Oiro (2007)
by Mona di Orio

Oiro opens up with an intensely aldehydic floral accord that’s highly reminiscent of the early 20th classics from Guerlain . It’s thick, heavy, and heady, and immediately lets you know that it means business. The blend sweetens a bit as Oiro develops, and the aldehydes give way to indoles as voluptuous rose, jasmine, and tuberose take up the front line. The viscous and decidedly erotic floral accord at Oiro’s heart is a close cousin to Mona di Orio’s provocative Nuit Noire, but its indoles are less aggressively “dirty” than Nuit Noire’s and so less suggestive of fleshy decay. That’s not to say that this is a “clean” scent – not by any means! Oiro is as dense and weighty as Patou’s Joy or Caron’s Narcisse Noir, with nary a citrus or fruit note to add buoyancy. The drydown is powdery musk, thick vanilla/tonka and what smells like sandalwood, and endures for quite some time before it gently fades.

If the grand florals of the 1930s through the 1950s strike you as hopelessly old-fashioned “grandma perfumes” I doubt that you’ll enjoy Oiro. I can only imagine that Mona di Orio conceived Oiro as a tribute to the classic feminine florals and orientals of the last century, and I have to say it is very successful in mimicking their weight and tone. It seems to me a scent for formal occasions, to be worn by a mature and dignified woman in a satin and velvet gown. As a man I find it absolutely unwearable, and coming from someone who routinely wears the likes of Carnal Flower, that says a lot. Oiro is well made, and it refuses to bend to modern perfume trends. I suspect it may gain cult loyalty from certain connoisseurs, but I doubt it will be wildly popular, even by the limited standards of niche fragrances.