digging (into) vintage: Christian Dior Diorella, 1972

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(image, Lauren Hutton. source unknown.)

Perfumer Edmond Roudnitska.

Diorella is the consummate summer perfume. Not because it is intended to be warn strictly in summer, but because it smells like summer. It is harmoniously skanky, the perfect mise èn scène for a late summer tryst. The jasmine, the melon, the citrus are all at an equal state of rot. The flowers, in the language of Diorella’s era, let it all hang out. The fruit is turned. You are likely ripe with summer sweat. That’s all the exposition the story of your day with Diorella’s needs.

There are more well-struck balances in this perfume than you might find in another house’s entire line. The jaws-dropping set of accords set in motion at the start remains in place from its almost tipsy-drunk start through its tart-green heart to its mossy-woody base. Diorella slides back-and-forth between its fruity, mossy, floral and woody tendencies, but remains specific and identifiable at all times. (Sadly, it’s impossible not to mention reformulation when referring to Diorella.)

Fumies often list their favorites, the one we’d take to prison or a deserted island, the one we’d grab from a burning house. I’ve listed VeroProfumo Rozy, Shalimar, Sova, Passage d’Enfer and in my theoretical top blah-blah list, but if I could have only one perfume, Diorella would be my choice.  (although…)


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