my favorite perfumes: diorissimo
a single review of a singular springtime scent
in the beginning, there was the word, and the word was with dior, and the word was dior. i consider the notorious french house to comprise a third of classical perfumery’s haute couture designer triumvirate. alongside chanel and yves saint laurent, most of the stylistic innovations to have occurred in the landscape of twentieth century mass-market perfume have come from these three greats. i think pretty much all of them have fallen off completely in terms of contemporary experimentation and relevance to the discerning aficionado, but in a sense, i think they all had their great runs. chanel’s in the early twenties and thirties, saint laurent’s in the 70s, and dior’s in the mid-century, markedly with the release of bestsellers miss dior and diorella, but the most precious among them to me is diorissimo. this article will be a little different than things i’ve done in the past, because it will review only one single perfume from the mental pantheon of perfumes i hold most dear to my heart. i hope via this series i can not only get the chance to write more in depth about specific fragrances, but introduce you to some of my favorite smells in the world.
when diorissimo was released in 1956, there was no such thing as lily of the valley in perfume. indeed most floral perfumes that saw success were crafted from flowers that could easily yield natural extracts: jasmine, rose, and others of the like. it was a natural continuation of luxury perfume’s immediate predecessor, scented toilette water mixed with natural oils yielded from local blooms. even abstract compositions like no 5 used extraits from orris and jasmine in the creation of larger accords. women of course loved smelling like specific flowers, even moreso than they do now i would say, but the scope of their imagination was largely limited by the practical tools at the disposal of perfumers employed by major luxury houses. that was, until frenchman edmond roudnitska began his fruitful series of collaborations with christian dior. mssr dior was known to be quite the romantic, and adored lily of the valley, as any true sentimentalist would. he was described to have worn it on his lapel in the few careful weeks when it was in bloom, and indeed his coffin was layered with hundreds of the white budding blooms. in his talks with roudnitska, both men were critical of the sweetness that had already come to dominate women’s perfumery, and longed for a more simplified rendition of designer perfume – something that does not so much evoke large-scale glamour but intimate, careful memories: of time spent in one’s garden, of the jubilation winter trails as it melts to spring. the result, after years of deliberation and formulation, was diorissimo. dior himself loved the perfume, wearing it frequently and deeming it “a scented expression of [his] soul. as i have alluded to, what makes diorissimo so important to the history of perfumery is exactly that which makes it feel so timeless and sentimental – it is quite simply dominated by a startlingly realistic lily of the valley accord, created not from natural extracts but the careful arrangement of a wide array of aromachemicals.
as his son michel roudnitska later testified: “it smells like nature, but the kind of nature that was only achieved by way of my father’s own acuity with both natural and synthetic odorants and his abiding intellectual search for the meaning of art and perfume. he said ‘speak to people of form and not of epidermis.’ he sought to elevate the perfume from the sensual level to a sophisticated aesthetic discourse.” what i admire so much about roudnitska’s approach to perfumery, is how humbly and sincerely he approaches the art of naturalism. it is the kind of work that is designed to disappear – dozens of different notes and smells all intentionally blended together to smell like one single thing, something someone will recognize and not think back to the work put into its assembly – to the perfumer’s skill – but to individualistic and emotionally charged memories. i am reminded perhaps of impressionist painting – a renoir sky, pieced together by thousands of careful azure demarcations, creating not an individual testament to hours spent mark-making but a gauzy and atmospheric effect reminiscent of twilight or midday or whatever specific time of day concerns the subject. diorissimo is a lily of the valley soliflore, but it is not exclusively made of this novel accord. the original formulation is bolstered by background notes of jasmine and other lesser florals, and into the drydown a more animalic and herbal-woody trace of sandalwood and civet. if you have never smelled a true lily of the valley flower in the throes of springtimes noxious gleam, i offer you my deepest condolences. it is one of the white florals among jasmine, tuberose, and lily, but holds a very distinct character all its own. deeply soap-like, green, and milky, it exudes plush verdancy and purity. yet this softness betrays strength. lily of the valley flowers and leaves are often classified as an invasive species, and are known to be highly toxic. even when consumed by humans they can lead to rashes, dizziness, vomiting, and at worst, heart failure and death. they are frequently known to take over whole fields in a season, and sadly often claim the lives of errant dogs and curious children. when you imagine deadly flowers, perhaps what comes to mind is menacing nightshade or witchy foxglove, but to me – the delicate floral bride of springtime, clad in white and carrying a sharpened blade beneath her lace garter – poses much more of a threat. needless to say, she is my favorite flower anyway, and if it is technically considered invasive to my midwestern home, i hope it takes over the whole chicagoland metropolitan area.
