Composed in 1987, Aria by Missoni is predictably as big as a house. In the 1980s, you see, fragrances announced themselves from around the block like a fat man with a protruding belly and you could smell them down the office corridor too long after the cleaning ladies had picked up after the staff (Missoni themselves had the now discontinued ~and replaced by a completely different animal by the same name~ Missoni by Missoni from 1982). For a fruity floral, the olfactory category equivalent of the shy type at the party who wants to blend in, yet appear a bit flirty like all the other girls, Aria is an unlikely candidate, a masquerade of a bold floral which dons a silly pineapple hair clip in case anyone takes her too seriously.
By no means dissonant, Aria is an euphoric big burst of a bubblegum actually, so suffused with flavourful florals and flowery fruits that it's easy to lose track and imagine things that are not there. The image of a giant, juicy fuschia bubblegum derives from the pink jasmine used, plus ylang ylang, which is buttressed by banana-pineaplle and peachy-lactonic notes. One edge is sweet, the other edge is rather tangy and the combined effect is melodious and expansive; the best of both worlds, really.
Aria never really caught many ears or noses at its time, probably because the brand wasn't particularly in your face and kept an elegant but vivacious Italian tricot profile, i.e. it never caught on the American market. Or it might have to do with the ugly bottle, a plain glass phial toped by a sincerely plastic purple cap that could adorn Debbie Gibson's Electric Youth or something. It just didn't feel like luxury, from the looks of it. Today, Aria by Missoni is discontinued, like much else from that time-frame: now that fruity florals are a dime a dozen it sounds like it's a shameful loss of especially good, happy jingles.
You can find old stock at stockists/online discounters or auction sites. There's even some at Amazon right now.
Notes for Missoni Aria:
Top notes: lemon, bergamot, pineapple, banana, raspberry, peach
Heart notes: carnation, tuberose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, lily-of-the-valley, rose
Base notes: sandalwood, tonka bean, amber, musk, vanilla and cedar.
For a lover of mimosa, spoiled on the honeyed powdery facets of Caron's Farnesiana or the cassie-rich musky-animalic meowing of Une Fleur de Cassie (F.Malle), Goutal's take on the yellow pom-pom flowers seems anaemic and watery; too innocent, too puerile, too fleeting... In fact, if you're looking for a "true" mimosa (like the one by L'Artisan Parfumeur Mimosa pour Moi with its violet and milky undercurrent) you will be crestfallen.
The mimosa blossom is a sign of spring hope, nature's awakenings, blooming as it does all bright yellow and proud in the end of winter and decorating the countryside with its shady branches that are carrying hundreds of yellow fluffy little bundles of joy; childlike, optimistic, bursting with energy and sweet smiles. Composed of the absolute of mimosa, a hint of iris, peach and white musks, the Goutal take on this floral scent evokes a delicate and subtle sweetness. (See also Calèche Fleurs de Méditerranée by Hermès for a fine rendition)
The impression of Annick Goutal's Le Mimosa is nevertheless much more of a soft, fuzzy peachy note that overimposes itself over a Johnson's chamomille shampoo and clean orange blossom accord, the latter dominating the heart of the composition. Curiously enough, the (natural) mimosa absolute raw material is there (indeed it shares facets with the above, plus anisic nuances), so this is definitely an aesthetic choice; probably in line with the intended coherence inside the Goutal soliflores line. Perfumer Isabelle Doyen and Camille Goutal (Annick's daughter in charge of the house now) envisioned a soliflore that is ethereal, much like the other soliflores in their line-up (Des Lys, Le Jasmin, Le Cheuvrefeuille etc.). Eau de Charlotte already a good dosage of mimosa as well. They were also thinking of the audience who buy Petite Chérie and Quel Amour by the bucketload, apparently. Clearly I am not among them, preferring the intensity of Passion or Grand Amour, yet I can understand the need to play around a material which is almost emblematic of France and Grasse [Follow my route along the mimosa road on this link]. Le Mimosa is not entirely without merit.
