Rose Exaltante Mizensir 2016

While browsing through the extensive oeuvre of Mr. Morillas, I was astonished to realize that he had, so to speak, accompanied me incognito for years. Both the widely known ‘M7’ and the less common ‘Gai Mattiolo Uomo’ are from his hand - both acquisitions from the pre-Parfumo era, without deeper engagement, especially not with the perfumer. ‘Gai Mattiolo’ eventually ran out, and the ‘M7’ fell victim to the orientation towards niche fragrances. MisterE inherited that one. But it was good, at the very least decent stuff.

And now something like this:

A simultaneously watery-soapy and somewhat stuffy-elderly rose of the “grandma’s bathroom freshener” variety experiences a sting like that of moldy mandarin within minutes. Later, I think of a musty cleaning rag that still holds a trace of “The General - Rose Freshness.” So crampingly awkward-fresh and dull at the same time, the scent drifts through an olfactorily unpleasant morning. A pointed note reminiscent of polished, dark wood gradually complements the previously moldy, piercing part. To grasp such under “oud” requires goodwill and a certain imagination on the part of the recipient. If both conditions are met, the approach may indeed be understandable. Perhaps they consciously saved on the precious agarwood fungus product; the fruit mold cousin is just cheaper…

Only very slowly do balsamic-creamy-sweet elements emerge, alleviating the greatest distress. The overall picture of the fragrance can now be formulated more favorably for me as “encased in floral creaminess and gently candied bitter edge,” although ‘Rose Exaltante,’ smelled directly on the skin, still evokes mold associations for me.

I willingly believe throughout the afternoon that Muscenone and Exaltone are musk replicas. And their appearance does indeed save something. In conjunction with the stench from above, a mixture seems to emerge that consists of two types of musk: clean and…animalic. Who would have thought? Not overwhelmingly animalic, but still. And without the intrusive greasiness that had spoiled, for example, Lutens’ ‘Muscs Koublaï Khän’ for me. Bright wood provides a fairly suitable foundation as evening approaches, while a remnant of the once quite soapy-watery rose now develops delicate candy ambitions, thus also taking on unexpected form. The next morning, I even think I catch a few scattered, basal-resinous molecules: labdanum perhaps? Rose exaltante as the seventh impression of Dior’s ‘Oud Ispahan’?

Elsewhere, I might perhaps appreciate this late courage - which must be understood strictly relatively - more enthusiastically, but today I lack the adequate derivation throughout the day. Had the oud concept come across more coherently at the front, the basal fluff would have fit better.

Conclusion: The ending is somewhat milder. The first hours, however, are nasty.

I thank Kovex for the sample.