to me, diorissmo captures all these contradictions inherent to the muget: natural yet born of synthetic chemicals, all-encompassing yet fleeting in its time of bloom, adorably fairy-like yet deadly. needless to say diorissimo was incredibly popular upon release – and captured the hearts of a generation of romantics – male and female alike. reportedly a favorite of princess diana, i see this as perfect proof this fragrance is the modern-day princesses’ best friend. opening with a dewey and sumptuous greenness that quickly yields to its bulbous floral heart – its sillage won’t turn any heads, but it was clearly designed to serve moreso as a tool of personal reflection and happiness than a statement-making party accessory. in this sense, i see it as the perfume of a type of woman who knows what she wants – who has nothing to prove to the greater public and is moreso interested in beauty that radiates from personal joy. indeed in france, lily of the valley is honored with joyful celebration on may first, the 1er mai. colloquially ringing in the exciting arrival of spring, the french will adorn their may day celebrations with bouquets of muget, and gift the stems to family and loved ones as a traditional token of their steadfast admiration.
before they came to be associated with french festivities, the lily of the valley had another more devotional name: our lady’s tears. their bell-like downward-facing droops were rumored in folk legend to have arose from the ground upon which mary’s tears fell during christ’s crucification at calvary. while not actually native to the middle eastern climate, it’s not difficult to see how such a pure and delicate bloom might come to be associated with the mother of god. indeed the traditional name – lily of the valley – is itself a biblical reference to the song of songs. chapter two verse one reads “i am a rose of sharon, a lily of the valleys. like a lily among thorns is my darling among the maidens. like an apple tree among the trees of the forest is my lover among the young men. i delight to sit in his shade, and his fruit is sweet to my taste.” this union between the masculine and feminine, christ and his church even, has been contained within the cultural symbolism of lily of the valley for centuries. in this sense i would go even further to say that diorissmo represents the divine androgynous ideal in fashion – worn by christian dior but envisioned on his ideal muse, evoking the virgin mary yet syntactically associated with the union between men and women, a deeply feminine smell to most, but associated with a more visceral memory of unsexed childhood. there is a psychoanalytic eroticism here – torn which way between purity and flesh, between that which is irrevocably of this world, and those precious things which are beyond. i want to fixate on another detail to this story i find revealing. multiple publications refer to lily of the valley as a “fetish flower” for christian dior – something he kept with him always, and held to be his own lucky charm, providing inspiration in both professional fashion and personal life. his spring/summer 1954 collection is dedicated to the flower, with delicate silk embroidery bearing its image all over snow-white dresses. the subtext is delicious – lost between bridalwear and lingerie, unzipped in states of array, yielding a reluctant seduction, a gorgeous display.
indeed lily of the valley has a somewhat cult history as a wedding bouquet flower, notably favored by princess of monaco grace kelly, and carried by audrey hepburn in both her mock wedding in the 1957 musical-comedy funny face, and at her actual second wedding to andrea dotti. i think about one specific photograph of grace kelly at her wedding often, in relation to diorissimo and just in general. she is gorgeous, of course, but in this image her gaze is somewhat forlorn, directed off to the side, as if lost in a vision of the future. the lilies of the valley spill out from her hands, sideways from her womb even, as emerging from her very essence, mirroring the intricate detailing of her lace dress and veil. her makeup is sharp and contrasted, as if in a silent film – she does not speak, but her expression elaborates. i like this image far more than the traditionally sweet wide toothed grins associated with nuptual photography – i see it as emblematic of diorissimo’s profile, containing the ever-fleeting beauty of lily of the valley, an enshrinement of a smell that normally contains its own harbinger of death. in chicago, where i live, muguet blooms for two blessed weeks at best, before their delicate bells wither into brown dots scattered along the sidewalk, and late spring’s temperate breezes bear way to tepid summer.
while needless to say it’s all but impossible to source a truly original vintage bottle of this masterpiece, you can quite readily buy decants of the slightly reformulated pre-2011 makeover diorissimo, in both eau de parfum format, and the more traditional pure parfum the twentieth century would have largely experienced. i would truly recommend anyone who has read this far spend the ten something dollars surrender to chance charges you for a few precious drops of this primaveral nectar. i promise you it is worth the price of admission, and then some.
‘Eat your Lipstick’ is a perfume blog by Audrey Robinovitz, @foldyrhands
Audrey Robinovitz is a multidisciplinary artist, scholar, and self-professed perfume critic. Her work intersects with the continued traditions of fiber and olfactory arts, post-structural feminism, and media studies. At this very moment, she is most likely either smelling perfume or taking pictures of flowers.