Perfume Directory

Teint de Neige (2000)
by Lorenzo Villoresi


Teint de Neige information

Year of Launch2000
AvailabilityIn Production
Average Rating
(based on 136 votes)

People and companies

HouseLorenzo Villoresi
PerfumerLorenzo Villoresi

About Teint de Neige

Teint de Neige is a feminine perfume by Lorenzo Villoresi. The scent was launched in 2000 and the fragrance was created by perfumer Lorenzo Villoresi

Teint de Neige fragrance notes

Reviews of Teint de Neige

Teint de Neige, loosely translated as Sprinkling of Snow, (literally, "snowy complexion") is one of Lorenzo Villoresi's best-selling fragrances.

Snow makes me think of Russia rather than of Italy, and sure enough there are echoes here of Red Moscow, the famous Russian perfume by Brocard (1913). That perfume, the original vintage of which I recently had the opportunity to smell, brings to mind the Russia of the Tsars and the opulence of a bygone era.

Teint de Neige is also an ode to the past. It recalls a vanished world of graceful living, where ballets were more lavish than they are today, attended only by the most distinguished, refined and impeccably dressed members of high society. Go behind the scenes and you may catch the scent of the dressing rooms where the starlets are powdering their faces.

Like Red Moscow, the Italian fragrance features rose, ylang and heliotrope. It is a very "powdery" perfume. What does that mean? Perfumers use the term for woody-violet or orris (iris) notes, long lasting and reminiscent of body powder, face powder or talc. In keeping with this, Teint de Neige is available as a body powder. Like a sprinkling of snow, it suggests softness and a caressing quality, plus an overall clean feeling.

Product evaluated: Beauty Soap (box of 3, see my pic). These soaps have an elegant faceted decahedron shape. Set off by their white box, they are the colour of pale sandstone or - yes - face powder. The scent, though not excessively strong, is diffusive enough to perfume your bathroom and even beyond, lending to your house the discreet aura of a classy establishment.
21st July, 2020
"Was there a baby here?" asked my colleague when she arrived in the shop to start her shift. Immediately after sniffing my wrist, she ordered a bottle for herself online. It was winter, with the sort of biting cold that makes you want to wear the softest of clothes, and draw a scarf up over your tickled-to-sneezing nose. She was smelling my treat from the night before, when I had babied myself with a bath, Teint de Neige, and a cashmere jumper.

There was a heavy snowfall one winter when I was a child. Most winters the snow only sticks to the mountaintops, so Irish children try to make the most of those one or two days when we can play in all that spotless white, before it melts and the grass pokes through. "It don't snow here, it stays pretty green" as Joni Mitchell sang. This particular winter, the snow kept falling, and drifting, and all the schools were closed, so we had many days of play and the whole white landscape to ourselves. The skin of my face and hands got whipped raw with the cold, though I didn't notice it at the time, and even if I did I wouldn't have stopped. My mother applied her rich, rose-scented moisturiser (Cyclax Moistura, in a purple pot; I buy it sometimes for the memory) to the scaly patches on my cheeks and knuckles, and I was struck by the emergence of roses in snow. Teint de Neige brings all that back, whenever I need it, with all the hypnotic, powdery power of a flurry of snowflakes.
13th August, 2018
The ultimate powdery fragrance. A hint of delicate flowers. Musky, dusty sugar. Teint de Neige oozes femininity.
It brings to mind many different scenarios, of the women who would wear this. Femme fatale to demure, young Miss.
18th June, 2018
Benefits Supervisor Sleeping by Lucian Freud 1995
12th September, 2017
Holy powder, Batman!

The name “Teint de Neige” translates not to the color of snow, as everyone previously thought, but to a snow-white complexion (it’s the extra ‘e’ missing at the end of Teint that makes all the difference). But whatever – the scent itself is both reminiscent of the color of snow and of the snow-white complexion that one might achieve with a mountain of face powder.

Teint de Neige takes a party balloon full of baby powder, rose, heliotrope, ylang, and white musk, runs up to you, bursts the balloon all over your face and then runs away again, laughing like a maniac.

