After immediately falling head over heels in love with Bois d'Iris, to the tune of $185, I took my time about the other five fragrances in the Collection Extraordinaire from Van Cleef & Arpels. As it turns out, they're all nicely done, and I can see why Gardénia Pétale in particular has found admirers. But none of them made me catch my breath other than the Muguet Blanc, and my reaction to that one was not entirely positive.
Here's what Neiman Marcus has to say about Muguet Blanc:
Muguet Blanc showcases the purity, innocence and much-anticipated beauty of one of springtime's first flowers. A green, joyous and incredibly delicate arrangement, graceful lily-of-the-valley is enhanced with exotic white peony, radiant neroli and uplifting white cedar.
For the most part, that's right on the money; the part I'm going to quibble about is mostly the "joyous". To explain why, I need to back up. A little warning before I proceed: those of you who are sick to death of hearing me wax nostalgic about the lost glory days of perfumery, move on, there's nothing else to read here today.
Most of you know about the various IFRA restrictions on fragrance materials that have resulted in large-scale reformulations of many older perfumes. The lion's share of the tears have been reserved, understandably, for the iconic masterpieces like Guerlain Mitsouko and Jean Patou Joy and Chanel No. 5. All three of these fragrances, of course, still exist; they simply aren't quite the same as they used to be.1 As Denyse so nicely put it at Grain de Musc:
It’s like saying to painters: you can’t put red in your paintings anymore, because we’ve found out it makes people more aggressive. And, oh, by the way, we’re repainting everything in the museums in pink, so there you go, now there’s a good fellow.
I ought to cry about Mitsouko and Joy and Chanel No. 5, but I don't, not really. All three appear to have been reformulated as respectfully as possible, and anyway, masterpieces though they may be, none of the 3 are close to my heart — I'm mad that they've been messed with, but my anger is abstract. My own tears are reserved for Edmond Roudnitska's lily of the valley masterpiece, Diorissimo, which I've worn longer than any other fragrance in my collection. Diorissimo has been reformulated more than once, and by all accounts had already lost some of its glory even by the time I reviewed it in 2005, but hey, it was still Diorissimo.2 Whether it is today, I can't say first-hand — and my current plan is to see if I can avoid finding out for myself — but part of what spurred me to write this rant was receiving the new paperback edition of Perfumes: The Guide and discovering that Diorissimo had been downgraded from 4 stars to 2. The verdict, from Luca Turin: "Diorissimo is going downhill rapidly; the latest version is harsher still".3
That sad news colors my feelings about Muguet Blanc and I won't pretend otherwise. It's hard enough for a perfumer (in this case, the very talented Antoine Maisondieu) to tackle lily of the valley as it is — comparisons to Diorissimo are inevitable, as in this example, again from Perfumes: The A-Z Guide but this time written by Tania Sanchez:
The [Caron] Muguet du Bonheur I always knew was of good quality but suffered from the tendency of lily of the valley, unless treated with great care as in the brilliant Diorissimo, to smell like household products.4
Which neatly brings me back to Muguet Blanc. Muguet Blanc is a gorgeous rendition of lily of the valley, delicate, lightly green, very spring-like and pure, just as described in the ad copy. It might well smell more like real lily of the valley than Diorissimo, but as I don't have any fresh lily of the valley handy, I couldn't say for sure. Patty at Perfume Posse calls Muguet Blanc "breathtaking", and I can't argue with that. If you adore lily of the valley, you really ought to go and try it.
For my part, Muguet Blanc represents nearly everything that makes me sad about modern perfumery. It's gorgeous, yes, but also clean, even brutally so. The subtle animalic touches that make Diorissimo both spring-like and sexy are entirely absent — Muguet Blanc is too beautifully done (and expensive) to be an air freshener, but if you wanted a really, really nice air freshener and didn't mind paying premium, it would do the trick. It's clean as a whistle.
Muguet Blanc does something else that is unique to modern fragrance, and that I'll have a hard time putting into words. It's diffusive and radiant: it moves through space in a very 3 dimensional way while maintaining a sense of lightness and transparency. But at the same time, it feels utterly flat. Diorissimo sparkles and dances — it has a kind of depth and movement about it. Muguet Blanc fills the room, then just sits there, beautiful but lifeless. I suspect that nobody will have any idea what I'm talking about, but if you do, and you've a better way of expressing it, please comment!
Van Cleef & Arpels Muguet Blanc is available in 75 ml Eau de Parfum, $185.
Note: top image is IMG_1984 by abbybatchelder at flickr; some rights reserved.
1. I should note here that I'm relying entirely on what others have written — I have not personally compared new and old versions of Mitsouko, Joy and Chanel No. 5.
2. And as long time readers know, I kept saying over and over that I was going to buy a bottle of Diorissimo in extrait, but I dithered about, waiting for a good price. I have two small samples of vintage, and I'll have to make do with those. Carpe diem, folks.
3. Perfumes: The A-Z Guide, p. 209.
4. Ibid., p. 389.
Hm, sometimes there is something to be said for lifeless beauty, especially if it is a cold, flat beauty that doesn’t care about you? Or is that only in visual art/my love life?
I’ll have to make my way back to that hideous Neimann Marcus in Bellevue to see if I can smell this one.
Thank you for the laugh, I needed that!
I love Muget scents, but my gold standard is Diorissimo. I’d be interested to see how it wears, but then there’s the price tag too….
It ain’t cheap, although it is cheaper than the MDCI lily of the valley, if that’s any consolation.
Which MDCI is LOTV? Coeur en Mai?
Yes, sorry!
See, and to me, that seems to be about much, much more than just LOTV (that’s why I wasn’t even sure if that’s the one you meant). Then again, my nose isn’t that much of an LOTV conoisseur, either.
I keep avoiding sampling this one because I’m terrified that I will fall in love with it – it was gorgeous on paper, but I haven’t put it to skin yet. I already love and covet DelRae’s Debut, it’s less expensive than Muguet Blanc, and I sure don’t need two LotV scents. Of course, the VCA is actually cheaper per ml, but that doesn’t help the bottom line on my budget.
I adore Delrae Debut. I assume it has (or will be) reformulated too though. Did not remember it as being that expensive, but I bought it ages ago & it was probably cheaper.
lol – by our new standards, Debut is practically free. It is $2.70/ml though and the VCA is $2.46/ml. Hopefully, I’ll still like Debut better after sampling the MB and $135 still fits better in my budget than $185.
Just checked my old email: I bought Debut in 2004 for $80.
Did Debut used to be an EDT and is now an EDP — I feel like I heard that somewhere. I am curious which version your $80 bottle is. Can you please correct me if I’m wrong?
My $80 bottle was the EdT, and it had slipped my mind entirely that they’d quit making that — thanks!
I don’t know if I can put it better but I do know that while this is a nice one it’s certainly lacking in depth. The old(er) Diorissimo was so joyously springlike to me because it not only captured the scent of the flower, it captured the feeling of spring: the brightness after the long winter the dewiness of the grass in the field and just a touch of the fecund soil from which it sprung. It was youthful and transportive and well, human.
Muget Blanc is pretty, as light and fresh as if you had picked a bunch. Of course, those of us who grew up with LotV growing wild in the backyard know that picking it is the surest way to kill it.
Yes, human is a good way to put it. I’m quite sure it’s not true, but when I smell MB I get the feeling that what I’m smelling is one single molecule.
