranates.
Perhaps Melograno is successful because it is so dependent on the individual skin chemistry and scent memories of each wearer, and is therefore the olfactory equivalent of a mood ring. Mood rings were popular for a reason we all like to feel that the end result is reflective of our individual personalities and chemistry. In that case, Melograno is the ultimate bespoke fragrance it smells like a mixture of scent, your skin, and a complex bundle of memories and mind associations that are purely your own.
For what it's worth, to me it smells like a mixture of aldehydes, green flowers, luxury soap, and church incense, with a faint but stirring note of urinal puck running through the base. Why this odd mish mash of elements should work is beyond me, but without doubt, the end result is resolutely appealing. What it will smell on you, and whether you'll like it, is anyone's guess.
Melograno opens up with the most bizarre mix of candied fruit, sweet florals and aldehydes you could imagine. Or maybe, then again, you can't. I prefer distinctive fragrances, but these top notes leave me absolutely baffled.
Left to develop, it's still freakish: a clashing mess of sweet fruit and harsh aldehydes that make no apparent sense together. It also smells aggressively synthetic, whether its ingredients are or not.