Musks can be a tricky business. They can be too clean, evoking room spray, dryer sheets and fresh laundry. They can be too dirty, evoking sweaty armpits and Mongolian leaders including their horses. Or they can be too big (molecular size-wise) resulting in anosmia among a certain percentage of people, me included.
Therefore I tend to be only very cautiously optimistic, when I hear about a musc perfume. There is Musc Ravageur that have grown to really like, there is Annick Goutal Musc Nomade, that plays tricks on me, there is L’Artisan Mure et Musc, which is quite nice, and there is the infamous Serge Lutens Muscs Kublai Khan, that smells truly horrific to me.
Mona wanted to find the ideally balanced musk and I salute her for that effort, since it was always my problem finding a musk that has the exact right ratio of clean versus dirty. Turns out you need a golden ratio to succeed…
If you combine Mona di Orio’s reputation for loving to work with animalic notes and the idea of musk, you might be afraid to try Musc. No reason to be though. Musc is a very soft, quiet and delicate scent.
Opening with cool angelica and a little bit of green neroli, the musky base settles in quickly and in and out waft rose and heliotrope and the sweetness of tonka bean.
Musc is comforting and as soft as a kitten’s fur or a baby’s cheek. But underneath all the innocence and tender sweetness, lies bare skin. Bare skin you long to touch, soft and warm and a little salty. Musc is not only delicate beauty, there is the idea of a human body as well. Not too clean, not too rank. A perfect balance.
Musc makes you want to come close and bury your nose deeply. Still, Musc has nothing sexual for me, it is rather chaste, but exudes a warmth that makes you long for an embrace.
A hug from a close friend, a mother’s loving touch, a child’s caress, they all smell like Musc.
Who doesn’t need a hug now and again?