Wearing the new Dolce & Gabbana Velvet Mughetto reminds me of a lesson that’s often taught on writing courses, about how the tone of a sentence can be transformed by the order in which its separate components are placed. So for instance, I could say that Velvet Mughetto highlights how difficult it is to create a convincing lily of the valley at this moment in time, but it makes a commendable effort to rise to the challenge. Or I could say that Velvet Mughetto makes a commendable effort to create a convincing lily of the valley, but it highlights how difficult a challenge this is at this moment in time. Take your pick: neither of the options is untrue.
The sad reality is that pretty much all modern lily of the valley compositions are ‘faux lilies’. Using one trick or another, they do their best to disguise the fundamental absence at their core: the absence of a truly believable lily of the valley note. Yes, Edmond Roudnitska couldn’t have made Diorissimo without his genius and his experience, but it didn’t hurt that he also had some useful aromachemicals at his disposal — aromachemicals which perfumers wouldn’t be permitted to use in quite the same ways today. A few years ago, Jean-Claude Ellena tried to get around the problem in Hermes Muguet Porcelaine by dousing it with watery lychee. Daniela Andrier attempted to resolve the issue in MiuMiu by adding a sea-swept saltiness. And if one of my interviews is anything to go by, Frederic Malle has decided to deal with the conundrum by ignoring it altogether.
Now along comes Velvet Mughetto, composed by Sidonie Lancesseur, and sure enough, it uses a trick of its own to try to solve the lily puzzle. Namely: magnolia. As far as floral notes go, this one leans closer than most to aqueous regions, which is probably why it serves to disguise the shortcomings of any materials that are used to evoke a lily of the valley. It can also display a gauze-like quality, which, again, is useful for concealment. When combined with a hefty dose of musks and citrus notes, the overall effect is never less than pleasant, but it’s also too fuzzy and illegible to be truly memorable: a haze of scent, rather than a nail-on-the-head expression of an idea. So, like I said at the very start: a game attempt, but not a resounding success. The quest continues.
[Review based on a sample of eau de parfum provided by Dolce & Gabbana in 2020.]
Persolaise
—
If you’ve enjoyed this post, please consider supporting my work
by ‘buying me a coffee’ using the panel below.
Thanks very much indeed.
—
Discover more from
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
I enjoyed this review, very nicely worded 🙂
I’m struggling a bit with the Malle interview. Doesn’t Lys Mediterranee, apart from the genuine lily, open with lily of the valley? So a LOV scent wouldn’t really have been an absolutely new addition to the line. Of course, LM is aequous, too…
Do you know Nicolai’s Odalisque, which I think has a convinving LOV note? Do you believe that note has noticeably worsened in the modern edition?
Kind Regards,
Sebastian
Sebastien, thanks very much for taking the time to write, and for the kind words.
Interesting point about LM; I confess, I’ve never thought about it in terms of lily of the valley. And as for Odalisque, I haven’t smelt it for years. That would be a good one to revisit, I think. Thanks for the tip!