Wearing Teint de Neige is an experience. You must submit in advance to being smothered with an avalanche of powder, or else you will struggle to fight your way from underneath it all, and you will clutch your throat and gasp for air. Think of it as having claustrophobia and knowing you have to take an elevator twenty flights up to visit your sick father. It’s a social contract between you and the elevator – a case of “I’ll agree not to scream if you agree not to hurt me too badly.”

Now, if you submit to Teint de Neige, you’ll see its shy, babyish beauty hiding under all of that powder. Stretch your legs out under its fluffy blanket of powdered almonds and rose petals, luxuriate in its incredibly fine, plush-toy texture, like the underbelly of a toy rabbit.

It’s a major psychological regression, you see, this perfume. You put this on because you yearn for the comforts of what you view as a simpler time, when your mother took care of everything and your only concern was finding Sesame Street on the 4-channel TV. Or you’re the kind of girl who dresses up in vintage tea dresses and housecoats from the 1940s, and powder your face with Yardley talc because you believe that all the good times were had in the past, and you’ve missed out on it all and you’re sad about that.

I totally see the nostalgic, slightly self-indulgent appeal of Teint de Neige. I understand the urge to travel backwards, to gloss over the past and look at things through rose-colored glasses. Life always looks much easier in retrospect. I used to date a guy from Sarajevo when I lived in Bosnia, and he – believe it or not – was nostalgic for how it used to be during the siege. He and his friends used to chance death moving from one person’s basement to the next, and the sense of togetherness and fun was incredible. I know his family regularly boiled grass for supper because that’s all there was to eat. But I still understood what he was nostalgic for. He was mourning a way of life that had disappeared once the war ended and they had their freedom again.

Teint de Neige is a beautiful memory of the past, wrapped up safely in a bubble of powder and innocence, and like any beautiful memory, there’s a sort of blind spot in our thinking faculties when we enter that bubble. But that’s ok. As long as I can admit to myself that I deliberately want to smell like a freshly-powdered baby or a heavily made-up 40s starlet sitting in a dancehall waiting for her beau, I should be fine. I submit myself to Teint de Neige, but knowingly, and with self-irony.
16th May, 2016
One of my very signature scents,i know, i know.. It's supposed to be a ladies perfume, but, as i have already 'preached" many times, i do not give a damn, i can pull it off, and i love it, and never thought that Gents/Ladies fragrances definitions were nothing more than marketing issues anyways!
That being said, yes it is the epitome of powdery, or (meant with no offense whatsoever) of talc and baby powder. So, what? I love and worship that note,i always have! And madly collect them! Who calls them "old" i am sorry, they are not a match with me. You cannot call old something like this. This is mundane, pagan and innovative, futuristic and yes also reminiscent of a lovely Art Deco's past. Would you hate that and call it old? Then you cannot appreciate the Arts, either! It doesn't speak very well of the person stating such or other derogatory terms to define powdery fragrances. It is just a matter of pure taste and of style and sophistication. You may be exquisite wearing Cool Water by Davidoff, i won't argue that, if that is what you think suits you! But, please, have some respect for decadence and decor, and lovely, rich Iris and Heliotrope which is one divine note, and yes, it can create an outburst of lovely powdery feelings! Baby powder as per se smells lovely clean, and, a bit bland. There must be some flower at least to convey tone to it! Here, the iris is potent, ylang ylang makes it a pagan sensation, and, at the end the Heliotrope's dry down confers a touch of divine. Over powering? No. Never. Red Rubies by Elizabeth Taylor or the original Fendi for women may be classified as overpowering, and , although likeable, i would say they indeed could be. But, Teint de Neige is far from the madding crowd! It makes me think of Julie Christie when she was in her 20's in a lovely exterior sublimated by the wonderful pastel notes so typical of her earlier movies, and so romantic and impossibly mysterious.
If it's not for you, that i can totally understand! But don't call it old or call it names just because you cannot understand it! I am sorry i am blunt and i speak my mind,no offense meant to anyone! This one i love, and, i wish there were more fragrances i love this much! And all the time! Mazzolari Alessandro is one of them, too, and so are Montale's Louve, Keiko Mecheri's Loukhoum and Guerlain's L'Heure Bleu. These are my top ones, well, along with Chanel # 19 both regualar and poudree' even better, actually!
30th September, 2015

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