Venice Rococo

WOW. THIS is beautiful..rose, powdery, violets ... My first thought in the opening was , this smells vintage!:... It smelled like something from my grandmother's boudoir table.. Tangee lipstick, a poofy dusting from her gold box of Angel Face powder, with a spritz of scent.... My grandmother was no knit & crochet grandmother..she was a 1920's flapper, who didn't teach me to embroider..she taught me how to play cards and smoke cigarettes, when my mother wasn't looking. My Gran was as original as this perfume! A former wild child dancing in the speakeasy, she kept that bad girl vibe as she aged. For a moment, I was transported back there.... BUT then the perfume began to change... The heart is sophisticated, powdery, rich, GORGEOUS. THIS powdery scent isn't dry, it's thick, full bodied...grown up. And VERY original, in these times where everything smells like fruit, smells like an ocean or smells like oud.. The drydown down is rosy, warm amber ..with something slightly animalic. SEXY. The performance is good, not spectacular, but this smells SO good, SO original, honestly? I don't care. I will have this perfume.. And maybe hit the club, and dance my socks off-- like my Gran did when she was off making trouble, in her heyday.✨

Magnetic and head spinning! The most powdery powder perfume I’ve encountered. Teint de Neige is similar albeit sweeter, creamier. Venice Rococo comes close to my idea of vintage face powders, ruffles and feathers, and the scent of a cosmetic/violetty/pretty perfume emanating from a generous cleavage. It could be backstage at the Moulin Rouge, in the bedroom of a 50’s starlet, and even at the lab of a cosmetic genius circa the early 20’s. I can sense a reference to the idea of Vanderbilt, L’Heure Bleue, Caron cosmetics and maybe lipstick. While I don’t find it animalic, there’s a naughty bit that makes it feel not clean but lived in. I find it comforting, piercing, sometimes strident, always beautiful. If YSL Paris fell inside a huge vat of Teint de Neige, and Dove soap was used to wash the mess, it could approximate the scent of Venice Rococo. Freshly washed, both gals hairspray to an inch of their lives, play with a white cat called Azurra, eat a violet bonbon and spray perfume lavishly, Ombre Rose maybe, with a dash of Youth Dew underneath for a fiery jolt. That’s the idea I can get along with! I absolutely love it! Sillage and longevity are off the charts. From 2024, this/Epona/Un Bel Amour d’Été are the top releases.

Rose frolicking between sharp and soft, aldehydes and after bath powder straight from a deteriorating vintage pouf, coating the air in fine particles of light-catching talc laced with just enough arsenic to portend doom. The concept of antique and relic made olfactory, reeking of a not-literal but certainly foreshadowed death. Morbid delights of wearing a long-deceased relative's vanity trove, knowing nothing within the ornate bygone-devotion-to-glamour compact is currently considered safe for applying to skin, and not really caring much for the caution this should provoke. Dabbing behind the ears a bombshell rose parfum that's evaporated into practical agar from an etched crystal flacon. There is almost a costume facet to this scent, as if adding it to an ensemble could age it up, lending undue provenance to a replica vintage dress. In that way it can be considered a faux finish one might brew up at home, staining new lace with tea bags to give the appearance of age and just a touch of neglect: an instant and no-stakes haunting. The ultimate Miss Havisham cosplay scent. It's powerful and projects, which is to be expected both from the house of Arquiste and the nose of Flores-Roux.

I keep telling myself I dislike powdery notes, especially those that veer baby-wipeish - it was my main gripe with Comete. I don't have much nostalgia for my nappy-changing days and I always loathed the hideously artificial powdery smell of (clean) disposable nappies, while talc type smells just makes me think of dirty hair. However, I love this perfume, and keep thinking about it. It occurs to me that I also enjoy the touch of powder notes in several perfumes I know or own, like Blousy, Dior Homme Intense, Confetto. Not sure what makes it ok in some cases, not in others, but Venice Rococo is so charming even though it's also definitely baby-wipe-adjacent. What the reviewers say below matches my experience very closely. I like the sharpness of the rose-musk edge, and adore the civet or whatever in the base. The pink bubble of the bottle is adorable too, and the name is genius: who doesn't love eighteenth-century Venice? And Rococo, the overlooked, unserious younger cousin of Baroque, is very much My Thing. This would be fabulous on a man, an olfactory powdered wig and lace hankie

After an endless search for a perfume that truly makes me fall in love, Venice Rococo was a revelation. The opening is quite strong, but from the very first spray it is beautiful rather than challenging. A luminous blend of roses, violet, iris, orange and soft powder creates an impression that feels elegant, romantic and effortlessly feminine. What I love most is the harmony. I can detect the individual notes, yet none of them dominates or becomes annoying. The rose is refined, the violet adds charm without turning overly sweet, the iris brings sophistication, and the orange provides just enough brightness to keep everything radiant. Unlike many fragrances that impress initially and then lose their magic, Venice Rococo simply becomes softer and more intimate as it wears. The character remains the same throughout, just closer to the skin. On me, the longevity is excellent—I could still smell it the next morning. This is one of those rare perfumes that keeps drawing my nose back to my wrist. Romantic, polished, and utterly beautiful.