IRIS POUDRE

3/3/15

Iris. Tonka bean. Vanilla. Musk. Sandalwood. Vetiver.

When I first applied Iris Poudre, my first reaction was that of a sulky pout. I felt like a powder puff had exploded next to me, drenching me with a cloying vapor of soapy sweetness and talcum. Having adored Malle’s Lipstick Rose from the get-go, I had been anxious for another fragrant miracle. HOWEVER, it did not take long for that overly-aldehydic opening to sweep its stage curtains aside, revealing the layered and exquisite set behind.  Powder morphed into silky cream; the view that was blocked to me by the dense forest opened up to the majestic vista beneath. Bravo! And complexity! Like the triumphal scene from Aida, there is so much going on.  The iris becomes so much more tangible, swathed as it is in musk, softness of vanilla, dusky warmth of sandalwood and a pinch of pepper. It feels like walking barefoot through a scented and hidden grove that you have happened upon and where nothing else is stirring.  The changes within the wearing time, which is 6-8 hours on my skin, are profound and discernible.  Some perfumes seem to smell pretty much the same from first spray to final dry-down, but not this.  I love it when a cherished scent fills the car as you drive, not in a nauseating or impertinent way, but almost as a tour guide to add depth and nuance to the scenery.  Great perfume just makes everything feel better.  And although markedly different, I see a relationship between this and Lipstick Rose.  Sisters they are not, but rather cousins, different in style and temperament; Lipstick the vixenish brunette of the night, a seductive temptress in her lair of velvet and furled cigarette smoke, Poudre her blonde bombshell of a distant cousin, more alive during the day; the resort queen, resplendent by crystal waters.  What they both share is a vintage-era slinkiness; the blonde and the bronzed, the doe eye and the smolder.  I start to imagine wearing different clothes, my hair is a different color, my car certainly not a Prius! The point is, you can almost believe that you can perceive, in essence, the spirit of someone that isn’t you.   As Roja Dove says, “Perfume can make the lady of eighty feel as though she is eighteen again.”  This perfume is the conjuring of a bygone era.

Rating: 4 bathing suits sunning on the Riviera.