Miss Dior Dior Eau de Toilette Originale

It requires no clairvoyant abilities, just a glance at the assigned score, to recognize that I am thrilled by this fragrance and an enthusiastic comment awaits the inclined reader. However, for the sake of good order, two limitations (or rather guidelines) must be stated upfront: Normally, before a laudation like the one intended here, I would test for several days; in this case, I have limited myself to two days (under somewhat altered conditions) on the skin and a separate attempt on a cotton handkerchief (my old gray one from my Bundeswehr days, still in top shape). In times of epidemics, abbreviated procedures apply. And the fragrance to be celebrated here was purchased by me in the souk, where it was offered as "Miss Dior Originale EdT," although the sample was labeled "Miss Dior EdT Vintage," which leaves open the remote possibility that I had the original original from 1947 in front of my nose. However, I actually don't believe that, and the difference in the formula is supposed to be minimal anyway.

That said: Miss Dior ranks among the very, very great "old" Diors for me, right at the front! Diorella is undoubtedly already very beautiful, Diorissimo a delightful, wonderfully fragrant lily of the valley scent (which, however, suits Frau von Spee better than me), with Dioressence it’s a bit of a mixed bag: The original, no longer produced today, is the most beautiful, most perfected, most complete perfume I have ever had the pleasure of smelling (thanks to a dear fellow perfumer); the current version is still excellent, but each time the gap to the original version stings a little. Miss Dior, probably the first fragrance in the line, although perhaps not as perfect as Dioressence, is the one I immediately and absolutely fell in love with.

Descriptively, there is not much to add to the previous reviews, especially the outstanding one by SchatzSucher: Miss Dior opens with a wonderful, beautifully herbaceous, almost bitter green, which is only minimally lightened by citrus and into which only the faintest floral clouds mix, timidly rising from the heart note. As noted elsewhere, the scent in the opening resembles "Vol de Nuit," but is (although hardly less powerful) somewhat lighter and brighter. The heart note, which fully sets in after about thirty to fifty minutes, has little to do with this opening, and it is anything but the lush, heavy floral bouquet one might expect from the pyramid. Here we find a truly enchanting, subtle, and yet unique pearlescent, elegantly shimmering scent experience; light, cheerful, mostly champagne-silver, sometimes colorful, here almost sparkling, there nearly powdery, always fine and delicate, but only sometimes appearing fragile (then also with elastic strength). The distinctly separated third phase, now very close to the skin, perhaps from the fourth to the seventh hour, is like a bright spiciness, beige-brown, and reminds me more than just a little of archetypal masculine barber freshness.

What holds these three seemingly completely disparate phases together for me (besides the beauty of each of the paths) is the moderate coolness of the entire scent progression, its anything but glaring, but still quite bright light intensity, and two "base notes" that run through the entire progression; one is a very slight menthol freshness and then the ultra-classic, distinctive, strict, and yet beautifully chypre bass. Yes, I really only perceive it (on the skin) as an undertone: on fabric, it dominates everything.

Above all, there is a soul that holds "Miss Dior" together from within, despite all the dynamism of its development. Miss Dior is a fragrance that is young in the very best sense (I almost have to think of Nietzsche or Bergson, although that is not my philosophical direction): Fresh, clear, full of élan vital: tense, cheerful strength. It is one of the least sleepy and, despite its complexity, least convoluted fragrances I know. Certainly, Miss Dior is also a feminine fragrance (far from all relevant clichés, it is not sweet in the least and only very moderately floral), but within this beautiful lady resides not only an experienced soul (so that her games are not lacking in seriousness and wisdom), she has, like Niebelschützens' Princess Danae, all the (supposedly) masculine qualities: She knows the affairs of state and war, knows how to lead the reins, and can strike sensitively with both tongue and sword.

Thus, it is no contradiction for me: On one hand: This Miss Dior is a beautiful young woman to whom I lay my heart at her feet. And yet also: We are (if not Pope anymore...) Miss! Young and feminine, Miss Dior is in a way that we can all be: A person who is not spiritually aging and does not wall himself in a self-made image of masculinity can wear this fragrance, for whose name I of course give a smooth ten, regardless of gender and age; it will suit him like a second skin.

Why not a ten? I am a bit irritated by the abrupt drop in projection; after the very expansive galbanum opening, the second and third acts are characterized by almost erotic intimacy. And besides, the absolutely perfect is hard to love. The small flaws bring true perfection: when the Zen garden is perfectly clean and orderly, let a dried old leaf blow in.

EDIT:
PS1: Of course, wish list.
PS2: I also find the name historically interesting: "Miss Dior," named in 1947, still refers to the fresh good French-Anglo-American understanding due to the brotherhood in arms during World War II. Twelve years later, de Gaulle would have had something to say to the house of Dior if it had dared to name the fragrance anything other than "Mademoiselle Dior."