Come

To conclude my latest reviewing arc, at this point I can safely state that if we can consider Russian Adam the sultan of oud and musk, then Gardoni should be elevated to the status of master architect‐alchemist of herbals. In fact, Come represents Gardoni's “mad botanist” persona updated to 2025, yet in keeping with the supermassive (dark) green et sly animalic presence typical of Bogue: the house that never lets you forget nature always wins in the end. The opening is a surge of bitter greenery. Crushed stems, cade oil, metallic herbs, aromatic needles, all delivered with the quality that suggests he distilled half of it himself in a Milanese makeshift lab at 4 AM. Under this photosynthetic episode of controlled chaos lies an resinous warmth: pine pitch, sticky balsams, and moderately smoky labdanum giving the whole construction its neo-amber framework. As it develops, Come grows darker and more textured. After 3-4 hours, the green arch collapses into a wood-resin combination, full of embers and tarred woods. This is also when the fig, the tannic facet, and an animalic shading emerge. No dirtiness, no funk, just fibrous warmth that stretches into the nether. Performance is excellent: 10+ hours on skin, with a solid scent bubble in the first 5-6 hours. On target with what you should expect at this price point. Compared to the infernal spectacle of Tyrannosaurus Rex, Come is easily the most finessed member of that smoky-green-animalic family tree that arguably began with Bull’s Blood in 2012. The fire is moderated, the wildness is implied rather than confrontational, and the core's warmth gives it a contemporary meaning - without hitting the widely spread amberslop critical mass. In my view, Come breaks Gardoni’s vintage-tributing lineage with MEM and MAAI. By reengineering his most recognizable DNA, he’s created something that doesn't feel derivative, it is enjoyable and intelligently feral. Come is an expertly executed botanical climax: a scent that lives up to the double-entendre of its moniker by being both an arrival and a release of Antonio's creativity. Ben fatta!

Perfumer Antonio Gardoni says it best: “green is a matter of perception, not a definition”. His latest fragrance, COME – Italian for ‘how’ – I feel is his best. It gathers green in all its manifestations without being a sequential perfume: it does not have a linear dry down of discrete stages, but is a shifting whole revealed through multiple variations all at once. It begins amid the rare and unexpected – both the pretty and the vicious – and remains there. Its finest quality lies in the many hints and suggestions of green, drawn out by a perfumer who incants and summons – allowing us to peer into this tinted perspective. Green secrets. The densest wood with concealed grains of green, an iridescent petrol sheen that glints with its own unreal and hidden colour, and wild herbs at once friendly and sinister – like a sweet-smelling poison. The forgotten green of bergamot, the dark purple brink of a ripening fig, the oxidative murk of fermented tea leaves, milky timber pulp, and sap that moves from ooze to hard resin. It is never quite fixed, never quite one thing – always green in transition, either becoming or fading. And it is not merely smoke that threads through these folds, nor is it an undifferentiated shadow. More elusive still: it is a charcoal tempest, a dark haze, a dust cloud – a unique mass that becomes a veil, cloaking the greenery with soft density, darkening and modulating it with strange beauty both magnetic and unsettling. Nothing is urgent or hurried in COME. It slowly unravels, the veil lifting in shifting directions, like a stereoscope held to the nose. Scenes that appear plain at first become increasingly cryptic – traceable again and again, leading somewhere new every time.

Come opens with a tiger's growl of amber and civet, and some bright green sharpness. Then I get a ton of dry, green bergamot. Very raspy. Mediterranean or California coastal scrub vibes, like the tough shiny leaves of a scrub oak or citrus tree, with darker scratchy animalics and underbrush woods beneath. Gradually, it opens out into a breathy golden aura of amber and ylang-ylang, still a bit freshened with the dry green bergamot and hissy with animalics. It's a comfortable, relaxed ambiance, settling into pale yellow or beige. Lots of civet (which here smells elegant and perfumey; think fur-coat-and-champagne, not zoo) and accents of sharp, spiky bergamot. Completely dry, with the florals providing a plush softness but no sweetness. Honestly this beige-and-green swirl feels a lot like a fraction of other Gardoni fragrances -- 10 without the juicy fig leaf, for instance, or Mem without the lavender. But whatever it lacks in originality it makes up in beauty. I don't get the intense smokiness that some reviewers notice; on me it's more of a backdrop, part of the dark "underbrush" base. Antonio Gardoni might be my favorite living perfumer, because he works in a grand old-fashioned style, but pushes farther in the direction of "sharp and striking" than the classics ever did. All the retro lush florals and animalics, but energized with a very modern intensity, especially when it comes to incense (Lita, O/E, T. Rex), or sharp green notes (Maai, 10, Come). Come is kind of like "what if we did Bal a Versailles... but totally dry, and with a ton of green bergamot?"

COME really expands on the sweeter side of the smoky-florals Gardoni has explored previously, this time a lot more focus on the ylang and greenery (fig is especially obvious), with this slight camphorous edge. It's all wrapped up on this sweet labdanum-cade-patch bed. The whole thing nearly ends up in a candy territory for me, but with this plastic edge. Very alien just like the other top tier Bogue creations. I'm quite fond of this. Not sure a third bogue bottle will ever feel justified in my purposefully restrained collection but this does make every other smoky sample I have feel one-dimensional. It really avoids the predictability of the genre. Doesn't go for the fully scorched, indulgent industrialism of T-Rex or A City on Fire. It also completely skirts around the sweet resinous archetype of Interlude or Black Afghano and the likes. I very much see this becoming the most popular Bogue since this easier than Maai or MEM, especially for people coming over from the aforementioned niche masculine hypebeasts. Yet it does it without any compromise to the Bogue identity, it's easily a top 3 Gardoni scent. Just perfectly in the venn diagram of interesting, unique and wearable.

COME feels like walking through a forest that’s both alive and ancient, where every shade of green has its own voice. It starts dark and bright with bergamot, helichrysum and some dark green notes. Then the fig leaves arrive, thick and slightly bitter, mixing with black tea and a touch of civet that turns the air darker and more mysterious (it is not tha dark too) As it moves, the perfume gets warmer smoke, labdanum, and oud pull you deeper into its green shadows. There’s something animalic and resinous here, almost spiritual, like an old ritual happening quietly under the trees. Then it softens benzoin, ambery and honey melt into patchouli and vanilla, and that wild green becomes smoother, more human. The final part is gentle: Patchouli, woods, and tonka create a soft green glow that feels like nature breathing secretly. COME is not about beauty in a simple way. It’s about layers raw, alive, and constantly shifting. It’s the kind of perfume that reminds you nature isn’t peaceful; it’s powerful, unpredictable, and full of secrets.