You just articulated what, for me, is the dilemma of the soliflore as opposed to a more complex scent composed *around* a soliflore… if that makes any sense.
Makes sense in a way, although not entirely…a soliflore is just a “picture” of a single flower but might have many floral notes — Diorissimo being a perfect example. But Diorissimo doesn’t smell like a single molecule to me at all. Or maybe we’re talking about totally different things?? Not really sure what you mean by “a more complex scent composed around a solifore”….if it was that, it wouldn’t be a soliflore?
I guess I’m thinking of scents where a certain flower is dominant, but there’s more complexity going on there. My language is failing… I guess that’s still a soliflore, yes. But I was thinking of a soliflore as striking one note … if compared to music, more like a solo on one instrument, or a duet at most, rather than a concerto for a single instrument. Again, a poor analogy. Reductio ad absurdum: Demeter scents smell like one molecule. I almost wouldn’t call Diorissimo or Lys Mediterranee or Dark Rose “soliflores” even if they’re based around one flower.
Oh, gotcha. Well, Diorissimo is generally called a muguet soliflore, even though it has quite a bit of jasmine, among other things. Dark Rose would not be, I don’t think — it is not by any means meant to be a “picture” of rose, although rose is in the title — and sorry to say I can’t remember LM at the moment well enough to say. But certainly know what you mean about the Demeters.
I have never really thought of Diorissimo as a soliflore myself, not like Muguet de Bois or Muguet de Bonheur – there is just so much more going on. Now I don’t know if I ever want to smell the current one if it’s been downgraded to where it really IS a soliflore, and a harsh one at that – how awful.
In terms of how the industry uses the term, it is a soliflore and always has been…a soliflore can have a lot going on and still be a soliflore. But I know what you mean…if they’ve “simplified” it, I wouldn’t like that either.
This is not nearly as good as Diorissimo. It was much less lively and deep. Okay, but no comparison to the Gold Standard.
Yep.
Robin, my love of lily of the valley itself is abstract, but I feel your pain, anyway. And I’m shocked–shocked!–that not a single one of your readers has sent you some Diorissimo parfum already.
I am very interested in what you write about the relative sparkle of Diorissimo (and perhaps vintage fragrances in general?) compared to the relative lifelessness of VCA’s Muguet. The architecture of fragrance–it’s three dimensionality (four if you count time, and we should) is something that’s quite difficult to write about, but so crucial to understanding why something can’t be summed up merely by reciting a list of the notes. I know that my cravings for a sense of depth, for example, first sent me to ambers and orientals when I began sniffing. Later I learned to distinguish between that kind of richness, or “muchness” (lots of spices and sweetness and so on) and the kind of resonance I was looking for (though they did sometimes co-exist–Coco being one example). Thinking of modern fragrances that have a retro feel, I often think about them as having “bones” and flesh (in fact, I often say to myself, “Now that’s a perfume with some cheekbones!” by which I mean, a kind of chypre feel, if not an actual chypre) which kind of brings us back to your longing for those animalic touches. Without the leap from the earthy to the sublime there is so little movement–in our noses, in our minds–no contrast to refresh ourselves with–so maybe that accounts, in part for the lifelessness?
I’m rambling, so will stop, but it’s a fascinating topic.
It is an interesting topic, and it is here that language really fails. Even a couple years ago, fragrances had a real sparkle…now they don’t have at all the same *kind* of sparkle. They can do a sort of sparkle (some newer fragrances do a kind of fake champagne effect, for instance) that’s more like a fizz, but everything from this past year that opens with citrus is missing something crucial. The same goes for “crisp”…newer fragrances aren’t crisp in the same way that older ones (and again, from even a few years ago) are.
I was talking to someone about how lifeless newer fragrances are, and they said “oh, you mean they’re linear”, but that isn’t what I mean at all. Even Muguet Blanc (which is admittedly doesn’t change terribly over time) isn’t entirely linear, but it has this quality whereby it feels almost like what I’m smelling is a single molecule, which I’m quite sure it isn’t. There isn’t any sense of multiple notes playing against each other.
I give up: I can’t say it properly!
Perhaps it’s that the “sparkle” has been replaced with not only “fizz” (and who really wants to drink 7Up when they want a glass of champagne instead) but “blare” as well. Granted, I’m speaking as a newb, but the more I compare vintage and moderns frags, the more I seem to note an almost physical perception of loudness in the newer ones. It’s a sort of high-pitched vibration that goes right up my nose and sits on my sinuses and to me is similar to going to a great club or concert and being a smidge too close to the speakers. The music may be great, but after a while you want something quieter, but clearer. Something with it’s feet on the ground.
This is a great way of putting it. I once wrote, reviewing a Bond scent, that I have the same “loud trumpets” problem with a lot of their openings, and that it’s a loudness I associate more with department store scents than with niche or vintage. It’s not about the power of the scent–lord knows vintage Mitsouko, not to mention Youth Dew, can clear a room–but with the place of the loudness, it’s location. Definitely a brass instrument rather than a stand-up bass!
That’s it exactly! Brassy.
Oh, and adding — my two lovely samples of vintage extrait did come from readers!
Oh good! (About the readers.) And about the other–I wish a perfumer would pipe up on this topic, because I have a feeling that the devil is in the chemistry. You know, we often speak of a note as having different “facets.” I wonder if part of that lack of sparkle, R., is a lack of facets, a lack of subtle flashing between slightly different versions of the same odor and/or a difference in the way these components relate to one another, play off one another. In some cases (bergamot, jasmine, oakmoss) this might be due to the dearth of natural materials (it has long been the argument in favor of naturals that they have greater depth, more trace materials) or a particular natural that provided that kind of space and glancing movement. Or it might have just as much to do with the construction of the scent–they might be sacrificing one thing (sparkle) for another (radiance, keeping the cost down, etc.) . And here I stop at the door of the chemistry lab…
At any rate, I think you’re expressing yourself just fine. And I’m betting that the perfumers would know exactly what you’re getting at.
I’m sure a perfumer could explain it, but as usual I don’t much care about the technical aspects — I just want my citrus back! Oh, and my jasmine and oakmoss. And whatever else they’re plotting to take away from me.
Yes, yes, yes! You have absolutely encapsulated everything I feel and your articulation is brilliant. One of my recent rants has been on the murder of Cristalle – I kept saying that it had lost its “zinginess”. It’s so frustrating and sad. But in a small way it is comforting to hear about fellow sufferers.
I have not tried Cristalle recently, and I think that’s another one I will try to avoid for the sake of my peace of mind.
Wonderful piece, Robin. You capture very well the heart of the–well, the broken-heartedness of the whole reformulation issue. And placing your reaction to the VCA Muguet Blanc in relief against that background paints a pretty clear picture of what Muguet Blanc offers…and what it doesn’t.
I will try out the VCAs at some point myself. Meanwhile, your reports are eagerly welcomed. And, might I add, I am very happy you were able to find joy with the VCA Iris.
Oh do try them, and this one too. They’re really quite beautifully done — props to whomever did the creative direction. And poor Muguet Blanc is lovely, just not my style. I can’t blame VCA that everybody these days wants CLEAN.
Diorissimo these days is garbage – an insult to perfumistas. If you can’t reformulate properly then give the thing a proper burial instead of stinking up the place.
