I just bought my first flacon today of MISS DIOR ORIGINALE, in the EDT, which is, as you probably know, a current version of the original 1947 formula. By now there are so many flankers that one has to very carefully specify the !!OH-REE-ZHEE-NAHL!! if one wants the 1947 formula, then of course most modern department store SA's have no idea that there had once been a Postwar New Look flavor of it. All they know is the cute cherry-vanilla-pomegranate version that Natalie Portman moues over.
By happenstance, I do indeed have a tiny decant here also of some real vintage EDT from the 1960's. Yes, the two are different, and I cannot tell if it is because the 1960's EDT has turned slightly, but the basic idea is the same: an impeccable, oldschool French green/floral/chypre. The vintage decant I have here is really strong on the herbality.. specifically a kitchen-y herbality in the drydown, that reminds one pleasantly of Mommy things like fines-herbes and poultry seasoning. The old version starts out vampy... then ends up not as bordello broad but as June Cleaver. I actually suspect the noses, Jean "Tabu" Carles and Paul "Arpege" Vacher, intended to make the drydown reassuringly domestic: a woman of Midcentury was to wear New Look to church, then come home and fix hubs some din-dins.
The current ORIGINALE EDT sails in on nose-prickling needles of stimulating aldehydes, galbanum and perhaps an astringent lemon-zest note, a head even more Cruella-de-Vil vicious than BANDIT's; as that gauzy veil subsides, one gets an astonishing savory "protein" note; where DIORELLA merely hints at Tania Sanchez's Vietnamese Beef Salad, MISS DIOR offers you the whole charcuterie. I am tempted to say that this "protein" note is derived from a confluence of Russian birchtar, with its let's-have-shashlik note, and quite possibly some iris, heliotrope, turmeric and cumin? All the while, the lemony brilliance of the head peers over the New York strips.
The floralcy unfolds, all tart jasmine, creamy gardenia and narcotic, lowing tuberose, with a curious hint of dusty narcissus, with a salon-filling eclat that gives ALIEN and FRACAS a run for their money. Notes of cedar, sandalwood, patchouly, oakmoss and tonka arrive at the vernal picnic, with their promise of a chypre scaffold. The tonka note sings its little cherry-almond-tobacco alto through the dense, saged, all-but-opaque flowers. (Interestingly, I never get the "naughty knickers" note that many have claimed for MISS D.)
In time, the most handsome, tweeded woman arrives in blonde Hitchcockian chignon, and an unexpected, winsome neroli kisses her glacial hand. And there we have the majesty of the scent, the 1950's "Ice Princess" in white gloves and a tightly woven, somewhat heavy and rigid, but immaculately suave and tailored Dior New Look suit, with patent leather spectator heels.
In farthest drydown the narcotic flowers and the poultry seasoning get married, yielding a fascinating, buoyantly luminous tart/savory accord that is like nothing like anything a modern Carly Rae Jepsen/Bieber fangirl would ever dream of wearing.
The ghost that lingers on your skin many hours later, is that note I so well remember from my childhood: my father's secretary-- surely the model for Joan Holloway, with her bursting poitrine, ample bottom, bakelite bangles and mile-high Titian beehive-- was named Dolores... "Dolly" to 5-year-old me, who would sit on her lap, bury his face in her decolletage, and sing "Hel-lo, Dolly, well hel-LO...." She always gave off the most curious, savory dough like smell... not sweet like L'HEURE BLEUE's Christmas Pannetone, but very very much like....... flour tortillas, fresh from the comal.
That intriguing, unmistakeably oldschool flour-tortilla note enchanted me then on Dolly's white, powdered throat... and it enchants me, nostalgically, now.
This EDT is very strong, sharp and dominating; really, two spritzes is enough... Otherwise she will wear YOU.