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Friday, May 12, 2006
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Free Perfume!
Well, almost free. I had to pay shipping and handling, but the juice was free as a gift for writing reviews.
What is it?
Top Notes
Bergamot, Rose
Middle Notes
Jasmin, Spices, Peach
Base Notes
Oakmoss, Woody notes
Mitsouko means 'mystery' in Japanese. It was created by the House of Guerlain originally in 1919, but has been somewhat modified by the European Union's hysteria over Oakmoss.
Really. Okay, just about everything that exists is likely to sensitize *someone*. Eventually they're going to have to outlaw everything, because all of it with bother someone. I would much prefer it if they made frags in "regular" and "safe" versions, giving us all the option of making our own decisions about what we want to put on our skins.
Now, on to the review.
The first time I smelled Mitsouko on a paper strip, I was perplexed. I'd read all these reviews waxing poetic about it, but to me it smelled mostly like a liquid version of Pla-Doh. Salty, powdery, vanilla. First skin application, with much trepidation, was also disappointing. I couldn't wait to get the stuff off, because it continued to smell like Pla-Doh to me. I checked the reviews again: yes, this is supposed to be a feminine fragrance. Really? I didn't know that preschool odors were gender-specific. So if this stuff is feminine, then what is paste? It's got wintergreen; maybe it's Pour Homme. I pretty much gave up at that point, shaking my head at all the Mitsouko fans out there and wondering what they were smoking.
Then I got another little sample, this time of the pure parfum. The first whiff out of the bottle, and something clicked over in my brain. It was like my eyes were veiled, and suddenly the veil was lifted. A rush of endorphins went through me, I had the feeling of being peaceful, safe, secure, happy. What the HELL?!? But ohmigod, I needed to smell it again, see if it would happen a second time. I applied a tiny drop to the back of my hand. For the rest of the evening, I couldn't keep my nose off of my hand. Unbelievable. Yes, it still smelled of Pla-Doh. And yet...okay, here is the iris, here is the oakmoss. There is the bergamot, which means this is a Chypre that is definitely going to tweak my brain. Jasmine? Where? Peach? Okay, will have to take their word for it.
I finished my sample and I felt like I'd emptied the refrigerator or something: a sense of being very bereft of something essential to my wellbeing. Every whiff of Mitsouko continued to bring on that automatic response, the endorphins, the sense of peace and positivity. So now I have a big bottle of the stuff, it's mine mine mine. It's wafting up from my inner elbows as I type, like a private little sun-warm smile just for me. It's powdery in an utterly non-sweet way. It makes the powder in Rive Gauche seem sweet, that's how not-sweet it is. It is *salty*, honest and truly. And I still don't smell the peach, but there is this soft, skin-like hint about it. Perhaps that's the peach part. The oakmoss and bergamot vibrate together like a knowing chuckle: they've been doing this dance since 1919, babe, there's nobody that does it better. It's not the original Chypre, because that distinction belongs to Coty. It's a smiling, yet exacting, French perfume that happens to be Chypre in basic character. It's fascinating. It seems not so much to suit every mood as to alter every mood, to bring it around to something light and happy and secure. It's bubble baths and teddy bears, tweed skirts and silken lingerie, hand-knotted pearls and tarnished silver bangles. It's okay for any of it. It'll move with you, whatever movements you're making.
5:46:57 PM 
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© Copyright
2006
Melanie Teegarden.
Last update:
6/1/2006; 7:31:37 PM.
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