Alas, in the end I didn’t fall for Bois D’Iris, after the lovely first half-hour had elapsed and I was left with vanilla. So I’ll take your word on Muguet Blanc. I used to go for lily of the valley when I was prepubescent and enchanted with cheap toilet water in spring colors like lilac. Now I would like it swanked up, gone classy, I suppose to prove to myself that I really have grown up…which is debatable…
Oh, I so totally agree. Just discontinue the stuff, for heaven’s sakes. Or put a label on it that says “but not the one by Edmond Roudnitska”.
How about a label that reads, “Warning: This is a sin and a lie.”
Ha!!!
Has anyone here tried the Le Muguet by Guerlain?
My vintage bottle of Diorissimo (heavy glass, optional brass atomizer, hounds-tooth box and decoration) is almost brown in color but smells heavenly after 10 minutes!
I have tried a couple of them (if I remember correctly, they release limited amounts every year around May Day). Pretty, but not astonishingly so based on what I tried.
Oh…and I do miss the houndstooth! I was very disappointed when Dior stopped using it on the Diorissimo labels.
Houndstooth: the most unappreciated of weaves.
Who knows though. Plaid’s made quite a comeback. Maybe houndstooth will be close behind.
Hooundstooth already happened. It was a runway fashion special in Allure this month!
For me, houndstooth will always be the St. Sebastian’s elementary school uniform.
@Monstabunny: Allure should thank me for unwittingly spreading their gospel. 🙂
@Amiliona: It was St. Mary of the Lake’s uniform for me!
Oh Houndstooth has definitely made a comeback for a couple of seasons now. Last year, I even found a pair of sunglasses with the motif on the frames which I got for my houndstooth-loving daughter. 🙂
Lovely post Robin, and I know exactly what you mean … Diorissimo is my lifetime HG, I’ve loved it for 30+ years, and the thought that it will never again “smell like itself” is just heartbreaking. I have a bottle I bought a few months ago, and I am afraid to open and sniff it! How can we have those wonderful “Remembrance of Things Past” moments when the thing no longer smells the same to begin with? My only consolation is that, thanks in large part to what I have learned from reading the wonderful reviews on NST, there are still great fragrances to love out there. And I’ve been spending lots of time wearing some oldies (and cheapies!) like Madam Rochas and Le Dix, L’Interdit, Jolie Madam that may not sparkle – but they still twinkle just fine. That’s some consolation.
Oh, will keep my fingers crossed that you got yourself a nice dusty old bottle!
Me too – been haunting Fleabay for vintage, both sought-after and obscure, and so far I have been very happy with what I have found! Now I am in love with Sortilege and Tailspin and more, and looking for vintage bottles of the “ruined” scents I once loved. Unfortunately, good older bottles of Diorissimo are not in my price range! 🙁
Diorissimo is the only muguet I have ever been able to tolerate – I had a bad headache experience with some perfume oil that has forever tainted the scent. Maybe I will warm up to it again but will keep my eye open for those houndstooth bottles….
I do know what you are trying to describe, though. There are some perfumes that I try on and they just seem to go no place, not linear – they do change with time, but there is no transport that I find so essential in a great perfume. When I have a great scent on my body, I want it to lift me, take my mind elsewhere, really make me recognize it. So many perfumes now just smell good for a little while, go flat, and are done. Even some that are well-done and smell really good – they just sit there.
You don’t even need to go so far back as the houndstooth packaging to get good Diorissimo, really…even 2005/2006 I think is probably fine. The older, truly vintage EdTs I’ve smelled are indeed better, but the top notes are off. I have a wonderful decant of the EdP and I wish I knew what year it was from — it’s marvelous.
So true about the topnotes in vintage Diorissimo…it’s still lovely, though – so French, and so 1950’s – I’ve adored it for a long time. But it’s now down to 2 stars in the Guide? *sigh*
I will give the MB a sniff, though.
Might as well give it a shot!
R, I think you summed up the situation perfectly.
Plus, MB has a certain vanillic aspect to it in the drydown that smells like so many of these other new releases, although it is better formulated than most of them.
Hugs!
Yes, it does get sweeter as it dries down, and cleaner too. When I smell it on clothing from the day before, it really could be dryer sheet.
Hugs to you too!
I wonder if the same bioactivity that can trigger allergies (and is hence banned) is the same thing that gives older fragrances depth and sparkle?
The lifeless, too clean quality you write about is something that I have come to associate with the use of salicylates. They show up in the notes for the new VCAs, the Maison Francis Kurkdjians, and Vanille Galante. But I don’t know enough about the chemistry of perfumery to know if this is anything more than a random association.
I’m sad about the old Diorissimo, too. It’s the first perfume I ever bought for myself, a long time ago. I hope I have enough left to see me through.
I have been wearing it since junior high. That’s a very, very long time. I wouldn’t even want to count how long.
Interesting about the salicylates. Vanille Galante did not strike me as flat though, I don’t think…did it you?
I don’t get a flatness from VG either, but I remember reading something by someone schooled in the chemistry of scent that it immediately smelled obviously of certain salicylates… the highest concentration of them this person had ever detected in an off-the-shelf scent, or something like that.
I thought the the lily and the slightly strange fruit note balanced things out in Vanille Galante in a much more dynamic way than in the VCAs & MFKs, but that there was still a kind of expanded space (if that makes any sense) that seems to be part of the flatness of these scents. This isn’t to say that I don’t like and admire these perfumes. Vanille Galante was FB-worthy for me and I wore it lot last summer. Decants, at least, of some of the VCAs and MFKs are in my future. But earthy and sensual? Not on me.
Interesting. I will have to put on VG again and think about that.
I had a bottle of Diorissimo in the late 80’s/early 90’s if memory serves me right. Not the parfum, though, just the EDT (or was it EDP?). Loved it then but haven’t smelled it since. Such a sad demise! I’ve pretty much decided to stick with current scents rather than try to dig up old memories. Seems those old memories are pretty much GONE with all of the reformulations. I don’t have the energy to seek out vintage scents either. Would rather try to find new releases that inspire me.
I did, however, recently purchase a new bottle of Rive Gauche. I wore RG in the early 80’s and LOVED it!!! The current iteration is a ghost of what it was – still recognizable, but not the same. It does smell great, though, and does give me that nostalgic feeling. It’s one vintage bottle I still wish I had…
Rive Gauche I think was changed longer ago…I know I smelled it in 2004/2005 and thought it quite different from what it used to be. Interestingly enough, Perfumes: A-Z gives the new very high marks, and says it was reformulated in 2003. Of course, it’s also possible it’s changed again even since they wrote the hardback version — many things probably have, and I know they didn’t re-smell everything.
I gave away a bottle of Diorissimo several years ago. Ask me how much I regret that. On second thought, don’t.
I think we are talking about two different issues here. First, there’s the castration/downgrading of scents due to IFRA regs, “market forces,” etc.
But the “cleaning up” of fragrances I think is a separate problem that deserves its own attention. I’m sure perfumers could find a smutty smell or three to taint our fragrances, and sometimes they do. But (and this is hardly my original thought) taken as a whole, scents have gotten cleaner as a fashion. Now girls are supposed to look like floozies and smell like cupcakes, more or less. I am still shocked occasionally when I unearth some vintage gem and smell how much musk or civet is in there, back when ladies *looked* like ladies and *smelled* sexy.
Oh, agree totally. IFRA ruined my Diorissimo, but can’t be blamed for current preferences for laundry sheet. It’s just that IFRA ruining my Diorissimo makes me even madder about the laundry sheet.
