Nox by Angela Ciampagna is an Extrait de Parfum released in 2015. I’ve always been drawn to the brand because of the beautiful bottles – the cap is inspired by the rose window of the Basilica Concattedrale di Santa Maria Assunta in Atri, Italy. Earlier this month I spoke with a representative of the brand at Esxence in Milan and was given a sample set.

I picked one fragrance at random to try, and Nox was the one that I happened to choose. The box containing the sample said Salt / Hinoki but other than that, I didn’t look at the notes in Nox before writing the review. Below is a quick guide to the fragrance; click the image to enlarge.

Nox by Angela Ciampagna

As I spray it – four sprays, two per forearm – a clean citrus hits my nose. Reaching in to get a sniff of my skin, it’s more woody but still with that clean smell to it, like you’ve just taken that soft orange dusting cloth to your dark mahogany furniture and applied citrus polish all over, buffing out the fingertips and the paw prints. It tickles my nose a bit: the can of polish said “Hold can upright and spray about 9 inches from the surface.” I seem to have sprayed from 5 and been hit by a recoil of fumes.

The spray seems to have settled after about ten minutes. It’s still citrus, but almost cloying – more like warm yuzu than fresh lemon, more warm and woody hinoki than sharp grapefruit or bergamot. There’s a slight headiness to it.

Sitting down relaxing on the sofa after all the housework is done: I’ve polished the cabinets in the hall; it’s time to sit for a moment and just let the smells of my efforts wander through the air for a while. The orange duster sits near the kettle as I make a cup of coffee.

Two hours have passed and there’s this salty undertone of seawater dried on your skin, but still with that citrus scent to it. It’s that very specific saline scent you get after being in the sea for hours then finally getting out and drying in the sun – no need to wipe off with a towel under that baking heat. You’re quickly eating a sandwich so you can get back to your snorkelling adventures: wishing you were a mermaid, following a shoal of fish around the beach longing to be one of them and never go back to shore or responsibility.

The beachy citrus is almost like lemon-scented sunblock. It’s like a lemon ice pop on the beach, it’s melting down my hand – dessert after my sandwich – mixing with the dried saltwater on my arms while I stare out at the rippling turquoise sea that catches the sunlight in stark white flashes. It’s that smell you get when your hair is all wet and it feels cold on your spine. The sun isn’t as high anymore – it’s a couple of hours until dusk. You’re enjoying the moment, you know you won’t be getting into the sea again because if you do you know you’ll never dry. Your bikini will stay wet, and even now you’re not sure it’ll actually dry in time for the drive home. And you’re not one of those people who brings a change of underwear to the beach and then does that weird change-behind-a-towel thing that always results in a slipped boob along the way.

So you just sit on your towel with your ice pop and water, maybe a beer, it’s about 6pm – sunset is at 8 – and you lean back and watch people go by, just enjoying the salty smell, the noises of people having fun, protective mothers shouting for their kids, the game of beach volley you’d love to join – but you’re too shy to introduce yourself so you just watch instead. It’s a pretty much perfect July evening on a Mediterranean beach and you can just relax.

It’s been five hours and the smells are fading, it’s as though the sea salt has become embedded into my skin, and it’s a part of me: it’s less perceptible but it’s still there. There’s still a bit of citrus, but there’s something else summery there – something that makes you feel like being on the beach without being a stereotypical summer note like coconut. The sun has gone down now, you’re enjoying a second beer, or maybe something more stereotypically refined like wine – out of a much less refined plastic cup since this is the beach, after all. Your friends are here, starting to gather up the coals to get the barbecue going.

There’s something distinctively dry about this fragrance though, but still very natural.

Six hours later, Nox is like sitting at home the day after spending a full day at the beach; you were too tired to shower when you got back home so you just quickly changed from your bikini into pyjamas and went to bed. In the morning you smell of dried salt from the sea, a hint of lemon from the sunscreen, a bit of driftwood even – some wooden bits and pieces you’d thrown into the barbecue. Not to keep it going or set it alight – you had plenty of coal and firestarters – but just for the pure pyromaniac fun of it. For the beautiful crackling sound of the wood, for something to look at and focus on while everyone around you chattered and laughed and you needed to calm your brain from the auditory overwhelm around you. And you brought all of those smells home and you slept in them.

After seven hours, the smell of Nox is gone and I’m brought back to reality.

You can buy Nox at Angela Ciampagna or other stockists

Difficulty Rating: 1/5