I first met Mitsouko during the winter of 1983. I was a 16 year old schoolgirl, working behind the perfume counter at Boots to earn money for riding lessons, and she was a beautiful Japanese woman who had no business frequenting an ugly shopping centre in Lewisham. From the moment I sniffed her beautiful, peachy aroma, I was entranced.
Admittedly, it was cheerful Diorissimo that became my first perfume purchase, but so taken was I with Mitsouko that she quickly supplanted Diorissimo in my affections, and accompanied me to university.
Back then I wore scent only for special occassions, and it was always Mitsouko I turned to. Mitsouko was my signature scent, and I was surprised to discover that she had been my mother's signature scent when she was young.
But my life changed, and in 1993, I felt like a change too. I was now onto my second bottle of Mitsouko - the parfume, this time - but found I was falling out of love with her. She had changed, and I wasn't enamoured with that change. Angel had just found her way to Britain, and quickly usurped Mitsouko's throne. She was young and fresh and different, and I fell head over heels for her.
But I soon found out that Angel was rather freer with her affections than dear Mitsouko. My best friend took a liking to her, and soon purchased the entire range, just as I had done. This soured me to Angel rather. I loved the scent, but I smelled her everywhere. How could she become my one and only when she was so promiscuous?
I flirted with other scents over the years. I discovered Basenotes, and a whole world of niche fragrances. I became promiscuous myself.
Mitsouko gathered dust in the back of my cupboard. Sometimes I took out the small bottle and applied her to my skin. Occassionally she delighted me, but sometimes she disgusted me too. Perhaps she had aged, and had become cantankerous and moody. Perhaps we had been together so long that we argued like an old married couple.
And then the little bottle ran dry. Should I replace her, I wondered? Or should I move on?
My decision was made for me, in Harrods Haute Parfumerie. I had gone there with the intention of purchasing Narcisse Noir, but they had run out. Mitsouko beckoned. They had the parfum, and though I nearly fainted at the price, I gritted my teeth and paid.
I had heard of the reformulations, and was concerned, but concern soon turned to delight when I applied her to my skin. She was as hauntingly beautiful as when I first encountered her at the tender age of 16. Warm, peachy, woody, nutty. She has become a favourite again. Perhaps no longer my signature scent, but queen of my harem. Welcome back, sweet concubine; you will always have a place in my heart.
Admittedly, it was cheerful Diorissimo that became my first perfume purchase, but so taken was I with Mitsouko that she quickly supplanted Diorissimo in my affections, and accompanied me to university.
Back then I wore scent only for special occassions, and it was always Mitsouko I turned to. Mitsouko was my signature scent, and I was surprised to discover that she had been my mother's signature scent when she was young.
But my life changed, and in 1993, I felt like a change too. I was now onto my second bottle of Mitsouko - the parfume, this time - but found I was falling out of love with her. She had changed, and I wasn't enamoured with that change. Angel had just found her way to Britain, and quickly usurped Mitsouko's throne. She was young and fresh and different, and I fell head over heels for her.
But I soon found out that Angel was rather freer with her affections than dear Mitsouko. My best friend took a liking to her, and soon purchased the entire range, just as I had done. This soured me to Angel rather. I loved the scent, but I smelled her everywhere. How could she become my one and only when she was so promiscuous?
I flirted with other scents over the years. I discovered Basenotes, and a whole world of niche fragrances. I became promiscuous myself.
Mitsouko gathered dust in the back of my cupboard. Sometimes I took out the small bottle and applied her to my skin. Occassionally she delighted me, but sometimes she disgusted me too. Perhaps she had aged, and had become cantankerous and moody. Perhaps we had been together so long that we argued like an old married couple.
And then the little bottle ran dry. Should I replace her, I wondered? Or should I move on?
My decision was made for me, in Harrods Haute Parfumerie. I had gone there with the intention of purchasing Narcisse Noir, but they had run out. Mitsouko beckoned. They had the parfum, and though I nearly fainted at the price, I gritted my teeth and paid.
I had heard of the reformulations, and was concerned, but concern soon turned to delight when I applied her to my skin. She was as hauntingly beautiful as when I first encountered her at the tender age of 16. Warm, peachy, woody, nutty. She has become a favourite again. Perhaps no longer my signature scent, but queen of my harem. Welcome back, sweet concubine; you will always have a place in my heart.