“Now girls are supposed to look like floozies and smell like cupcakes, more or less.”
You’ve just summed up everything about being a modern woman that drives me crazy. Well, that and the whole inadequate pay thing.
Honey you are preaching to the choir.
Robin, your comments above about fragrances being so thin reminds me of the debate people had that decade or so ago when cds took over from good old records. (My Astral Weeks LP is magnificent compared to my AW cd….. And don’t even get me started on jazz recordings!!) The discussion about how records had that rich depth rather than the thin, yet perfect, sound of digital music seems to ring true about the conversation about modern fragrances. They are too “digital” too perfect, too downloadable … not natural, certainly not “human” — flawed and beautiful. All this standardization and “perfection” for mass production and distribution comes at a price. Jeez, now I want to go home and get out my Nothing Like the Sun LP, put on some Mitsouko and lament…
Oh, nice analogy! Sadly, I’m one of the philistines who preferred CDs anyway because it was so much easier to take care of them (still remember my sister, who had the most amazing LP collection ever, refusing to allow anybody to play a vinyl disk more than once in 24 hours — and still don’t know if that was sensible or utter nonsense). Now I have to laugh as I look at my very large and very useless CD collection — none of them get any use whatsoever, because like everyone else I’ve switched to iPod.
And now I’ll display my total ignorance: do the newer digital forms restore anything that was lost when everything first switched over to CD, or no?
Hmm. I don’t know. I know there is that super nifty device you can hook up to your computer and copy LPs directly. It seems to me it would pick up the lovely scratchy pops, etc, that are normally on LPs… But with all the technology that is even meant to “fix” voices to be pitch perfect, I doubt people are trying to engineer flaws back into music.
And I laugh too – my rather pathetic CD collection is even more pathetic now. And I don’t even have an ipod or MP3 player. But I still have my yellow sporty Sony walkman that still works! I don’t normally listen to music on headphones anyway. It makes me clausterphobic. I listen off my computer or on my small stereo. My hayday was LPs and tapes, and I’m not starting over!! It is just too much work. I get everything I want right off my computer now anyway…
I have a husband and son who both listen to music I do NOT want to hear, so we love headphones over here! But it does change the listening experience.
This is exactly how I was going to describe the sensation of polished-to-lifelessness. No heart, no life, no experiences, just perfect “pretty”. It’s like seeing a masterpiece of a movie remade with all the quirks and character of the original smoothed over. Or listening to an old song resynthesized, remixed, all the throaty grunge and silent pauses, gone. Or hand-drawn animation, painting and sketching vs. working with pre-packaged graphics programs. The outcome can be another piece of delightful art that has value all its own, but often some of the gritty humanity is lost in the process. Tech printed signs vs. hand painted ones. Polished to absolute efficiency and precision, no more, no less. Admired, sometimes, but rarely loved.
The things that we usually connect to most, the moments that break our hearts, are rarely tied to efficient, polite presentation. They’re the intimate gestures that drive us. That’s what it is: A shift in fragrance as the reflection of deep, emotional connection–the very personal kind–or extension of distinct personality, to people-pleasing and social advancement. Business as usual. Not moments that make you stop, catch your breath and re-evaluate life forever.
What are the questions people ask most about fragrance, now?:
“How does the opposite sex interpret this?”
“Could I wear this in an office setting?”
“Will I smell_____(old, crazy, dirty)?”
I don’t think people were once so afraid to be reminded of organic things while smelling fragrance. Most people knew that if they smelled dried leaves, dirt, dried flower petals and heavy, sometimes animalic oils, that it was the result of an applied, artistic composition…not some indication that you were squirreling away forest detritus in your person. It seems that if you smell too interesting today, not simply disinfected and sanitized, too many people automatically assume “Uh, she’s/he’s a dirty, stagnant person”. Which shows how well the marketing of household products and laundering detergents has formed how people interpret ideas of health and hygiene. Is a house cleaner if it smells like lemons and cotton, than if it smells like tuberose and patchouli?
I think you once even posted one here, Robin, an interesting sociological/anthropological study about cultural identity through fragrance.
Basically, not relegating scent interpretation to two camps: “Clean/Healthy” or “Dirty/Diseased”. You could think, instead, “What about that persons interests, experience and emotions inspired them to wear something that makes people think of moss? Or coffee and musk?”
Nicely put, thanks NLB!
Now don’t everyone show up on my doorstep with flaming torches and pitchforks –I hate it when that happens……but I like the Muguet Blanc. To me it really does smell like fresh lotv, light lemony sparkle on the top and all. (in a half price sale I’d snap a bottle up in a second. Can’t afford a full priced bottle because Bois d’Iris already sucked the last few thin coins from my piggy bank.) To me MB seems an entirely different beastie than Diorissimo—I have a decant thanks to the Amazing Mals–Diorissimo is a much heavier scent with undertones of soil and beeswax that bring to my mind the dampness of freshly turned soil in spring…I think it’s that note that also engenders a bit of melancholy when I wear it. There’s been a couple of times where Diorissimo has brought me almost to tears—it’s the oddest thing. But Muguet Blanc is a “happy” lotv….so like I said above…to me they are entirely different beasties.
Oh, but I can understand that entirely — I wasn’t kidding at all when I said it was gorgeous and everyone should try it. It just isn’t my style. I want the freshly turned soil, that’s all.
My favorite fragrance that I think smells like hands in dirt and flowers, etc, is the AG Grand Amour. It really smells like fresh spring air, flowers, and that earthy ground smell.
You bought Bois d’Iris? Ma-donna!
I’m bad
You know, I get that too – the hint of melancholy. Cannot pinpoint what it is, but something about wearing Diorissimo makes me nostalgic and wistful.
BTW, my bottle is not old, but from before the most recent reformulation, based on the packaging (Perfume Shrine has an interesting post on the subject). I dithered over buying it unsniffed. My bottle was a tester on ebay and cost me about $90 with shipping, which nearly caused me to have a heart attack, all that money spent IN ONE PLACE, eek! and now it’s lookin’ like Deal of the Decade to me.
Here’s the link to the Perfume Shrine article:
http://perfumeshrine.blogspot.com/2009/05/frequent-questions-ho-do-i-date-my.html
Interesting because Diorissimo certainly strikes me as wistful now, but quite sure it did not strike me that way when I started wearing it a gajillion years ago…so wondering if that is just because it feels “old” now?
Dunno… I never smelled Diorissimo back in the day – guess I don’t know what I’m missing. I’m okay with that.
Robin, I’m curious: Does “cleaned up” always bother you?
Don’t take this the wrong way, and I’m not just trying to be contrary, but there’s a tone (and I won’t articulate this well) in the review and many comments that’s sort of not reviewing this scent in its own right but rather comparing it to another. And of course we always make comparisons… but I’m thinking of it regarding the point of view of someone (you) who is happy to own and/or enjoy five or ten iterations of some other note like vetiver. Yet with a note like muguet, nothing touches the HG of Diorissimo. Same with other notes: it’s sort of a litany that sounds like, “Yes, Eau Verte is ‘sparkly’ and ‘citrusy’, but it’s not citrusy like OLD Cristalle was…”
And the reason I’m not succeeding in this comment is I know what you mean: some scents DO seem flat somehow. But others like Eau Verte and Jasmine White Moss really don’t bug me at all, though sure they’re not like vintage Vent Vert or whatever. Maybe my taste runs more toward the modern, dryer-sheetesque than some of you here. I don’t know.
