The Nose Knows: 3 Diors
Sep. 19th, 2019 02:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
stonepicnicking_okapiThis is the fourth installment of my adventures in vintage perfume sniffing.
This week, I decided to tackle all the Diors in my sampler set: Miss Dior, Diorling, and Dioressence.
Miss Dior (1947) is a chypre perfume, according to Fragrantica 'woody, green, aromatic.' Though the sampler set I ordered is vingtage, I wonder (and not for the first time) if I'm actually getting the vintage versions because this definitely smells more like the 2012 reformulation, which is supposed to be patchouli based. Whatever. It stinks!
Diorling (1963) is also not a favourite. It is also called a chypre fragrance by Frangrantica. It is very floral but with that tangy undertone which (very happily) I am recognizing as what they call the 'leather note.' I am pretty pleased that my nose is getting a tiny bit more observant. But yeah the floral + leather makes for a sort of schizophrenic sniffing experiences. Nope!
And finally a winner.
Dioressence (1979) is one I can wear. Fragrantica calles it a floral aldehyde, the latter being an organic fatty compound which makes the scent. It also is described as 'warm spicy,' which is a fair descriptor.
So far, I'm keeping L'Origan by Coty, Vent Vert by Balmain, and the Dioressence.
And because, frankly, an ounce of pretension smells like a pound of manure, have a BBC Fem!Johnlock 221b with John suffering at the hands of some Dior perfume shop folks.
---
Sherlock heard the front door open. She inhaled and grimaced.
“John?”
“Yeah, yeah,” came the weary reply up the stairs.
“Good Lord.”
John appeared in the threshold to the sitting room. She removed a small notebook from her jacket pocket, walked to the desk, and dropped the notebook in front of Sherlock.
“Per request, interviews with all of the colleagues of ‘Mister Dior.’”
Sherlock’s expression was still slightly pained. John continued,
“They were, on the whole, a patently ridiculous lot. They called him a ‘Diorling’ and said he had the ‘Dioressence.’ They said it without irony or sarcasm. That’s just the way, I suppose, people who work in a perfume shop talk. It was supremely annoying. And they looked at me like I was a piece of chewing gum stuck in the tube of their collective atomizer.”
Sherlock frowned. “But?”
“But none of them knew about the accident, or the supposed accident, so I took it upon myself to tell them that ‘Mister Dior’ was ‘deader than a Dior-nail.’”
“Oh, John, you didn’t! In those words?”
“And they expressed their grief, or vented their rage, depending on how you view it, by spritzing me to near asphyxiation before I could get out of there!”
Sherlock stood and kissed John’s forehead and said,
“You are absolutely a-Dior-able, John. Now, please, go bathe.”
This week, I decided to tackle all the Diors in my sampler set: Miss Dior, Diorling, and Dioressence.
Miss Dior (1947) is a chypre perfume, according to Fragrantica 'woody, green, aromatic.' Though the sampler set I ordered is vingtage, I wonder (and not for the first time) if I'm actually getting the vintage versions because this definitely smells more like the 2012 reformulation, which is supposed to be patchouli based. Whatever. It stinks!
Diorling (1963) is also not a favourite. It is also called a chypre fragrance by Frangrantica. It is very floral but with that tangy undertone which (very happily) I am recognizing as what they call the 'leather note.' I am pretty pleased that my nose is getting a tiny bit more observant. But yeah the floral + leather makes for a sort of schizophrenic sniffing experiences. Nope!
And finally a winner.
Dioressence (1979) is one I can wear. Fragrantica calles it a floral aldehyde, the latter being an organic fatty compound which makes the scent. It also is described as 'warm spicy,' which is a fair descriptor.
So far, I'm keeping L'Origan by Coty, Vent Vert by Balmain, and the Dioressence.
And because, frankly, an ounce of pretension smells like a pound of manure, have a BBC Fem!Johnlock 221b with John suffering at the hands of some Dior perfume shop folks.
---
Sherlock heard the front door open. She inhaled and grimaced.
“John?”
“Yeah, yeah,” came the weary reply up the stairs.
“Good Lord.”
John appeared in the threshold to the sitting room. She removed a small notebook from her jacket pocket, walked to the desk, and dropped the notebook in front of Sherlock.
“Per request, interviews with all of the colleagues of ‘Mister Dior.’”
Sherlock’s expression was still slightly pained. John continued,
“They were, on the whole, a patently ridiculous lot. They called him a ‘Diorling’ and said he had the ‘Dioressence.’ They said it without irony or sarcasm. That’s just the way, I suppose, people who work in a perfume shop talk. It was supremely annoying. And they looked at me like I was a piece of chewing gum stuck in the tube of their collective atomizer.”
Sherlock frowned. “But?”
“But none of them knew about the accident, or the supposed accident, so I took it upon myself to tell them that ‘Mister Dior’ was ‘deader than a Dior-nail.’”
“Oh, John, you didn’t! In those words?”
“And they expressed their grief, or vented their rage, depending on how you view it, by spritzing me to near asphyxiation before I could get out of there!”
Sherlock stood and kissed John’s forehead and said,
“You are absolutely a-Dior-able, John. Now, please, go bathe.”