Post by Chairman Meow
Missoni Women by Maurice Roucel and Trudi Loren for Missoni 2006
Photo Stolen Fragrantica
Fragrantica gives the following accords:
Top: bergamot, mandarin, orange
Heart: magnolia, peony, rose, Japanese apple
Base: pear tree, chocolate, hazelnuts, amber
What is immediately striking about Missoni is its dual temperament, with both fresh marine and toothsome dessert facets. You immediately start to mentally bandy around words such as “dichotomous” and “personality disorder”. The mind gently boggles as you inwardly spin that fragrance wheel and a struggle ensues to neatly taxonomise the thing. What is this? Is it a gourmand? Is it an aquatic? Is it an aquatic gourmand? Is the answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe and Everything really 42?
The chocolate is cocoa rich, nutty and heavy, and sits uneasily atop a transparent, calone-laden scent (please do forgive me for dropping the C-bomb, I appreciate it’s a dirty word). It’s the oil in an unshaken salad dressing, queasily yawing and pitching but never quite melding (it probably didn’t help that I was in the throes of food poisoning when I was reviewing this). Citrus is present, but it’s done with a light hand. Its combination with chocolate invariably draws comparisons made with Jaffas, or other orange flavoured chocolates. Whilst it does contribute a slightly tart aspect to the scent, what is more striking to me is the somewhat exsanguinated pear accord, actually very reminiscent to me of a nashi pear. In fact, take Missoni, remove the Nutella accord, and I believe it would have made for a wonderful Pleats Please by Issey Miyake, in which the nashi pear is a central player.
Give Missoni just a few short minutes, however, and a sort olfactory alchemy starts to take place. Eat a chocolate dipped strawberry, and the initial sensation is akin to having two different dishes in your mouth, with the waxy chocolate bits jostling with the watery fruit blobs but not really coming together to form a particularly satisfying mouthfeel. Just as you start to wish you had picked off and eaten the chocolate first, the whole thing magically amalgamates into delicious choc-berry goop whose sum is inexplicably greater than its parts. And so it is with the Missoni. The chocolate mantle becomes softer, sweeter and less distinct, and the pear starts to take on a little colour to its cheeks, fleshed out with some flowers. Before long it all emulsifies, and makes much more sense. You can still pick out the warm and cool elements if you really thought about it, but by that time the olfactory lithium has kicked in and it all seems rather besides the point. It just smells… good. Somehow.
In true Missoni style even the sillage is a little deranged, throwing itself off the skin in admirable fashion whilst still managing to smell polite. A non-tantrum-throwing diva, if you will. As it wheezes its death rattles at the end of its 4-5 hour life on my parched skin, its aquatic side is nowhere to be smelled, smouldering instead with the embers of a fruity-amber affair.
Missoni shouldn’t leave your colleagues diving for cover, just don’t be fooled by its demure demeanour and do apply with a lighter hand than expected.
Until next month,