I’m capable of being bowled over by a complex scent with alternating levels of depth and multiple facets. But I’m equally capable of just being satisfied with “smelling good” (and I know you and others are too, of course). I just can’t help noticing there’s a lamenting, comparative tone in a review like this that, again, seems to be criticizing what the fragrance *is not* rather than what it *is*. Hope this made sense, and honestly, I did enjoy reading the piece and all the comments.
Hmmm. Here’s one answer: I think there are numerous really wonderful vetiver scents, even though the “reference” vetiver is still probably Guerlain Vetiver. I don’t think that’s true of lily of the valley: most lily of the valley scents seem distinctly not as good as Diorissimo. There are a few worth wearing though — as I said above, I liked Delrae Debut enough to buy it, and I’d buy that MDCI if it weren’t so expensive.
In the case of this scent, and Eau Verte, yes, I’m absolutely letting my feelings about the older scents affect how I feel about the new ones, and in both cases I did my best to say so. In this case, I even warned people who didn’t want to read my nostalgic ravings to stop reading. So I don’t think it’s fair to go on reading and then complain about my tone, LOL…
Beyond that, there are many very simple, not particularly “artistic” scents that I love, so I have no quarrel with just wanting to smell good. But personally I don’t want to smell like laundry detergent, and my personal judgment is that the blurred lines between functional and fine perfumery, along with the outrageous number of releases, is precisely what is hurting the industry and turning off consumers. You may or not agree with me, and of course that’s fine, but I’m reminded of when we did the Q&A with Luca Turin and Tania Sanchez and someone asked “When you review a fragrance, how much do your own personal tastes influence you in how high you grade it?”, and the answers were “100%” (Luca) and “I have no impersonal tastes” (Tania). Many people were upset by that answer, but I very honestly don’t understand that anger…I think it’s a very fundamental misunderstanding about what people who review perfume, or movies or books or anything, are doing.
Sorry to be so long winded, but in the end, my answer to your point that I’m criticizing ‘what the fragrance is not rather than what it is’ is yes, I am, and why shouldn’t I? If someone makes a chocolate pie that isn’t as good as some other chocolate pie, wouldn’t you hope that someone who reviewed the not-so-good pie would mention the other, better pie? Even though it’s just their opinion, obviously? (And BTW, that was my favorite of all the many ways that disgruntled perfumistas dismissed the Turin/Sanchez book: “it’s just opinions”. Hello, what else would it be??)
Just chiming back in to say that everything you wrote makes perfect sense, and that I agree there’s no such thing as “objective criticism.” And of course criticism always includes commentary about what’s lacking (a film/play with no character development). And sorry for seeming to ignore your disclaimer.
It’s just interesting to think about all these impressions: why some offerings leave us cold yet there are other new creations that manage to interest us. I don’t think you go anywhere near as far as Rappleyea below (no offense, Rapp) in saying that “all new creations are lifeless and uninspiring.” I mean, you bought the Bois d’Iris, so it’s not really a question of modern (er… “Post-IFRA Reg”) perfumery having completely lost its mojo.
Again, yes, it’s all objective. Parts of the review reminded me of Angela’s review of PdE Trois Fleurs in which she said she prefers there to be a catch, a flaw, or some dark facet. Then and now, I guess my personal feelings on this are as follows (to paraphrase the “sometimes you feel like a nut” jingle): Sometimes I want skank or something under my blossoms; sometimes I don’t. And I didn’t mean to imply either of you are “wrong” for lamenting the “clean, minimalist” trend.
You’re such a man! LOL! Show me where I said “all”!! FYI, in the new category that passed muster is Wazamba, 180 Ans, and so far the Cartier 12 *may* be there. So there! 😉
Sorry! Sorry! [[flagellates self]] I fixated on the phrases “…the current state of perfumery. It has lost its soul and has become lifeless…” In so doing, I made an ass out of me, but hopefully not you!
You know I was just kidding you! I feel like we’re practically related being part of Daisy’s group. 😉
Yay for Daisy’s group! We need badges or something…
yeah, well, I’m still thinking about that chocolate pie……
Chocolate?!? Are you being unfaithful, Daisy??? My specialty is Key Lime! And pumpkin. And I roll a mean crust! From scratch.
Silly girl….I’m a pie ho of the worst sort! Lemon meringue is my all time fave…Key Lime and Pumpkin vie for the second place but the truth is any pie within reach is fair game……have fork, will travel.
Joe, no, certainly not…I’m still out there spending money on new releases! But remember, I LOVE minimalist scents. All those wispy Olivia Giacobetti & Jean Claude Ellena scents — those are right up my alley. And I love so many that are not at all what you’d call skanky (all my pretty florals! OJ Frangipani, La Chasse, Le Chevrefeuille, etc & etc, although agreed entirely w/ Angie on the 3 Fleurs, it just had nothing about it to catch my interest, just “pretty”)…but those scents, which you might call “clean” in their own way, don’t smell anything like detergent. I never smell La Chasse and think “Glade”. But Muguet Blanc, right away, I thought “Glade. Nice Glade, but Glade”.
Again, interesting. So for two new muguet scents, the VCA=Glade but the MDCI≠Glade. I guess then it’s simply what the French chalk up to certain qualities of “je ne sais quoi”? And I’ve been there too. Maybe this phenomenon can be called “To Meh or Not to Meh.”
Or maybe you just use MUCH swankier detergent, dryer sheets, and air freshener than I am exposed to. LOL 😀
Robin – I often find the same “flatness” or strangeness in the JCE scents as well. I keep waiting for them to come to life.
Joe, kind of “je ne sais quoi” but also in this specific case, I think the use of specific musks which smell like detergent.
On a broader note, If the industry wants fine fragrance to keep its mystery, they’ve got to stop using the same aromachemicals in fine fragrance that they use in other products that spell “clean” to consumers. Seriously, go do a smell test of some air freshener products and some of the newer scented detergents (I’m talking Tide & Gain, not The Laundress Le Labo) in the grocery store — I think you’ll be surprised.
I know what you mean, Robin. I totally got this out of Byredo Blanche, for example.
Yes, same here on the Byredo Blanche!! Pretty, no soul.
Joe and Robin, just nosing in here to thank you both for such an articulate, interesting discussion. And kudos to you both for managing to carry on like this in such a respectful fashion.
Joe, separate from Robin’s discussion of personal tastes (which I totally agree with) – it’s an interesting phenomenon, sniffing fragrances for possible review, to realize you’ve smelled something “good” or even “great” that leaves you utterly cold. It’s an odd soullessness that I still don’t really understand. And again – personal tastes – if it doesn’t speak to me in some way, I can’t think of a thing to say about it, and I don’t want to wear it. I wonder if this is the most elevated plane of “good smells” – a fragrance that may verge on technical brilliance but be all facade.
March, glad to see you chiming in on this, as I thought–reading it yesterday–that it’s similar to the exchange you and I had about the Blue Mitsouko. That problem of how to review something based on it’s own contemporary merits when one’s understanding of what’s great has been formed by methods and materials no longer in use, or at least, no longer in mainstream fashion.
But I like very much what you’re adding to the exchange here–this probing of the difference between “personal taste” in general, and an opinion founded on lots and lots of sniffing that, nevertheless, boils down to an emotional reaction. I do think both you and Robin articulate this line often, and well, in your reviews. It’s what I think of as that classic NST “If you like XX you will enjoy this, but as for me…” kind of formulation.