Annick Goutal Le Mimosa is available at Annick Goutal stockists from February 2011 onwards. It was announced as a limited edition. The bottle takes on a polka-dot ribbon in yellow and black for the occasion.
Notes for Annick Goutal Le Mimosa:
bergamot, anise, mimosa absolute, iris, peach, white musk, sandalwood
Painting by Greek painter Knostantinos Parthenis, The Apotheosis of Athanassios Diakos, c.1933
When back in 2000 we first started putting out the fragrances chosen by the rich and famous (and several historical personages in the mix as well, including royalty) we had been compiling for years in what culminated into the Fragrances that Famous People Wear list, we had no idea this feature would be so popular. Now it seems magazines online pick up on our crumbles and the rest of the celebrity frag listers by mentioning these date for easy-lazy reportage. The latest article on the Daily Gossip is just that, picking alphabetically a handful of names to kickstart an article about fans who want to fashion themselves about their favourite stars. If your favourite star is between Adriana Lima and Dita von Teese, you might find some suggestions to at least inspire your next sampling spree.
Among the perfume aficionados set you will find several types: The "I follow only fragrances costing upper of 300$ a pop or hard-to-get niches launched only in Rovianemi"; the "I worship at the shrine of Trish-au-four and everything else is just dog crap stuck on his sole"; the "Give me a good thick unwearable woody emblazoned with oud on the label and I'm set"; the "I chuckle through my fine mustaches as I drive thousands of people to sample expensive things which I semi-loathe, but they're the newest thing and I have to try it out first, don't I".
There are other less aggressive or opinionated ~take your pick~ types as well; from the well meaning housewife who is now living vicariously through her perfume cabinet (brandishing Bandit here and unleashing Fracas there), hidden underneath the mementos of her children who flew the nest for worthwhile pursues of their own (who knows, they might in turn hide a perfume cabinet underneath their university dorm sink!) or the businessman who is hearing tirades on software all day long and relaxes at home with a good old glass of whiskey and a dab of vintage Vetiver on his dressing gown. There is the fashionista type who collects all the latest designer fragrances building a collection, which hard-edge members of specialized fora might sneer at, but who knows her Dolce The One from her Chanel Coco Mademoiselle down pat and can give you a mean advice or two on how to pick stuff for gifts. A subset of that one displays her wares proudly on her dresser, to the amazement of all her friends who ask "do you use all that stuff?" like a clueless person would ask a wine collector whether they drink all that stuff.
There is also the seasoned kind of perfume collector who has become a bit bored with one's self over the years, constantly weeding stuff from the fragrance wardrobe, but at the same time continuously lured in by novelties that promise to be the revolution of the industry in a bottle or by unmissable bargains on an old standby which -guess what- won't be available that much longer.
There is the eager novice who desires to partake of the holy sacraments with an urgency approaching that of hysteria, yet feels unworthy deep down, trying to manipulate himself into liking a revered fragrant beast like Mitsouko instead of vice versa.
There is even the mock perfumista who posts on discussion boards about acquisitions but in reality hasn't even opened one bottle of perfume, setting them on the side for profitable meta-selling when the drive for the elusive has reached improportionate heights. And surely, there are uncharted waters which I might have missed.
Which is YOUR type?
mini perfumes tray collection via 1950s Atomic Ranch House and of bottles collection via Through my Eyes Beauty
Much as I was predisposed to at least enjoy the unashamedly girly Idylle Duetand dislike the sanctimonious (I thought) Shalimar Parfum Initial,both new releases by the historic house of Guerlain, the perfume gods tipped the scales off and landed me into a case of reverse hubris: I found myself being quite lukewarm on the former, while enjoying very much the latter! How's that for irony?
