On paper, there is no reason why I should desire Misia: no lush white flowers repose within its folds, it does not ride on a well-oiled leather saddle, and, while it has its sweet side, it does not satisfy the sweet tooth. There is, however, some truth in the saying that love follows no logic, for I adore Misia from the very bottom of my heart, despite her not being my kind of gal at all.
The opening of Misia is akin to opening the doors of a woman’s boudoir. The air that gusts forth is still scented with her perfume, and the layers of your tulle skirt drift down on a cloud of violets and roses. On first sniff, I thought the resemblance of Misia‘s opening act to Guerlain’s famed Meteorites powder was uncanny, but direct comparison later on would reveal that Misia has left out Guerlain’s signature emphasis on violet’s heavy, powdery facets, opting instead for a more even ratio of violets to roses, and to subtly cut the powder with the sharpness of frozen berries and the metallic coolness of iris. The boudoir is dark; the room is cold. On fabric, this unusually aloof violet-rose accord lingers on and on, but on the skin, it dissipates in brisk yet gradual steps without ever completely disappearing, as if your nose has simply adjusted to the scent.
Then, like a hand flicking on the vanity lights, the scent warms up, and the iris comes to the forefront. The iris — and what an iris! — displays all of its facets as quietly, as proudly as a diamond would. Alternately, it wafts from the powder puffs, sits in jars of soft creams that melt readily on the skin, and stands green, dripping dew, in crystal bowls of water. If you tilt your head right, you can smell its metallic tang: the scent of a silver compact heating up between your fingers.
(Through it all, at the very edge of your perception, as if emanating from an old friend’s forgotten shawl, hovers the familiar, unmistakeable note of aldehydic jasmine….)
The dry-down is the scent of skin sweetened with cream, which occasionally leans into the gourmand territory of rice pudding on me. This closing act lasts through the night; sometimes, I wake up in the morning and curl back into the sweetness, which lingers still on my wrists.
As the story goes, Olivier Polge’s inspiration for the fragrance was neither Misia Sert the lady nor her friendship with Coco Chanel; instead, it was her patronage of the Ballet Russes, and Misia was supposed to evoke the makeup of the dancers. To my mind, however, Misia also evokes another kind of patronage altogether: that of a lady and her protégé.
For Misia is an undoubtedly feminine perfume, yet only in the sense that it evokes feminine things. Misia does not bring to mind a lady; it brings to mind the things that make a lady a lady. It is the induction of a woman into the feminine world and all its accoutrements.
Somewhat befittingly, Misia smells cold on paper strips and fabric. This is a skin scent in all sense of the phrase: it only comes alive when a person enters the boudoir and turns the light on, and it never strays far from the skin upon anointment. If there is a fault to be found in it, it has to be its insistence on secrecy: for such a pricey little thing, even in its comparatively flamboyant first act, its trail reaches only an arm’s length; afterwards, it wraps itself close around you. The distance it keeps is almost aristocratic, in the sense that only those you allow the honour of leaning in close will be able to catch your scent.
Lately, I find myself wearing Misia everywhere I go. It smells as expensive as it costs, if not more, which should have made it a difficult fragrance to wear on a daily basis. However, more than anything else, it smells like dignity, the kind of honour that money can’t buy. In my weariest, most cynical moments, it is in Misia that I trust. I’ll tuck my hair behind my ear and catch a whiff of Misia on my wrist. I’ll take a deep breath, a moment of respite where I bask in its loveliness. Then, chin up, back straight, I’ll get back to work.
Chanel ‘Les Exclusifs de Chanel’ Misia is an eau de parfum and available in 2 formats: 75 mL (USD 185) and 200 mL (USD 325).
The image was sourced from Chanel’s website.
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