Iranzol
Bruno Acampora (1975)

Iranzol is a perfectly-preserved time capsule of a time in perfumery when perfumers were free to use the stinkiest of floral absolutes, plant oils, and resins in their perfumes. Iranzol smells like the seventies, which makes perfect sense because it was launched in the seventies. What is extraordinary is that the formula seems to have remained unchanged since then; this is the perfume in its original form. In a day and age when brands reformulate every few years to keep up with IFRA recommendations, it is a small wonder that something like Iranzol can and does still exist.

The opening is as damply mushroomy as Acampora’s own Musc, brimming with wet soil, freshly-cut mushrooms, raw patchouli oil, and possibly some salty Italian kitchen herbs, like dried lavender and fennel root. There is definitely myrrh in the blend somewhere, helping those wet earth notes along.

Clove is also suspected, because there is an accord here that is half-claggy, half-dusty, like the sour, unwashed smell of sheets folded away while still damp. This accord is both medicinal (clean) and animalic (unwashed, dusty, stale), which, although not entirely pleasant to my nose, is effective at creating an atmosphere of gloomy, faded grandeur. One imagines a dusty chaise longue in an abandoned mansion by the sea somewhere.

The drydown diverges from the central accords found in Musc by finishing up in a dry amber and sandalwood base. It retains, as most of Acampora’s oils do, that brusque connection to the earthier, more aromatic smells of the seventies, when men wore either Jovan Musk or barbershop fougères and shaved with proper soap. In other words, the sandalwood is dry and astringent, and the amber vegetal. No cream, sugar, or butter anywhere in sight. You might have to adjust your television set when attempting Iranzol for the first time – it is neither modern nor easy. It is an anachronism, an earthy scent for those who like the pungent, untouched smells of nature and their fellow human beings.

The “mushroom” opening reminds me of some ouds, even if that's the musk mixed with jasmine indoles. Acampora says it's cruelty free, so it's animalic only impressionistically. In any case, the note list hardly prepares you for the scent, which stirs up vague memories of African cuisine sampled in my youth (alas, not in Africa). Intriguing on both a sensual and intellectual level, it's good but not nice, beautiful but not pretty. It's not the easiest wear, but I can imagine inventing excuses to wear it anyway. Sophisticated funk, this is.

Iranzol belongs firmly in the category of perfumes that you have to ‘get' – that is, it makes no concessions to mainstream impressions of smelling good (while smelling exceedingly good to my nose) or how perfumes should smell. Much is made of its animalic musks but even here it busts out of the mould – I can't think of a vintage ‘dirty' perfume that is remotely like it. So, voyager, you're out on the choppier reaches of the perfumed seas with this one – and if that's a fearful prospect, do stay at home.
Opening with the scent of spring-turning-to-summer undergrowth, Iranzol has that simultaneously, bitter green-dry-fatty quality of crushed weeds, with a mulchy mushroomy scent in the background. The tonal variation is great and yes, there are florals in there – jasmine giving the oily sheen to it, the sweet throb of rose – but they are so disguised in its rugged wilderness that they matter less. Indeed many of the mentioned notes (apart from the galbanum) seem to be in disguise – is that mushroom aura really the patchouli doing its thing? – and it doesn't matter in the least. Hints of sweaty cumin dart in and out of the broken foliage, the poisonous lactones of weed sap likewise, resins are dry and crumbly and go grrr, but in the background. Over time an impression of hay builds along with the muskiness, the wearer must provide the tumble. This is the scent of carnal nature expressing itself openly under the warming sun, it's ragged and addictive – and, most surprisingly, through composed rather than thrown together.
(Review is for the EdP.)

Big spice-bomb opening. Patchouli, spices, and resin hit me first. Big galbanum note. Jasmine and rose bounce around. Vanilla and amber do the same. The whole thing turns "green" after awhile, with the spiciness lurking underneath. I get something musky, almost animal-like.

This one is fairly unusual. It reminds me of the color Dark Brown for some reason. It is a combination of an Oriental and a Middle Eastern scent.

This broadly comes at me like a Feminine,Citric, Dry, Mossy Chypre. It has whispers of Fazzolari's Seyrig in the canvas.
I recognized the aromatic start of "Wild Mushrooms" Sauteed in Butter which acts much like (for me) Oakmoss in finish. The pulsating puffs of Hay and Spice are so very interesting and has me viewing this as more of a Masculine. Acampora offers strange and exciting lighting, to a Classic Chypre.
An easier wear than the Seyrig as it lacks the vague waxiness of Fazzolari's stirring creation.

The first time I tried Iranzol I was a bit put off by the famed (but unknown to me!) Acampora 'mushroom' opening - this seems to be a feature of these for some reason - it's a kind of musty smell that doesn't last.

But a while later I was hooked, and got a bottle (all of 10ml in a metal canister with a cork). I can't say what makes me love it so much, the notes described are all the good stuff:

Top notes: musk, sandalwood. Middle notes: jasmine, rose, amber, galbanum. Bottom notes: patchouli penang, vanilla

But there's more to it - it's very natural and quite sunny but not at all light or sharp. For me it has a depth and a lovely nose-crinkling saltiness (similar to Fleurs de Sel but more animalic and mixed up with jasmine) which makes it very grounding and somehow solid and personal. It has a timeless feel, nothing to do with fashion or trends but rather like rough hewn stone, perfect in proportion but without any fripperies. I couldn't put a gender on it, but it's definitely sensual. It's as far from the usual as you can get but isn't 'niche' or 'edgy'. It's very wearable.

I have the oil, and the only problem is it's really hard to get the dose right - I know Acampora now makes sprays also but the oil is so rich and true feeling that I'm not sure if the spray could live up to it. Also, the musty opening and the whole ceremonial oil thing adds to the experience. The dosage problem may be more obvious to people around me than to myself!