A very good friend told me that New Look 1947 smells the way I look. Something like that is lovely to hear, (Well, I wouldn’t want to be compared to Musc Kublai Khan, but an exclusive Dior? That is a compliment I gladly accept), and also very interesting. I always want to know how others perceive me and getting scented feedback is especially gratifying.
The only problem was – I didn’t particularly care for New Look 1947 at first.
But like in life, going through an awkward stage with oneself is fairly common (Hello, puberty!), but the older you get, the more mature (and wrinkled) you become, the more you accept yourself, the more you learn to live with yourself, take yourself the way you are, change what you can and accept what you can’t, and hopefully love yourself.
The same goes for perfume apparently…
This perfume is supposed to be a tuberose scent. And that might well be, but I sure don’t smell it. New Look 1947 for me is all about cream, powder, soap, a hazy veil of indistinct feminine smells, soft, pastel colored and see-through. There is a moment that makes me think “Ah, Tuberose!”, when in the beginning a soft mentholated whiff comes through the aldehydic sparkle, but that goes away soon and hides the presence of tuberose again underneath the many gauzy layers of fragrant tulle that is New Look 1947.
To me New Look 1947 is extremely feminine, all the associations with grooming products from face cream to lipstick, the tactile sensations of fabric, the low-key sparkle that stays through the first two thirds of the development of this perfume, say Woman, with a capital W, to me.
I always assumed I disliked aldehydes, but in fact I only dislike aldehydic florals. (Sorry, Chanel N°5 and Guerlain Vega, both of you are out for now.) When aldehydes come paired with woods (Le Labo Aldehyde 44), with gourmand notes (Parfumerie Generale Tonkamande) or spices (Sonoma Scent Studio Champagne de Bois), I really enjoy them. In New Look 1947, aldehydes sparkle on a base of powder and lift the entire perfume, shoot gas bubbles into the potentially dense composition and making it rise into the air.
Like a slowly revolving cloud of pale pastel powder, New Look 1947 hovers around me, at once obscuring and enhancing me, shielding and marking me.
I might know that synthesis of extremes, expressed in indistinct tones, not only from this perfume. My friend knows me well.