When I “met” Dior’s Mitzah for the first time, I thought to myself, “Oh, I know all about you,” and quickly dismissed it as redundant. It smelled like my perfume cabinet, a mix of many of my favorite things—very nice, yet utterly familiar. Mitzah was written off, perhaps a little too soon (if my dwindling decant is any indication), and I moved on. Not all Deja vu experiences are the same.
Birgit sent me a sample of the precious liquid that is Frapin 1697–precious because it’s a limited edition (1697 bottles in all creation), it’s expensive, and, more than anything else, it means a lot to her. Sitting at my desk on the day of it’s arrival, curiously examining the innocuous looking little vial, I carefully crack it open and lean in for a preliminary sniff…
sharp intake of breath, a whoosy, intoxicated feeling–disorientation, falling, joy and heartache, a sense of pleasure and eminent loss… I catch my breath and pull my head away.
It’s deja vu. A deep, collective unconscious kind of deja vu.
It’s a beautiful stranger passing you in the city. You lift your head and eyes meet for a moment that lasts an eternity—a “what might have been” glance passes between you, spanning a fraction of a second, and, without missing a beat, you move on. There’s a dissonance inside you that you can’t explain; brushing it off you refocus your attention, and the moment is lost.
This is Frapin 1697.