Mitsouko Eau de Parfum by Guerlain

I’m lucky to have a vintage miniature I pulled from a Guerlain trunk a while back. I love scented with spicy notes that give them that oriental touch. Here, I detect flowers and spices, especially cinnamon with a hint of peach. It’s different from what I usually wear, but I’ve caught the bug. I keep it like a treasure and save it for special days.

Mitsouko is, above all, a necessity. For me, it was a mandatory test given what the fragrance and the brand mean. It’s a classic, it’s history. I doubt if my 2019 batch is part of that legend, but I’ve liked it. I don’t know of other batches. The longevity is surprising; if it soaks into clothes, it lasts days. You notice it when worn without it being a bomb. The peach, oakmoss, and spices stand out. By the way, here it’s natural oakmoss. Mitsouko brings me order, tidiness, a light that highlights objects and tempers the ugliness of life. Does it smell like another era? Possibly, but who cares if it transcended it and is here to remind us of life’s good things.

Mitsouko has that quality of old-school perfumes: it’s not a fragrance for daily use or photorealistic, but rather evokes a concept and all the paraphernalia that frames it. This is the smell of post-war. It smells like a Charlot film, like jazz clubs where gin flows, or having a drink of absinthe with Breton and Cocteau in a dive bar in Montmartre while debating surrealism. It also smells like kilos of fresh ginger and cinnamon, accompanied by earthy oakmoss and the silent sweetness of an unripe peach. The potency of the components varies as hours pass: at first spices dominate, and in the final drydown, the peach, amber, and oakmoss come through. The notes are always there, dancing happily around me, like a group of flappers drinking champagne. Longevity is about 8 hours on my skin, projecting for the first 4. I’ve really enjoyed reconnecting with Mitsouko, as I didn’t appreciate it as I should the first time. I consider it a unisex scent for cool or mild days, very vintage but perfectly usable today, day or night, for formal occasions or simply when you want to project an extra dose of sophistication. Pleasant: 7/10 Interesting: 8/10 Versatile: 7/10 Original: 10/10 (there are more like it, but Mitsouko was surely the first of its kind).

What a wonderful perfume! I could say Mitsouko is one of the most beautiful and refined spicy scents I’ve ever smelled. The blend of spices with flowers, the touch of peach, and the oakmoss seems exquisite. I’d love to be able to buy it someday.

I dove into the world of chypres with Aromatics by Clinique and Mitsouko. At first, I didn’t understand the notes, but now I know they have a magnetism. I’m not sure if it’s the moss or the styrax, but they evoke warm, alchemical spaces where you want to be. Like an Arab bath where they immerse you in water with ointments, medicinal plants, spices, and floral creams. Mitsouko smells like a warm essence with an oriental touch. You can tell it’s vintage; Guerlain was an artist. Hello, world of chypres, I’ve discovered you through Mitsouko. Chypres are mead.

I’m so happy that I like MITSOUKO by GUERLAIN! Yes, I know the phrase I just said might seem silly, but actually it isn’t. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have been prepared to delight myself with this range of scents from a classic like Mitsouko, nor to catch the beauty of Chanel No. 5, Cinnabar, Aromatics Elixir, Youth Dew, Miss Dior, or Kouros. The current moment doesn’t know chypres of this type, nor fougères of the others. It’s hard for an innocent nose to be formed on these scents with the range of perfumes that are popular today. And it’s a pity, because just as important as enjoying a good fruity-chouli (there are some, for example, ‘La Vie Est Belle’) is enjoying a classic chypre like this Mitsouko, beautiful from its start through its drydown, passing by its Art Nouveau bottle by Georges Chevalier. The aldehydic potency of its opening is citrusy, green, floral, and fruity, but above all it’s classic with the magnificence of a perfume that is history. When I put Mitsouko on my skin, tears well up in my eyes; in the same way as when I hear the Sarabande from Suite No. 2 for cello by Bach. The beauty of human genius emerges in the first fruity chypre fragrance in the history of perfumery. When Jacques Guerlain mimed his perfumes as only a true artist can. Mitsouko, heroine of the novel ‘La Bataille’ by Claude Farrère, in love with a British officer but married to a Japanese admiral. The lemon, tangerine, bergamot, and orange essence open up like a dense citrus flower caked with fruity aldehydes. The sensation is the same as when the curtain rises in the opera and the first notes of Madame Butterfly unravel over the expectant audience. The incorporation of the peach (Jacques Guerlain’s original discovery) is gradual, without cloying or suffocating. In the same way as the jasmine, rose, and ylang-ylang, a triumvirate of oriental flowers that embodies the very essence of the flower. The delicate decaying density and simple complexity characterize Mitsouko, in an accord so homogeneous yet full of nuances. The spicy touches of clove and cinnamon; the dark green of the oakmoss; the Guerlinade sweetness of the amber, vanilla, tonka bean, and sandalwood. In the distance of the drydown hours, a soft scent of lavender and clean laundry. It’s not an aggressive perfume, nor drastic, nor unlikable, nor indecipherable. Only a few tries on separate days are required to delight in that fruity-resinous-green and floral, wrapped in a delicate woody sweetness. For me to consider Mitsouko unisex and timeless is motivated solely by the fact that no man nor woman should be deprived of the power to enjoy this great creation. When Madame Butterfly sings ‘Un bel dì, vedremo’, the viewer brings their wrist to their nose and inhales Mitsouko, becoming a sea of tears. And I can assure you it is so.