The one quality I’ve appreciated most in some of the new, synthetic interpretations of vetiver and mosses, is the luminescent sunshine feeling they often have. It’s like a molecular interpretation of solar energy on greens and I like that in certain blends. But some of the older fragrances that have been re-worked to be acceptable by new legal and social standards, just remind me of aging personalities who’ve gone overboard on health-nutting, face-lifts and botox; yes, sometimes the result is something that follows social rules and seems pleasantly presentable; but more often than not, in the quest for youthfulness and sanitization, character and fascination is lost. What’s wrong with a fragrance that smells like it’s had a life? One that might be a little dangerous because it’s not stripped of every potential hazard (I obviously don’t mean risking a real danger from something cosmetic, like painting your face in lead white and ochre)? It’s like taking the alcohol and fermentation qualities out of wine because some people might not be able to handle the alcohol and fermentation being interpreted to mean “ripe, aged–so, it’s bad”. The final result is a sparkling beverage that, while having the potential to be good or even very good, will never be wine.
I do, however, appreciate quality interpretations of animalic ingredients, but for ethical reasons only. Even I have to admit that the addition of some archaic, animalic ingredients–like authentic tonkin musk–add dimensions to a fragrance that could never, or are extremely unlikely to be reproduced in a test tube.
Well, that’s it in a nutshell. Most recent mainstream fragrances smell “sanitized”. There’s nothing wrong with american cheese — it has its place — but that doesn’t mean you can’t cry if they tell you they’ve outlawed brie.
I can understand entirely why animal-derived ingredients aren’t generally used anymore (although a whiff of vintage Jicky tells you why they were once popular). But we’ve lost so many more notes now for nebulous, “what if” reasons.
DO I HEAR AN AMEN?!? AMEN Robin!! Great job at articulating your thoughts (and mine!) on the current state of perfumery. It has lost its soul and has become lifeless. Even when I read interviews with some of the current top noses out there, they often sound like little boys playing with their new chemistry sets at Christmas rather than perfumers, describing the way they manipulate this molecule and that one.
I’ve been on a testing rampage since back in the spring, and it’s not that these perfumes smell “bad” or “offensive”, but I”m often left feeling that there is something off or not right about them, as if I’m looking at a wax figure rather than a real human being.
It’s terribly sad…I often feel like I came to this “hobby” (or whatever you want to call it) at a very bad time.
On the other hand, it’s been pretty painful to have worn perfume for as many years as I have and remember how great they used to smell compared to now. Makes me kind of wish i had dropped out of my hobby a couple of years ago. It’s kind of like being in ICU and watching someone on life support listening to their death rattle. Do you really want to be there?
You know, all in all I think there are still lots of good fragrance released every year…probably just as many as always — it’s just that there’s so much more dreck than there used to be. I do think the industry is imploding in a way…as a whole, the industry is acting against its own interests by releasing so much product, and so much bad product, and so many dreary clones of existing fragrances. But there’s still plenty to love! I haven’t managed to stop spending yet, at any rate.
LOL! Me neither – as you’ll find out at the end of quarter reckoning.
Wow, what a conversation!
I think Robin, you make a good point. There are probably about a handful (isn’t that enough?) of really good, beautiful, gorgeous, memorable, fragrances being released today by indie and artisan perfumers. Mass market fragrance RIP. I’ve discovered about three Dawn Spencer Hurwitz fragrances that I really admire this year, and of course, there is my fav indie house, Sonoma Scent Studio. But look at what Amouage is doing too – a few really outstanding releases over the years. That’s what quality perfumerie is about. We all adore L’Artisan. There’s all the Frederic Malle’s I can’t afford. … There is still really good stuff out there, just not in the normal places. Just like with everything else these days. The few and far between are what I am looking for.
I suppose what I’m trying to say in support of most comments above, is the way the world is now, I don’t expect much from corporate conglomerate *anything*. I spend my fair share of time trolling for classics that I love, and then dipping my toes and nose into the different indie/artisan houses that may have the artistic freedom to captivate my attention.
Ann, you’re even more jaded than I am, LOL…I do think there have been some wonderful mainstream releases this year: VCA’s own Bois d’Iris, for one, and Prada’s new amber scent, and really liked John Varvatos Artisan, and many others. By all accounts the new Cartier Les Heures set is wonderful, and then there’s the new Natori (which I have not tried yet but seems to have lots of fans).
Yes, they’re far outnumbered by the dreck, so can’t quarrel with anyone who decides to turn their back on the whole thing and only wear niche, but still: there are still great fragrances out there, even in department stores.
Well said AnnS. Very good points.
Oh – I am not anti-department store fragrances by any means [just yesterday I sampled Magie Noire for the first time, and without comparing it to the original – I loved it & I’m a fan EL in general, etc.], but I do worry about the future and where it’s all headed.
Oh, I’m not anti-department store, as I wear many of the Chanels, and I respect Estee Lauder’s line though I don’t wear any of them, etc. I will confess that I *almost* like Gucci Flora for about 5 minutes…. I suppose this whole merry-go-round of banality is wearing me out. I’m not totally niche either…. I suppose if I lived closer to any decent department stores I’d feel different, but my local department stores are all lower end…
Although of course I think it’s sad that we’ve lost many of the classics, and that many of the new releases are very low in quality, I would argue that this is not at all a bad or depressing time to have a serious interest in perfume. This might even be a great time to love perfume. Why would I say this? Because there’s this vast community of people who also love the stuff, and seemingly endless opportunities to connect with them and talk about it.
If you time traveled back to the fifties and bought some vintage Diorissimo, how much could you really say about it to other people before they dialed the number to the funny farm and carted you away? How would you find other perfume lovers? The classified ads? PTA meetings? You’d likely be experiencing the masterpiece in a vacuum, and I argue that that wouldn’t be as much fun.
So, loss is painful, mediocrity is uninspiring, but being able to gripe about those things to a whole lot of interested ears (and celebrate beauty when it does come along)–being able to do that makes it a really good time to be a perfume lover.
Charlotte – you make such an excellent point! I did enjoy many of my early fragrance experiences when I was young in the 80s in a vacuum! I was 15 when I fell in love with Jardins de Bagetelle. Now who was I supposed to talk to about that? I was almost embarrassed to even walk up to it in the store. In my teens and early twenties I was yearning for that special sophistication found in fragrances… but, again, in that vaccum. Even until recently I didn’t have anyone to talk about my love of perfume in my immediate circles. Now it is such a joy to connect with everyone about fragrances, that I tend to agree with you. Since I found these online forums and decanters a few years ago, I have learned about all kinds of fragrances I’d never known about, even the ones that are sadly in decline. One of my most treasured samples is what’s left of my L’Artisan Orchidee Blanche. Now that’s a discontinued fragrance that is a real tragedy. ….
And yes, we all deserve to be carted off to the loony bin, wearing our bulap sack outfits… (Daisy, I’m talking to you!)
AnnS – this is really a comment to yours above, but there was no reply space left. I’d love to talk to you about the DSH’s you’ve found. I’m very interested in her line, but it cam be overwhelming to know where to start. ~Donna
Great point Charlotte! And thank you for pointing it out.
