“HDP” stands for “Heerlijk De Peerlijk,” which tells you exactly how seriously HEMA takes itself and exactly why this one worked. Fugazzi, the Amsterdam niche house Bram Niessink started in 2018, doesn’t normally operate anywhere near this price bracket, but a hundredth anniversary calls for something everyone can actually buy. So it landed at thirty euros for thirty millilitres, a limited-edition Eau de Parfum, released in 2026, gone almost as fast as it appeared.
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The hype in Belgium and the Netherlands was real before a single bottle shipped. HEMA has that kind of standing here. It’s the brand nobody has to explain. So when rumours started about what a HEMA and Fugazzi collab might actually smell like, people were checking release dates the way you check a restock. Some got early access, and the reaction split down the middle before most people had even smelled it. I wanted one for a simple reason: niche fragrance at this price basically doesn’t happen, and I wasn’t going to be the guy who skipped it on principle.
On the Skin
The opening is pear, no hedging about it. Pear is a note that goes wrong more often than it goes right, tipping into candy or rot with almost no warning. This one lands ripe without going sickly, fresh without going thin. That blast is loud for the first stretch and then it drops off fast, within the hour, settling into something quieter rather than disappearing outright. Saffron moves in right behind it, bringing a spicy warmth that doesn’t exactly scream “freshie,” but the pear holds enough ground to keep the whole thing from tipping into heavy. It’s a strange, specific balance and it mostly works. The dry-down is where it earns its keep: sandalwood and agarwood building a smooth, creamy, woody base that has no interest in gender. Some people read this as leaning masculine. I’d push back on that. It’s not feminine either. It just skips the floral playbook entirely in favour of spice against fruit, and that’s a different thing than masculine.
Performance
Performance is honest rather than impressive. Strong out of the gate, pear doing most of the announcing, then it pulls into a smaller bubble instead of projecting for hours. Not a skin scent, but not chasing anyone down a hallway either. Six hours is the real number for me, after which it’s a respray or accept that it’s mostly gone. Temperature matters more than usual here: above 30°C the whole thing gets muddy and the freshness that makes it work just evaporates. Twenty to twenty-five degrees is where this fragrance actually earns the hype, and that’s a narrow window.
The Verdict
Which puts it squarely in early spring and early autumn territory, the weeks where the air still has some bite in the morning but hasn’t turned properly cold. I’ve got exactly one bottle and it’s limited edition, so I’m not burning through it on ordinary Tuesdays. This is a fragrance I ration on purpose, spraying it when the weather actually cooperates rather than whenever I feel like it. That’s less about scarcity for its own sake and more about matching a scent to the handful of weeks a year it genuinely performs. Worth having, worth protecting, and one of the better arguments for why niche collabs with mass retailers should happen more often.
