Vintage Dior Diorissimo

If it isn’t bad enough that I haven’t been in the mood to blog lately, this past week I was presented with the quandary of wanting to wear only one fragrance: vintage Diorissimo, a sample of which came by way of perfume blogger (and all-around lovely) JoanElaine of Redolent of Spices. Vintage Diorissimo is acutely exquisite but, like most soliflores, does not lend itself to review. It’s not a fragrance that stirs the imagination and invites deep thoughts into its corner; it basically can be summed up in a small handful of words: lilies of the valley, cool and incredibly beautiful. I suppose most people consider it a Springtime fragrance, but I like having a touch of its chill glamour on my bare arms to see me through the last humid days of August.

As it requires little in the way of description, the only discourse I’ve summoned up for it is simply a meditation on beauty. Of which I might as well begin by saying that Diorissimo is not the kind of beauty I normally seek out. It’s perfection—really and truly—in a porcelain skin, porcelain smile kind-of-way, and while I’m thoroughly enjoying its Grace Kelly-coolness at the moment, I know that if I owned a bottle, it wouldn’t engage me for more than a week or two, here and there, throughout the course of a year. (Not that that has ever posed an impediment to me buying something beautiful before, but it’s a factor to consider.) Whether experiencing beauty via my eyes or my nose, it’s beauty that isn’t quite perfect—that has a crooked smile, too many freckles or a slightly wrinkled brow—that makes me fall in love with it. Here is where I’d like to put my tongue, I think to myself when I see a gorgeous man with a gap-toothed smile. Here, against this space. Here is the jagged scar on your throat I want to run my finger up against; the bump in your nose I want to kiss, the cluster of laugh lines that I will name and call mine.

If there are too many imperfections, or if there is only one but it’s disproportionately large, they mar and occlude beauty; but when they occupy the smaller part of that ratio—are noticeable without being overwhelming—they enhance it, making an attractive person, place or thing more unique, more memorable, and, seemingly, more approachable and warm. I often find them irresistible, as if they exert a force that says “own me, claim me,” though I realize this is not the case for everyone. A friend who was watching the movie Happy Accidents with me and my husband last week complained that the male love interest, Vincent D’Onofrio, did not have “movie-star teeth.” Apparently, Mr. D’Onofrio concurred with her assessment and, a few years after that film was made (back in 2000), had his teeth capped. A crying shame, in my opinion, not because I have any interest in him either way, but because there are apparently lots of women who feel the way I do about what's attractive; while Googling “Vince D’Onofrio teeth” I found a story about him in which the loss of his sensual mouth, after this dental work, was distinctly mourned, not just by the writer, but by hordes of his female fans.

Given the viewpoint I hold, it’s doubtful I’ll ever hunt down a bottle of vintage Diorissimo on Ebay. Might as well go dab on some Guerlain Jicky or Lush Gorilla Perfumes’ Breath of God pronto, yes? Except I don’t, of course: I sniff my wrist and breathe in the splendor of this perfume and realize that I’m not being all the way honest with myself. If this is a meditation on beauty, then perhaps I need to turn inward and ask, Just how wonderful do I feel about my own flaws? And given the chance, wouldn’t I like to return to Earth in my next incarnation looking a little—nay, a lot—more like Grace Kelly? And isn’t any concept about beauty, no matter how great, no matter how true it holds most of the time, rather limiting?

I’ve been wearing vintage Diorissimo for a solid week now. Yep, there’s my answer.

Launched by the fashion house of Christian Dior in 1956, vintage Diorissimo was formulated by the late, great perfumer Edmond Roudnitska (1905–1996) and has notes of lily of the valley, ylang-ylang and jasmine. Though still being produced and sold under the Dior label today, Diorissimo has been reformulated and most perfumistas agree that the current version can't hold a candle to the original. If you want to experience this landmark fragrance in the vintage version, get yourself to a decanter like ThePerfumedCourt.com or scout out a vintage bottle on Ebay. My sample of the vintage eau de toilette was given to me by perfume blogger JoanElaine of Redolent of Spices.

Photo: one of many famous images of Grace Kelly, found at the website OggyOsbourne.org.

Posted by Suzanne Keller, 8/29/2011.

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