Charlotte, absolutely true. I would never have gotten interested in perfume if it were not for the internet anyway. (and so would just be puzzled about why Diorissimo smelled different, and would probably think it was my own bad memory)
Gosh, you make me want to send you my little bottle of Diorissimo extrait (at least 8 years old), only 1. it’s so cloudy with bits of skin and God knows what other detritus that I’d be embarrassed and 2. you never know when it will sing to me again, as it did for well nigh 20 years. Anyway, I’m glad to know that other kind souls have come to your rescue!
I haven’t made it to the VC&A Muguet Blanc yet, although maybe I’ll give it a shot tonight. The Bois d’Iris was gorgeous for about 3 seconds then COMPLETELY disappeared — I’ve never been anosmic to anything before (in fact, I’m semi-phantosmic!), but I guess there’s always a first time. However, let it serve as a warning to any intrepid souls considering an unsniffed purchase…
Oh, do hang on to your Diorissimo…you’re sure to want it again some day!
And what a shame about Bois d’Iris! It is so weird how one molecule can block all the rest.
I have a confession. It’s not pretty. You’ll probably make me sit by myself at lunch for owning up to it. Sniff. But I’m going to be brave and say the unsayable:
I bought a bottle of Diorissimo EdT about a month ago, and I love it. I mean, not just giddy, light-hearted infatuation, but full-on, lose-your-head and sign-over-your-firstborn love. It’s not vintage juice; it’s the newest of the new stuff, and It’s so delicious I would drink it if I could. I remember smelling Diorissimo in its mid-80s incarnation, when an older, and vastly more sophisticated friend of mine happily let me have a gorgeous little dab of it. I loved it then, and it made a profound, lasting impression on me.
I’m sure if I had that older bottle here to compare with my new one, I’d emphatically agree that the vintage is better. I’m sure it is. It’s probably only a shadow of its former self. But by god, it is still a thing of transcendental beauty. It’s sweet, but without a hint of sugar, and dainty without ever being girlish or naive. It may lack some of the shimmer and elegant earthiness of old, but it still smells wonderful. It truly does. I’ve been going through a bit of a sad patch recently, but spraying on a cloud of Diorissimo has lifted my mood more than any cup of tea or even hug could. It’s astonishingly, transformatively lovely.
I know. I know. It’s not the same. It isn’t. But it’s still pretty special.
Thanks Chanterais, for a great comment. Perfume has helped me through a long sad patch too. And yes, as much as we might appreciate and learn from the past, we all have to live in our own times. I spent the day in Mitsouko, bought only about 6 months ago, so post-reformulation I guess. But gorgeous. To be accompanied most of the day but such beauty is a great, great thing.
Hey, the new Mitsouko edp is gorgeous! And fragrance has always helped me a lot over the years keep it together.
Oh, I would never make you sit by yourself, and you needn’t call up any bravery, ever, to give the opposing view!
And anyway, I’m in your shoes when it comes to Vent Vert, a fragrance which I smelled *first* long after it had been “ruined”. Now that I’ve smelled vintage and new, I do understand why the new makes long-time fans sad, but I can’t help it: I like new better. (Although when I say new, I mean what I smelled 5 years ago. No idea if they’ve “ruined” it yet again)
It seems to me that a good portion of what’s going on here has to do with disillusionment….disappointment in the comparisons. My first real exposure to Mitsouko is in the 2007+ incarnation and I love it, I’m not comparing it to another, greater Mitsouko…Diorissimo (from Mals’ next to most recent formula) is wonderful; again no comparison to an earlier model so no disappointment. I guess my point is it’s all relative. I’m happy to know the versions that I do, and I’m saving myself the pain and expense of seeking previous incarnations. And now I’m having a full out lemming for Debut……sigh.
For me coming into this as a nearly brand-spanking new perfumista (I’ve always liked fragrance but rarely had more than three or four department store frags for most of my years until my late 20s), it is so frustrating and hard to know that I’m falling in love with ghosts. With perfumes that were once vibrant earth-bound things that are now mere whisps of themselves and likely couldn’t even be identified by their original perfumer in a test strip lineup. Unless you can track down a few drops here or there for more than the market value of the current offering, you never know the former glory and richness of a fragrance. And yet I sometimes wonder if that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
I grew up just as the Glade/Renuzit/Febeze Empire effectively conquered the cleaning product cabinet of most households, as well as several office buildings, small businesses and an entire aisle in most department stores. Where every room and item in said room could be fragranced, and even if it wasn’t a remarkable fragrance, it was usually tolerable at the very least. We have been using scented products just as a matter of course as we did when we still lived with our parents. It was just part of cleaning that carried over to when my husband and I moved in together, and has stuck since no one in our household has allergies to them. It wasn’t until I ventured deeper into the world of quality fragrance, luxury home fragrance, niche perfume and making my own natural experimental products that it hit home how fragranced our world is. And in most cases I don’t mind.
Thanks to Daisy, I’ve been able to experience some beautiful fragrances that I’d otherwise not even think to try. But it’s a bit heartbreaking to love LOTV as I do and know that the Diorissimo that’s out there now isn’t nearly as deep and enchanting as the version from ten or twenty years back. But then do I even want to know the difference since it’s not like the older formulations are growing on trees.
Truly, it’s a double-edged sword. My hubby came home from grocery shopping the other day and proudly presented me with a new fragrance of fabric softener he discovered called Orchid Allure, which was quite a lovely surprise since we don’t always splurge on fabric softener and he isn’t usually as fragrance-obsessed as I. “Smell this! It’s fantastic!”, he urged, and upon my doing so,”Isn’t it great?” It was. But as has been mentioned so many times before in these comments, I first thought it smelled vaguely like a dozen other actual tropical floral perfumes I’ve tried. And then beyond that, how perfumes, due to such tight restrictions, have to be as clean, safe and nonoffensive as possible thus reducing them to smelling like the current hand soap or laundry soap I’m using. Sometimes I get overwhelmed by all the generic “scents of clean” that I find the most blandly fragranced washing powder and skip the fabric softener all together so I can feel like I’m putting on a unique fragrance alone rather than layering with my laundry soap, body wash, shampoo, etc. and smelling like a walking soap bubble. I think this is why I gravitate more toward orientals and gourmands now than I once did.
This cleaning up, sweetening up and fruit saturating going on in the industry is really confusing for me on a good day and downright maddening on a bad day i.e. being outbid for that ridiculously expensive original bottle of Organza Indecence yet again. Or trying to track down another bottle of Shalimar Light in the hopes that this time, I managed to find the *right* version or if not, that I’ll be able to return it. And then the question of whether an edt, edp, or parfum of a frag has been the least fiddled with over the years and which is the most likely to smell the closest to the original formulation…
I remember hugging my mother and smelling EL’s Private Collection for special occasions or Charlie on more casual days and just associating it with her whenever I smelled it again, spending time with my horse-training, chain-smoking, beautiful bad girl of an aunt who wore Lady Stetson like a sexy pair of cowboy boots or tight jeans, and my older sister’s treasured bottle of Tabu with the dark amber juice and black cap, and of how the entire upstairs would smell of the stuff before she went out on dates, or of my cherished little bottle of Avon Pearls & Lace when I was eight years old. All of these, while not necessarily something I’d wear today, were unabashedly (and sometimes aggressively) womanly. Even CK’s Obsession, YSL’s Opium and CD’s Poison seem like sultry vintage tigresses in the world of adorable, cute fruit filled cupcake pussycats out there today. And I will certainly confess that I do like a few of the fruity cupcake frags as they’re either what I grew up with, liked upon spritzing or were the easiest to find in our smallish city before I discovered the venus flytrap for credit cards that’s perfume shopping online.
