I had a joyful time sniffing my way through the Beverly Hills Etro store the other day. Just about every one of their TWENTY TWO fragrances was really something!
Ever since you once mentioned the Haight Ashbury “scalpy smell” you noticed as a kid growing up in San Francisco, "scalpy-smell" has been buzzing around under my...scalp. And after I sprayed on a bit of Etro Messe de Minuit, I got to experience the full follicular glory of “scalpy” in a scent.
Messe de Minuit starts off spicy orange, then turns into proper, hardcore incense. It's not a variation on the Comme des Garçons Incense Series theme -- those nellies are woody and sheer and sweetish. Instead, the incense here is enjoyably harsh: almost soapy, but not quite. So far, so good.
Then, 40 minutes in: scalpy! A really personal, human smell. SO interesting! How do these guys do it? And in this Contac pill time-release fashion? It must be the myrrh in thyrrh. Myrrh equals scalpy. Messe de Minuit really is a midnight mass: from swinging censors to the hot heads in the pews.
The fume connoisseurs are always fuzzing and fulminating about the "mildew" in Messe de Minuit, but there's no mildew! I think what they're really responding to is myrrh's stealthy sebum. Tell them, Dan!
There's something satisfying in knowing that if I were to pass away tomorrow, I'd leave behind the term "scalpy smell." At least with you.
Now as you breathlessly write about Messe de Minuit, you realize I recommended that one to you long ago, right? And you dismissed it out of hand. Out of hand, KP! Okay, I just searched and found this quote from you: "Messe de Minuit is of no interest to me."
I briefly owned Anice by Etro when I was on a licorice kick. And that one kicked me right out the door. It was so abundantly anise-y, wearing it wasn't like smelling licorice, it was like being licorice. It was like the "Violet, you're turning Violet!" scene in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
Oh, and I tried Etro Lemon Sorbet ages ago. But I don't remember why. Nor do I remember the scent. Of course, if I now say, "Etro is of no interest to me," I know it'll come back to bite me on the butt. So I'll just say, "Hmm, Messe de Minuit, I thought you might like that one."
Messe de Minuit -- well, clearly, it does interest me -- and I'm not afraid to say I've changed my mind. It's "my prerogative", as Bobby Brown once so movingly sang in the late nineteen hundred and eighties. But not to wear, personally. That part hasn't changed. I have no interest in owning it. I think....