
Kiki4882
4 Reviews
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Kiki4882
3
Slow Burn - or: What Are You, Exactly?
With some fragrances, I need about three seconds to categorize them:
Spray. Smell. In love.
Or: Spray. Smell. No. Thanks.
Musc Miroir fits into neither of these categories for me.
Even my first sniff of the bottle left me somewhat at a loss. I had imagined it more intense. More powerful. Maybe even a little dirty and animalic. Instead: musk, warmth, spice, woods - and something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
So onto the skin it went.
And there I was again: What are you, exactly?
Musk, yes. Spicy, definitely. Warm and woody. Somewhere in the background, something slightly animalic. Not unpleasant, not at all. But neither was there any oomph or an immediate "Oh God, you're beautiful."
Quite simply, I didn't know what to make of it.
After ten minutes, something changed. The fragrance became softer. Milkier, perhaps? Creamy seemed almost too obvious. This warmth suddenly acquired a texture I could grasp more easily.
After half an hour, I found it considerably more beautiful.
And at some point I caught myself constantly sniffing my forearm. Not because I was already head over heels in love, but because I still wanted to figure out what was actually going on there.
Interestingly, Musc Miroir tells a different story on my T-shirt. There, it is dirtier, earthier, somewhat rougher. On my skin, by contrast, it becomes warm, soft and increasingly creamy, without losing its spiciness or that latent animalic side.
Three hours later, my initial question mark had become a fairly definite "I like this fragrance. Very much, actually."
To me, Musc Miroir doesn't smell like my other musks. It is neither simply clean and cuddly nor the classic creamy skin scent. There is something headstrong about it. Warm. Spicy. A little dirt under the fingernails. And at the same time, this soft, almost milky skin.
Above all, though, it lives through its development.
It didn't leap out at me. It didn't convince me within the first minute. Instead, it took its time, became more beautiful little by little, and eventually made me realize that I had already brought my nose to my forearm for the tenth time.
A slow burn.
And perhaps that is precisely its greatest appeal.
Will this eventually turn into a great love and a full bottle? No idea. My 5 ml (thanks to @Nutscent) can tell me that in peace and quiet for now.
But it is already on the wish list.
Spray. Smell. In love.
Or: Spray. Smell. No. Thanks.
Musc Miroir fits into neither of these categories for me.
Even my first sniff of the bottle left me somewhat at a loss. I had imagined it more intense. More powerful. Maybe even a little dirty and animalic. Instead: musk, warmth, spice, woods - and something I couldn't quite put my finger on.
So onto the skin it went.
And there I was again: What are you, exactly?
Musk, yes. Spicy, definitely. Warm and woody. Somewhere in the background, something slightly animalic. Not unpleasant, not at all. But neither was there any oomph or an immediate "Oh God, you're beautiful."
Quite simply, I didn't know what to make of it.
After ten minutes, something changed. The fragrance became softer. Milkier, perhaps? Creamy seemed almost too obvious. This warmth suddenly acquired a texture I could grasp more easily.
After half an hour, I found it considerably more beautiful.
And at some point I caught myself constantly sniffing my forearm. Not because I was already head over heels in love, but because I still wanted to figure out what was actually going on there.
Interestingly, Musc Miroir tells a different story on my T-shirt. There, it is dirtier, earthier, somewhat rougher. On my skin, by contrast, it becomes warm, soft and increasingly creamy, without losing its spiciness or that latent animalic side.
Three hours later, my initial question mark had become a fairly definite "I like this fragrance. Very much, actually."
To me, Musc Miroir doesn't smell like my other musks. It is neither simply clean and cuddly nor the classic creamy skin scent. There is something headstrong about it. Warm. Spicy. A little dirt under the fingernails. And at the same time, this soft, almost milky skin.
Above all, though, it lives through its development.
It didn't leap out at me. It didn't convince me within the first minute. Instead, it took its time, became more beautiful little by little, and eventually made me realize that I had already brought my nose to my forearm for the tenth time.
A slow burn.
And perhaps that is precisely its greatest appeal.
Will this eventually turn into a great love and a full bottle? No idea. My 5 ml (thanks to @Nutscent) can tell me that in peace and quiet for now.
But it is already on the wish list.
1 Comment



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