Okay, so it is spring for most of you, but read on.
Most of us know what it is like to associate a certain perfume with a particular time, event or person in our lives. The summer that you met your future partner was the summer you were wearing Kenzo’s Flower, or EL’s Pleasures (or whatever) every day, and just once whiff brings back that wonderful time. Mostly this happens by accident, but sometimes you can predict it. Dee recently had to decide what perfume to wear on the day she was to say goodbye to her family dog. The problem in such a situation is how to choose a perfume that is suitable, and comforting, without ruining it for the future.
I have recently fallen hard for Dior’s Diorella. A chance remark by perfume pen-pal Barbara, in a blog post on green scents, sent me back to it. I had spritzed it in a shop once before and had thought: ‘Mais oui! Very nice, very French, trés chic!’, but somehow I was not moved. The fact that it is generally only available in quite expensive 100 ml bottles probably had something to do with that!
This time I meandered over to eBay and had a look. Snap! A nearly-full 10 ml mini, going at a bargain price, was mine. Dior used to produce these very useful little bottles for several of its perfumes; I have one in Miss Dior as well. I wish I knew when they went out of production (please comment if you do). I don’t know how ‘vintage’ my Diorella is, but no later than the 1990s, I’d say. Anyway, bottle and juice turned out to be in tip-top condition.
Famously, Diorella combines the bracing citrus of Eau Sauvage with a very sexy, over-ripe fruit accord that her more restrained older brother perfume knows nothing about. Look at that gorgeous woman that Christian Dior’s friend René Gruau created for Diorella. Isn’t she wonderful?
I have been wearing Diorella about every second day. Normally I try not to do this with a new perfume because I fear that I will tire of it within weeks. But this time I’ve thrown caution to the wind. Soon it will be winter. I’m not sure that Diorella will wear well in the cold; perhaps, but in any case my winter scents will demand to be worn. So while our lovely autumn weather holds, I’m sticking to Diorella.
Why not? John Keats knew autumn as the ‘season of mists and mellow fruitfulness’, which fills ‘all fruit with ripeness to the core’. So if, from now on, autumn is always the season for Diorella, I’ll be happy.
What about you? What memories, good and bad, are conjured up for you by perfume?