Originally Posted by cello
Rogalal, you crack me up. But this is the best way to be!
Thanks... I'm pretty sure most of us, as children, tried mashing up flower petals in water to make "perfume". But, to be fair, perfume manufacturers encourage the mash-enough-flowers thinking by their insistence that it takes an acre of flowers to make a tiny bottle of something. Forget promises of seduction, I think the huge field of flowers in every bottle is probably the most over-used cliché in the perfume business...
Anyway, I generally try to sample a bunch of things by one house all together. It's fun that way, but I've managed to amass a little collection of weird individual samples, especially bizarre unknown scents that I never get around to sampling. So, I think it's time to go on a little binge of weird little rarities. With that in mind, today I've been wearing Mistero
Calé is apparently a perfume store in Italy that carries a bunch of traditional niche lines as well as a line of their own scents. Mistero
is their masculine offering. It typical Italian style, their scents are based on flowery historical stories and pieces of art, with the exception of Mistero
, which is based on the rather abstract theme of the kind of man a man wants to be (If you read their blurb, they're clearly trying for something highly conceptual, but I think it may be losing some of its drama in translation...). Well, apparently, a man wants to be an oak tree.Mistero
manages to boast one of the most confounding note lists I've seen in quite some time, encompassing mint, rhubarb, basmati rice
, pimento, oakwood, oud, and many, many other notes that make no sense together. All that being said, I mostly just smelled the oak all day. It was a dry, dusty wood smell with a hint of sour green in the background. By the afternoon, it had revealed a more fruity facet, which reminded me specifically of red Froot Loops cereal. I'm assuming it was the rhubarb mixing with the rice, but it definitely had that dry cereal smell, mixed with a sort of artificial red fruit (froot?
) flavor. But, in a way that's impossible to describe, it still smelled like oak. Somehow, the dry cereal smell was just a facet of the larger dry, dusty oak smell. Towards the end of its lifespan, Mistero also took on a rosewood component. Not the rosewood that smells like antique paper, but the rosewood that smells like freshly-cut teak.
I'm a sucker for wood scents, but the dry dusty quality of Mistero
never quite won me over. For comparison's sake, Timbuktu
makes me feel the same way - I should
like it, but its dryness just doesn't speak to me. Though it technically did progress over the course of the day, Mistero
felt a little bit like a one-trick pony. But if you're looking for something unabashedly oaky, or you're just sick of textbook cedar-based niche wood scents and want something with a different focus, it may be perfect. But if you're looking for the wild ride promised by the flowery prose and the crazy note list, don't get your hopes up too high...