There is a lovely, half full vintage bottle of Mitsouko on my dresser. Bought it off ebay. First purchase from there in about five years. I thought it would be a nice initiation for me into this magical world of scent. I was beginning a journey and I wanted to have a milestone. A marker. A signpost. Mitsouko is supposed to be a classic. Go. Green light. So when I first "acquired" it, I jumped in, so to speak, into what I realize now was a dabbing frenzy. What resulted was a fetid stink that made me resigned to looking at the lovely bottle and I figured that was the end of it. Count my losses and move on.
The other day, I happened to sniff the sleeve of the sweater I was wearing during my Mitsouko encounter gone bad (I had quickly removed it to avoid contamination) and was amazed at the soft, peachy embracing notes that wafted heavenwards out of the fibers...this is more like it, I thought. This is what I had dreamt about.
Heartened, I placed two careful dabs, one on each wrist, and let the infatuation begin.
The next morning, bottle poised where I had left it as my designated scent for the day, I tried again, having gained confidence from our happy embrace the night before. But NO.
Fickle Mitsouko seemed to have run away from me again...it just didn't work for me.
Now I am afraid to open the bottle again. Not completely true. I sniff the inside of the stopper every once in a while, casually, trying not to get my hopes up. I like it from a distance. The cap smells good. It is like having a genie in a bottle , who , once released, messes up the room and you can't wait to stuff her back in again. Bottle looks pretty, smells pretty, but I am keeping my distance for a while.
The other day, I happened to sniff the sleeve of the sweater I was wearing during my Mitsouko encounter gone bad (I had quickly removed it to avoid contamination) and was amazed at the soft, peachy embracing notes that wafted heavenwards out of the fibers...this is more like it, I thought. This is what I had dreamt about.
Heartened, I placed two careful dabs, one on each wrist, and let the infatuation begin.
The next morning, bottle poised where I had left it as my designated scent for the day, I tried again, having gained confidence from our happy embrace the night before. But NO.
Fickle Mitsouko seemed to have run away from me again...it just didn't work for me.
Now I am afraid to open the bottle again. Not completely true. I sniff the inside of the stopper every once in a while, casually, trying not to get my hopes up. I like it from a distance. The cap smells good. It is like having a genie in a bottle , who , once released, messes up the room and you can't wait to stuff her back in again. Bottle looks pretty, smells pretty, but I am keeping my distance for a while.







