…by Dominique Ropion (creator of Ysatis, Amarige, and Alien, among others)
Top notes: aldehydes, bergamot, rose
Middle notes: mimosa, cassie (another type of mimosa)
Base notes: sandalwood, vanilla
One thing I’ve learned in my sampling is that perfumes that smell weird to other people don’t smell weird to me. Maybe this means I’m weird. At any rate, Une Fleur de Cassie has been described by others as smelling like wet cardboard at best, and at worst like things I won’t mention here, except that they involve babies or the circus. Use your imagination.
Using my imagination is proving difficult for me, though, because I find Cassie a bit hard to describe. It’s centered around mimosa, a note I usually find too prim yet perky for my taste. But Cassie is neither of those things. It is lush and honeyed. This is another of those deliberately-retro scents, like a woman who only wears vintage clothing–that woman on a sultry summer night.
While racking my brain trying to think of a comparison for it (because you have to think of something while you’re walking to the bus stop), it occurred to me: There used to be (maybe still is) a line of erotic oils, unguents, etc. called Kama Sutra. They had a product I was fond of called Honey Dust. This was honey-scented (and flavored, for that matter) powder. So it smelled like honey and powder, in a hippy-dippy sort of way. And Une Fleur de Cassie is like that hippie honey powder–if a time warp brought it back to the Roaring Twenties. Got that?
Personality: I’d like to think I’m the sort to lounge about with kohl-rimmed eyes, but kohl is wasted behind glasses.
Comfort level: Like with Iris Poudre, there are aldehydes in the opening. It doesn’t always bother me, but it sometimes does, and we’re going zero-tolerance here, so I must regretfully reject it.
Preferences: Love it, but with reservations.
Rating: 5 out of 5
But I am not the rightful wearer of Une Fleur de Cassie.