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07/28/2019
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Snow
There are fragrances that have nothing of Grandezza, that are simply and supposedly insignificant. They are found to be nice and well-behaved by those who pass by carelessly (or those who look more closely but whose hearts are not preformed for them), but not worth closer attention. But for the one who lends them the look that they really deserve, whose soul is prepared for them, they show him the whole world of their pure, good beauty. Misia by Guerlain is such a fragrance, of creamy white character, and Mirto by Tuttotondo, a snow-white, is such a fragrance.
One could hardly have baptized this fragrance on a more beautiful name than "Mirto"; at best it would be regrettable that myrtle in Italian is not of the female sex, which would probably do even more justice to its grace. The fragrance of myrtle is said to be similar to eucalyptus and camphor, fresh and spicy.
That can be found here; but more decisive are colour and symbolism. The myrtle blooms snow-white, as this scent smells. And the myrtle white, the bridal white, is faithful and genuine, fine and upright, virtuous and righteous. Ecco Mirto. Needless to add that the modest, even chaste white is nothing less than prudish or good-hearted (the latter at most in its still living meaning of wacker in English). It has its own attraction: the love and the lovable borders on the loving, and the white flame always burns hotter than the red one.
Mirto opens with snow. A snowfield in the mountains that shows expanse, clarity, alertness, freshness and purity. And delicacy, tenderness. Then, perhaps after a night in which a moon shines silvery white, it blooms snowdrop-white, crocus-white; animated by light green leaves, tenderly bitter and tenderly sweet at the same time. In the end, the image dissolves into grace and life and into a serenity that is too active to be comfortable.
One could hardly have baptized this fragrance on a more beautiful name than "Mirto"; at best it would be regrettable that myrtle in Italian is not of the female sex, which would probably do even more justice to its grace. The fragrance of myrtle is said to be similar to eucalyptus and camphor, fresh and spicy.
That can be found here; but more decisive are colour and symbolism. The myrtle blooms snow-white, as this scent smells. And the myrtle white, the bridal white, is faithful and genuine, fine and upright, virtuous and righteous. Ecco Mirto. Needless to add that the modest, even chaste white is nothing less than prudish or good-hearted (the latter at most in its still living meaning of wacker in English). It has its own attraction: the love and the lovable borders on the loving, and the white flame always burns hotter than the red one.
Mirto opens with snow. A snowfield in the mountains that shows expanse, clarity, alertness, freshness and purity. And delicacy, tenderness. Then, perhaps after a night in which a moon shines silvery white, it blooms snowdrop-white, crocus-white; animated by light green leaves, tenderly bitter and tenderly sweet at the same time. In the end, the image dissolves into grace and life and into a serenity that is too active to be comfortable.
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