In perfumery, the list of scent notes and accords available to work from is long and all-encompassing, from sweet blossoms to tar. It seems fairly inevitable that there will be a note or two we find incomprehensible, if not downright repellant. My difficulty has been in understanding one of the greatest perfumery notes of all: the noble iris.
Very early in my days of becoming a devoted perfumista, I read a lot of comments about a fragrance in the Serge Lutens non- export line called Iris Silver Mist, created by Maurice Roucel. The perfume community was raving about this stellar masterpiece of perfumery, so of course I had to order a sample. I dabbed some on, and was immediately both transfixed and repelled. What on earth was this weird rooty smell? I wore it around that evening, taking whiffs, and decided if I ever wore it at all it would have to be to an avant-garde art opening of some kind, just to make a statement, and a slightly unpleasant, anti-social one at that. I didn’t exactly dislike it, but didn’t know why it was so beloved.
After smelling a few other iris-based scents I determined that iris was going to be a difficult perfume note for me to warm up to, The very popular Prada Infusion d’Iris seemed cold and foreign. A generously-donated sample of the famed Chanel #19 in vintage extrait was too weird to me: harsh, bitter, almost an anti-perfume. What was it about this cold, dreary, graveyard smell that everyone was waxing so rhapsodic about?(clique aqui para ler o artigo completo)
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