I truly hope things in the perfume industry change for the better and soon because I’m running out of motivation to try all the classics. Not because I don’t want to, but because that’s precisely what they are, with all the difficulty locating them and their often prohibitive high cost. Even if they’re “still” around in one form or another, the original jewels have been replaced with lab creations that don’t have the same earthy sparkle. I loved Mitsouko when I first tried it, but spent a good deal of time wondering how it differs from the Mitsouko of even twenty or thirty years past.
There’s a definite increase in ennui now when I make it to my local fragrance counters. The genie’s out of the bottle and has doused me in Chanel and Guerlain and I can’t unsniff. There’s no time machine for us novices to experience the original incarnation of frags, so either we take our chances and hope to like the newest version or stalk the elusive and costly prey on Ebay in the hope of not being sniped.
Either way it does seem quite bleak, really, and just makes me want to splash on some Fracas, Angel or No. 5 and just love them as they are and be optimistic about the future. But just as Hollywood, cars, theater in some cases and even perfume demonstrates, more of a good thing isn’t always better and the golden age doesn’t last forever. Maybe Tennyson hit the nail on the head when he wrote of lost loves In Memoriam. I’d certainly like to think so. Sorry for the rambling, but this is such a difficult subject further complicated by my noob fragrance experience that I just wanted to contribute my .02%. 🙂
ACK! The below was supposed to be here!
I agree with Rapple, this is well-written and thought-provoking, as is much of the rest of the commentary on this post, including Robin’s. I think many of us have the sickening feeling that something precious has just slipped out of our hands, a diamond ring down the hotel shower drain…
I have twice fallen in love with recently-discontinued scents and gone a-chasing them on ebay, and it’s frustrating. Would I rather have not smelled them at all? No, my life is better, even if I have to nurse a single bottle along. And there *will* be other things to love, even as I have to let go of that last drop of the beloved juice.
(AS, I might be able to set you up with at least a decant of some Shalimar Light – PM me on MUA, I’m Mals86 there too. I now have, eek, bottles of each version – fruits of my ebay stalking. 🙂 )
AS, what a lovely comment, thanks!
A. S. – good commentary and well written. I enjoyed reading it! Thanks for sharing.
It’s difficult for me to adequately articulate my frustration and, most of all, my sadness over this reformulation subject – particularly related to the IFRA standards. It’s one thing to change a formula out of necessity due to scarcity of a material or some such reason – but entirely another because it’s been arbitrarily deemed to be offensive. It’s a hefty price to pay for ‘poitically correct’ perfume. *Sigh*
I think IFRA’s idea is that if they regulate allergens themselves, now, they’ll avoid some outside entity coming in and trying to regulate them, possibly in some more draconian fashion. Hard to see how it could get any worse, but that’s their point.
So that’s their story and they’re sticking to it? Whatever – it’s a bummer, period.
For what it’s worth (in other words, nothing, LOL), I don’t think they’re making it up.
Oh & as depressing as this subject is – the article and the comments have been beautifully written and heartfelt and so engrossing to read.
My late Babci would have loved this. She loved lily of the valley. Robin- my years and tears of frustration over reformulation of classics has just left me numb. No more to shed.
🙁
First off, kudos to everyone who’s gone before me on a thoughtful and thought-provoking discussion. Non-perfumistas (or perfumisters??? 🙂 ) for the male afficionado) would be shocked to discover what a significant marker, if you will, fragrance can be in a discussion of popular culture. Everyone knows music, art and fashion fulfill that purpose, but perfume does, too.
You’ve raised an interesting point in saying that perfume represents who we aren’t (and wish we could be) as individuals. I can easily see fragrance as a balancing factor or as a tiny, secret rebellion against what ‘they’ tell us we should be.
“They” say we should be thin and eat healthy. “We” react by smelling of dark rich chocolate, vanilla cupcakes, candied fruits and maple syrup. All the joys of gustatory excess with none of the calories.
“They” say Muslims are nothing but terrorists whose sole goal is to bring down Western civilization. “We” react by making ouds, loukoum, and desert-inspired scents more popular than ever.
Tell me those aren’t wee rebellions.
Robin, and others, I agree. I’m not interested in smelling like the product of a commercial laundry. No matter how toney the laundry and how expensive the products they use.
Life, in all it’s chaotic, earthy, sometimes smelly, splendor is being increasingly sanitized. In a restaurant, hospital, school, etc., I’m in favor of that. But when the day arrives (and I fear it will) that onions and garlic are agriculturally de-scented because someone in some restaurant somewhere has complained, I’ll be crushed. If I walk in the door of my house and it smells a bit of last night’s dinner (even if it’s fish and garlic bread), I LIKE that. I like that my dog has that wet fur and earthy paws smell when she comes in after a romp in the yard on a damp day. I like the petroleum/diesel/oil smell of the garage. I don’t want those things sanitized out of my life. Maybe they are germy and not good for me in some way, but they are a big part of my enjoyment of life.
I also agree with those who say that fragrances should be discontinued and decently mourned rather than being reformulated into unrecognizable dreck. I loved Givenchy’s gentle L’Interdit and wore it for years as a young woman. What they sell under that name now is awful. Not just awful by comparison to the original, but awful in and of itself. For gosh sakes, let the name die and let the scent be remembered fondly for the beauty it once was.
Like all of us, I still buy scents. Sometimes they are new ones, too. But I don’t have the passion for these new scents that I had for the older ones. I think that is directly related to the fact that they aren’t as deep or as complex as the older scents.
Another excellent commentary! Brava Teri. And…. germs are good for you! 😉
Hi teri, when you mention L’Interdit are you thinking of the 2007 re-release in Givenchy’s ‘Mythiques’ line? The quick spritz I got recently in a perfumery was okay, but I’d smelled too much that day to really be able to judge. I’d like to give it another go.
So sorry it took me so long to get back to you on this.
I believe Givenchy made an effort with the Mythiques to put out something similar to the originals. I’m only speculating, as I haven’t smelled them, but I did hear this from other educated sniffers who have.
I was referring to the reform they did in, I believe it was around 2002. It was so disappointing that I was actually fearful to try the 2007 versions. Silly, isn’t it?
Lovely comment Teri, thanks! Agree so much about all those wonderful “dirty” smells.
I actually really like Muguet Blanc, because I love LOTV in any form, and I can appreciate it for what it is. My favorite LOTV soliflore is still Muguet de Bonheur, older version of course, since I don’t think of Diorissimo as a soliflore – it’s in a class all by itself. Muguet Blanc is indeed very pristine, but that has its place too.
Glad another fan of MB showed up, thanks!
I love what you wrote. Don’t apologize for it. Perfume should have character, and an arc — beginning, middle and end. If it doesn’t, then it really is just linen water or room deodorizer. Even the perfume I drop on cotton balls or a hankie in my dressing area I expect to have an arc — to open with one complex impression, and move through several others successively more mellow before it dissipates beyond conscious recognition in about a week. How it softens and evolves is a big part of the pleasure.
I like complex perfumes too.
Finally got a chance to test this – it’s very, very pretty, but…being a Diorissimo fan, I found it too simple.
It’s hard to live up to Diorissimo!