Mystra Aēsop

Anyone traveling from Tallinn to St. Petersburg crosses the Estonian-Russian border at Narva, the easternmost city of Estonia, located by the river of the same name. When we arrived there by bus in 1994, we felt a bit uneasy, even though there was no reasonable cause for it: Perestroika had been underway for almost a decade, and I had even traveled through the dying Soviet Union a few years earlier without any issues - though in a large group and invited to a festival. Still, the old Soviet feelings seemed to be reliably present.

In Narva, on the west bank of the river, very close to the road, stands the Hermann Fortress, the eastern outpost of the Teutonic Order since 1345. Its advance had been halted a century earlier when a Russian army under Alexander Nevsky dealt a devastating defeat to the Order's knights just about a hundred kilometers south on the frozen Lake Peipus. This event was immortalized by director Sergei Eisenstein in his film 'Alexander Nevsky,' and Sergei Prokofiev later adapted the music into a cantata (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1k-D1EoAb8; the battle scene starts at 16:17, and at 26:00 the ice breaks under the armored men).

On the Russian side, directly opposite the Hermann Fortress, stands its defiant counterpart, the Ivangorod Fortress, built at the end of the 15th century. And despite the many ages that have passed since then, the two seemed to be a visible echo of ancient enmity in the early morning twilight, fitting our mood. However, who would have guessed at the time that we were in the brief window of years when - at least in my experience - one could visit Russia without too many concerns.

I mention the image of the two castles because Mystra initially reminds me very much of Casbah (= fortress) by Robert Piguet in character. Casbah was the only fragrance that my wife described so horrifically even ten hours after application that I had to wash it off, certainly an impressive feat for a perfume. I also found it extremely difficult.

I didn't have to wash off Mystra (barely...), but the idea that the fortresses named Casbah and Mystra were on each wrist for testing purposes and would clash with each other for a day... Phew! Unbearable.

For Mystra starts off completely unapproachable. The opening is an endless affront in character, intensity, and duration. Bitter. Sour. My favorite colleague thought of spoiled soup. Against this smoke, even the stricter clerics like "Cardinal" seem like gentle cuddlers. My first encounter with the extra portion of mastic was in 99, Regent Street by Hugh Parsons. With a less than enthusiastic conclusion. Mystra is not suited to evoke more sympathy.

More significant for my perception of the fragrance is, of course, that I hardly notice the three-smoke trinity identified by Yatagan, either significantly shifted. Until well past the seventh hour, the harsh-sour-repelling tone is clearly at the forefront for me. I am back at a fortress that towers high above the city, a blend of protection and subtle threat. Although the fragrance grants a hint of grace after noon, this is relative; nonetheless, it is likely to be accepted with crawling gratitude by the long-resisting wearer. It becomes more approachable, but still not approachable.

Well, after an aeon-long fragrance development, an extremely reduced version of 'pleasant' is gradually reached after about eight hours. Provided one can even speak of a hard, almost visibly present incense. Anyone wanting to wear the fragrance in the evening should apply it by noon at the latest.

If Casbah was the first antagonist, in its partial similarity like a picture of two fortresses, there are several others, this time in their distinctiveness: Classic Myrrh by Von Eusersdorff with its cream, the meditative Hinoki by Comme des Garcons, the blazing incense supernova Rundholz 1968.

This, in turn, is the reason why I am fascinated by Mystra despite its undeniable repulsiveness. Anyone who can be so contrary to several others is, of course, absolutely unique. I will definitely not acquire the fragrance, as I wouldn't want to wear it. For what occasion, anyway? But I enjoyed testing it and thank noirceur for the sample.

So, let's take a breath.

Ah, today I could have used more than one exorcism. I had to rush out of the house in extreme haste and nothing worked out at all.

Beforehand, I quickly dabbed some Mystra on my arm. I was expecting such an annoying day and thought it could be a little comfort, a small Fille en Aiguilles.

No! Here, unpleasant-tasting medicine is administered. The scent strongly reminds me of valerian tincture. Bitter, astringent, dark. I would have preferred valerian tincture; with about 60% alcohol, it would have truly calmed me down. On top of this scent, there is also a very resinous note of incense. Past times, that's how I imagine a doctor's office hundreds of years ago. Healing tinctures, whose effectiveness seems questionable, and moments when the priest was called in with incense when nothing else worked anymore.

An experiment, a fragrance that surely tells a story. But not a scent that I feel comfortable with or want to wear.

Uncommented Scents No. 27

Goethe was inspired while writing the third act of his drama "Faust. The Tragedy Part Two," which takes place in ancient Greece, by a visit to the Byzantine ruins city of Mystra. However, Mystra is not an ancient city; it was established only in the High Middle Ages (13th century). The city experienced a glorious period that lasted several centuries, ending around 1770. The true charm, the aura of Mystra, which likely led to a fragrance being named after this city, paradoxically stems from its decay. Often, it is precisely the morbid, the aura of a glorious past that is more interesting than the supposedly beautiful, as it opens spaces for the imagination: what could be? And thus, the motto of this fragrance is already hinted at.

Mystra is an extraordinarily bold composition. Too bold to have lasting presence in this manufacturer's portfolio, even though Aesop certainly does not belong to conventional fragrance producers. While Mystra is still available in perfume concentration, it is no longer offered as Eau de Toilette.

The reference to Mystra, the Byzantine ruins city, is evidently not a random choice or merely due to the beautiful sound of the name. The manufacturer refers on their website to the scent components typically found in Byzantine churches: labdanum, incense, and mastic. This heavy, bitter mixture dominates the fragrance from beginning to end. Although there is a scent development from bitter-green to smoky-sweet, the character itself changes only slightly, remaining more or less true to its sublime, almost religiously reminiscent resinous-sweet-bitter effect.

This idiosyncratic-mystical aura is further intensified when one realizes that the main components of the fragrance have significance that goes far beyond the ethereal-aesthetic effect: incense was considered and still is in many cultures as an offering to God, mastic has a proven medicinal (antibacterial and antiviral) effect, and labdanum was already used in antiquity as incense. All three resins are mentioned in the Bible.

Why a manufacturer could come up with the idea of composing a fragrance almost exclusively from these three heavy resins (smoky, bitter, and sweet) remains ultimately a mystery. Despite all the fascination that such a combination exudes, the perfumers must have also realized that this cannot be a fragrance for everyday wear, that the scent develops a rather idiosyncratic aura even in the evening, and that it eludes categorization as a pure women's or men's fragrance from the outset, thus placing it far from the mainstream.

So who can or wants to wear this fragrance? In my view, Mystra is a scent for the wearer themselves, for a foggy, damp autumn or late winter day when one reluctantly leaves the house, perhaps only to feel the fresh air for a short time during a walk and to enjoy the gentle, leisurely development of the fragrance, which oscillates between the three base components of incense, mastic, and labdanum.
A fragrance for myself, which does not need to be perceived by others.

The idea of the ruins city Mystra serves as the ideal backdrop for a fantasy journey that transports the wearer under the cloudless sky of Greece, to Faust's marriage to Helena, and into the dark-golden vault of a Byzantine church.

Despite or perhaps because of its cumbersome appearance, the fragrance is a small Gesamtkunstwerk, whose effect is also completed by the box with its simple inscription in Latin and Greek letters and by the apothecary bottle in typical brown glass. If the fragrance were still available, it would certainly soon find a place in my collection.

Almost unnecessary to mention, Luca Turin emphatically praises this fragrance in his "A - Z guide Perfumes" and awards it four out of five stars.

A heartfelt thank you to the Parfumista, to whom I owe the sample of this fragrance.