Indeed Shalimar Parfum Initial, credited to perfumer Thierry Wasser as well, is in almost an unrecognisable style to the other feminine release of this year: rich, satisfying, with a smoothly polished texture like silk moiré, it bears little relation to the anaemic and maudlin composition ofIdylle Duet. A sufficient dose of healthy scepticism had struck me like a ton of bricks upon setting eyes on the press release images of the new flanker to the iconic Shalimar: a pinkShalimar, for Christ's sake? Isn't anything sacred? My eyebrows were reaching the roots of my hair in exasperation! But upon testing the actual jus on my skin and letting the blotters, lavishly soaked with it, on my desk for some days I realised that, corny as it might sound, we're not to judge a book by its cover. Shalimar Parfum Initial is the brave, valiant and well-crafted effort of Wasser and Guerlain to present the house with their own Eau Première, much like Chanel did with their own numeric monstre. After all, much of Guerlain's prestige resides indeed with such venerable classics as Mitsouko and Shalimar.So, what's wrong with "Mon Premier Shalimar", the tagline for this flanker fragrance, assuming the juice is good? Absolutely nothing, that's what.
From a marketing angle, everything is set for success with Shalimar Parfum Initial, aiming at the target Guerlain is so keen on attracting, the fashionable 20-something to 30-something woman with money to spare: The warm pink-fleshy tint of the liquid is familiar to consumers of fruity and gourmand perfumes, attracting them by the token that the colour of the juice is indicative of something more than just a pretty shade. The boosting of citrusy notes up top (the synthetic bergamot is not wildly different than the one used in the reformulated classic, yet it smells more vivid and more vibrant here) give the necessary "freshness" that is a sine qua non for modern audiences. The lush vanilla and tonka ensure that the trademark sultriness of the seductive original is not lost nevertheless. The beautiful bottle (much sleeker in real life than in images) is tactile, friendly, yet imposing too; its deep blue cap with a tiny ribbon attached an homage to the classic design but also a pretty object that presents itself as something novel. Naked Natalia Vodianova posing in the advertisements of the perfume, shot by Paolo Roversi, is testament to the fact that both men and women stop to stare (and occasionally ogle) at a beautiful supermodel who promises sex at the wink of an otherwise nubile eye.All boxes checked for the marketing team, thank you very much!
The composition of Shalimar Parfum Initial focuses on a precarious balance: the standard oriental accord of bergamot and vanilla is fused with zesty orangeyand light notes which "lift" the base up much like Shalimar Lightdid with its lemon cupcake opening modernising the old standby admired on grandmas and mamas, but shyed away from my the daughters. Still, what would Shalimar be without the come hither? Guerlain quotes rose petals and jasmine for the floral elements, but it's essential to note that should you be searching for florals, you should look elsewhere: this is a wonderful and wonderfully oriental specimen with little flowery prose; all heaving, all sighing, with the seductive warmth of tonka beans (rich in the cut grass and hay note of coumarin) and of rich, caramelic vanilla pods on woods and what seems like the resinous opoponax. The addition of fresh, warm and sweetish white musk is something that would be polarising for the standard perfumista in search of more complex, "dirtier" musk, but the growling part is transmitted through the low hum of the smoky base that is as animalistically seductive as a rutting beast, just hiding beneath the subtle eroticism promised by the top notes. If I were to find a fault with Shalimar Parfum Initial it is that in essence it is no less than the 4th re-twinkinling of the tried & true Shalimar Light Eau Legere recipe in search of a frontman presenting it to the public now that Jean Paul Guerlain is exiled from his own house...
Shalimar Parfum Initial is available as 40ml, 60ml and 100ml of Eau de Parfum concentration, available from major department stores.
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By no means dissonant, Aria is an euphoric big burst of a bubblegum actually, so suffused with flavourful florals and flowery fruits that it's easy to lose track and imagine things that are not there. The image of a giant, juicy fuschia bubblegum derives from the pink jasmine used, plus ylang ylang, which is buttressed by banana-pineaplle and peachy-lactonic notes. One edge is sweet, the other edge is rather tangy and the combined effect is melodious and expansive; the best of both worlds, really. 
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