Persolaise Review: Salvatore Ferragamo – Testa Di Moro (Fabrice Pellegrin; 2018) & Chanel – Antaeus (Jacques Polge; 1981)

If I ever have the pleasure of meeting Fabrice Pellegrin again, I’ll be sure to ask him if he’s a fan of Chanel Antaeus, because there’s more than a suggestion of the 80s masterpiece in his Testa Di Moro (part of Salvatore Ferragamo’s high-end Tuscan Creations range). But I’m getting head of myself.

Antaeus has long been one of my favourite perfumes. I didn’t wear it when it first emerged – even for me, that might have been a tad weird, considering I was under ten years old at the time – but as I grew older, I remember being drawn more and more powerfully to this strange, space-devouring, earth-rooted giant of a scent. I recall that, for some reason, I equated it with some North African women I knew, perhaps because it reminded me of the henna they used in their hair and on the soles of their feet. But I think it was more than just that. There was a certain grounded-ness with which these women walked – a decisive placement of one foot before the other, proclaiming that they were connected to the very fibre of the ground beneath their feet – which always called to my mind the sheer heft that was conveyed by Antaeus. Even now, after having worn the scent myself for many years, I can’t smell it without an image flashing into my mind of a large, uncompromising figure – swathed in bright fabric – walking away, calmly, step by step, queen of everything around her. 

Of course, since then, I have come to view the fragrance as one of the greatest masculines of the closing quarter of the twentieth century, if not of all time. It’s entirely appropriate that it’s named after a god-like figure, because Polge’s hand must surely have been guided by some benevolent deity when he was putting it together. Like Guerlain Habit Rouge, like Dior Homme, like Amouage Gold Man, it’s one of those rare examples of a perfume managing to encompass the very essence of masculinity, from the force of physical strength, to the fragility of a delicate emotional core. With its distinctive juxtaposition of sweet, animalic beeswax and bitter, castoreum-focussed leather – plus a whole load of herbs and spices thrown in for good measure – it is both intimate and bold, announcing its presence with tremendous diffusiveness, but also saving a few surprises for those it allows to get up close. 

However, it has to be said that it is also a touch dated. I write these words with great trepidation, because I don’t want them to dilute my very real love for the scent. Or to cause other people to stop wearing it. But I cannot deny that the brashness of its leathers, and the loudness with which it speaks, place Antaeus on the other side of the line that divides us from the 1980s.

That’s where Ferragamo Testa Di Moro comes in. I’d like to imagine that, while composing it, Fabrice Pellegerin sat down in his office, closed his eyes, and thought, ‘I wonder how I’d go about updating Antaeus for the twenty-first century.’ Because that’s precisely what he’s done. With his characteristic finesse and attention to detail, he’s taken a leather core – smokier and less bitter than Antaeus’ – and dressed it up with incense, spices and beeswax-y resins. He’s added the merest hint of oud-y notes. And most importantly, he’s turned down the volume control, resulting in a creation that is well-aware of its charm and power, but doesn’t feel the need to dominate the voices of all others around it. In short, he’s given us a modern classic, which I hope will break out of its limited distribution and find a wider audience. And even if he wasn’t consciously thinking about Antaeus while making it, I reckon maybe the same gods that took hold of Polge’s hand in the 80s paid Pellegrin a visit and decided to whisper scented persuasions in his ear, filling his head with myths, thunder, fury, passion and heart-breaking tenderness. 

[Review based on sample of Testa Di Moro eau de parfum provided by the brand in 2019 and Antaeus eau de toilette obtained by the author in 2009.]

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