A Dame de Noir owes a great debt to Charles Chaplin, a true cinema genius.

This perfume is timeless with a certain ambiguous character. I see it as unisex, perhaps a bit complex and difficult to wear today. It’s not easy. It’s a chypre, and chypres are difficult to formulate, even more so to wear (danger of the perfume taking you away rather than you taking it if you don’t have a determined personality). A chypre always has many raw materials, with citrus, rose, and oak moss (French tradition) being highlighted, and it seems the trend today is to make them (though sometimes I read they are made and it makes me laugh). This Guerlain is good, distinctive, and classy, but I insist, it’s not easy. It’s very soapy, too much, reminding me of an old vanity. Nevertheless, it’s a classic to keep in mind for anyone wanting a very vintage aroma. A great chypre (and not what is made now, which seems to put that name on anything, misleading advertising).

There’s so much information about the name ‘Chypre’ it gives you a headache. Some say it comes from the Greek island of Venus, full of moss and roses; others say it only refers to oakmoss; and others claim it’s an ancient preparation of labdanum and balms used since Roman times, later adding oakmoss in the Renaissance. Regarding its creation, although Guerlain already used these notes, it was Coty who popularized it in 1917 with ‘Chypre’, a worldwide success that inspired Mitsouko. Mitsouko is a fruity chypre with citrus, but without losing strength in its apricot and moss, alongside spices. Compared to Femme de Rochas, both have cinnamon and apricot, but Mitsouko plays more with spices and citrus, while Femme flirts with juicy fruits and leather. Over time, Mitsouko’s spices take center stage, the apricot remains, and I detect a touch of lilac. Mitsouko doubles down on Coty’s bet by being spicier with cinnamon and an innovative fruity tone for the era. Coty focuses on citrus, moss, incense, patchouli, and civet. A family that was once rejected and that I now love.

I found it online and it was a blind buy that made my heart happy. One of Guerlain’s legendary scents I wanted to enjoy. Its boozy opening of sparkling bergamot overwhelms me and gives way to incredibly rich, ripe peaches. I don’t perceive any flowers. In the dry down, the oakmoss is nothing synthetic, with an unsettling touch of vetiver and burning spicy notes of cinnamon and clove, ending on an amber note. Although it doesn’t have it, I detect a hint of animalic soft leather and oily accord that fascinates me. It’s sweet and sour, strong at the start, with a warm, amber, spicy, and enveloping heart. Perfectly unisex due to that woody and mossy trail that follows me. Ideal for cold weather, day and night depending on the number of sprays. The sillage is good; at a meter from my arm, it smells and lasts more than 6 hours. Although it’s a fruity chypre, I think it’s a gentlemanly oriental perfume. The bottle is beautiful, typical Guerlain, with intense amber liquid. In the center, a golden circle with oriental characters. Mysterious, nocturnal, and complex. Like opening a box with memories of yesterday. A delight to return to when I want something seductive.

According to someone, this is my 100th review. I don’t care, but I wanted to dedicate it to a millennial perfume. Anecdote: I tested it with friends who know little about fragrances. I thought of an aromatic wonder, complete, abstract, exquisite, and evocative. They said: ‘Gross, it smells like grandma’s perfume’. Used to that, I swallowed the pain and kept going. ‘Youthful’ aromas depend on trends; today classics are for grandmas, but in 40 years current fragrances will seem like that. Even if the market changes, the appreciation for classics won’t be lost. Back to Mitsouko: being a lover of oakmoss, the fusion with peach is splendid and overwhelming. It combines seductive spices, bitter and homely cinnamon, and aggressive vetiver. It’s a work of art, worthy of Viennese aristocracies or postmodern grace. It’s a deity of credibility, causing sweat in skeptics and showing its nobility with subtlety. Its great drawback is availability; its accessibility is intriguing, I fear reformulations. It penetrates the skin and seeks to prevail. It’s sad that works like this are displaced by things like Black Opium or 212 Sexy.

Yesterday I was going to buy something new and ended up with Mitsouko, an ancient, mythical, and emblematic fragrance from Guerlain. What seduced me? Its apparent simplicity, a beautiful combination of spiced, woody, and floral notes. The attraction I’ve always felt is a true mystery, as I’m a lover of scandalous and sweet fragrances… and this soft ‘mysterious lady’ is slightly sweet, very spiced, with a cinnamon flavor. It’s an adorable, peaceful, almost poetic composition. It has the simplicity of a Japanese tea house, the coral color of a sunset, a golden screen with floating floral details drifting in a stream painted by a master. It reminds me of ‘The Book of Tea’ by Okakura Kakuzo. It’s beautiful and must fly wonderfully. Wide sillage and good longevity; an excellent recommendation for anyone who, like me, enjoys the taste of delicate spices.

It’s one of the most complicated perfumes I own; it cost me a lot to write this review. The first time it felt strange, reminding me of entering my grandmother’s room as a child smelling her perfumes and makeup. Not because it’s old, but something melancholic, from the past. The first spray is fresh: orange and a light touch of peach, then rose and bergamot make their way. At this point, it feels more masculine than feminine. There’s a bitter point, I imagine from the moss and spices. I don’t detect lilacs. The dry down on my skin is very sweet, with bursts of sweet and comforting aroma, perhaps the Ylang and amber; luckily, the cinnamon doesn’t appear. It’s a perfume that works well on windy days, for walks in a park or open places. I don’t see it for romantic situations or closed meetings. As I said, it’s very strange, perhaps more for personal enjoyment.