I Tried Valentino’s Donna and Uomo Perfumes—Here’s My Surprising Favorite

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Valentino Beauty

What makes a fragrance hot? Addictive, sensual floral-gourmand notes? Spicy woods? Or perhaps the patron saints of effortlessly cool and hot, Dakota Johnson and Alexander Skarsgård, kissing in a steamy promotional video? Valentino’s latest olfactive story, Vendetta, marked by two scents—Donna (woman) and Uomo (man)—raises the question, or at least prompted some reflection for me.

I’ve never been particularly interested in smelling like what some people think a woman should smell like. I own more than 100 fragrances and counting, including powdery petals and juicy fruits, which I reach for when I want an uplifting jolt of tenderness. Elsewhere in my stash are the wild cards: woods, leather, smoke, spices, and ouds—notes that are usually filed under masculine, but that I’ve figured out how to make feel like me. Sometimes I cut the sharpness of a smoky musk or herbaceous woods with softer scents; other times, I boldly step out in a fragrance I’d likely want my handsome date to smell like. There’s a difference between wanting to smell masculine and wanting to borrow from masculinity. I exist firmly in the latter camp.

On a recent trip to L.A. with Valentino, my hotel room outfitted with both fragrances resting on the table in front of me, I saw a color first before ever taking a whiff: the dark, ruby red juice of Vendetta Donna, a floral-gourmand feminine fragrance, dancing in a clear bottle embossed with a large “V.” Red, to me, has long been a cultural, sartorial, and beauty signifier of confidence, romance, attractiveness, and desire. Rihanna ushered in a louder, bolder era when she shifted the pop scene with her crimson red hair; Johnny Gill’s seductive voice invited his lover to “slip on that red dress” in his seminal hit “My, My, My”; Taylor Swift is rarely seen without her signature red lip. It’s a color that embodies unabashed femininity, passion, and power.

Then came the spritz: Donna was alluring; its nectar accord softly brushed against my skin like the first press of a lover’s bottom lip; tuberose warmed the embrace and softened sandalwood’s woody edge.

Nerisha Penrose

Valentino’s Donna (left) and Uomo (right).

In Donna, there was no bite, just a deeply sensual magnetism, perhaps most accurately embodied by Johnson’s look in the campaign visuals: sultry, perfectly smudged eye makeup, a sexy red dress, and riding shotgun in a fast car with an equally hot man next to her. “Unstoppable passion,” the brand’s tagline reads.

Valentino Beauty

Valentino Beauty brand ambassadors Alexander Skarsgård and Dakota Johnson.

So I played the part. I slipped on a red dress. I lightly smudged black and brown eye shadow along my lash line to achieve a Johnson-like smolder. But there was my vendetta against fragrance rules. I thought: What if I reach for Uomo instead? I liked the tension of something traditionally masculine against a very feminine outfit: a hip-hugging dress, a full face of makeup, and glossy bare legs. I prefer a fragrance to complicate the fantasy rather than completing it exactly as expected. Vendetta Uomo felt like the perfect supporting character.

Opposite Donna in color with a light brown hue, Vendetta Uomo is just as sultry, but with a ginger carnality that offers a brighter opening before settling into a spicy, deeper cinnamon-liquor drydown. What I love most about Vendetta Uomo is that it isn’t trying too hard to be a “tough guy.” The absence of traditional masculine notes, like tobacco, leather, and musk, doesn’t make it weak; if anything, it gives the fragrance a more sophisticated, effervescent woody embrace.

The ginger lingered for a moment, but what ultimately caressed my skin that night—and my dress—were its crisp, spicier, almost peppery sting, comforting and thrilling at once. My body heat only warmed its woody base and transported me from L.A.’s bustling city streets to a corner booth in a dimly lit bar, just moments after taking that initial sip from a chilled glass of an old-fashioned.

For the girl in a leg-baring red minidress and towering heels, this fragrance didn’t make me feel any less feminine. It gave my femininity some edge. My walk got a little taller. My confidence got a little stronger. And I didn’t abandon Donna, either. On other days, I mix her with Uomo, letting her sweetness meet his spice. Because femininity was never the thing I had a vendetta against—it was the rules about how it was supposed to smell.