Despite her stints as a member of the Italian Communist Party and as a mime, Miuccia Prada is a card-carrying member of the Northern Italian bourgeoisie – at heart a tweeds-and-loafers bunch – and as I’ve written before, her designs have a deliberately schoolmarmish, I-don’t-dress-to-please-men stance. Similarly, Prada fragrances, with the exception of the first orange and patchouli blend which may have echoed some hippy-era memory, always give off a you-won’t-catch-me-flashing-cleavage vibe. All authored by Daniela Andrier, they show remarkable consistency both within the line and with the brand, and that consistency hinges around their trademark soapiness. No come-hither wafts from those chic bottles: just the clean, freshly-scrubbed smell of the well-to-do who have no need for erotic advertisement, and no truck with the extravagant wastefulness of heady scents.
To each Prada soap is added a wash of a scent, itself scrubbed of anything that could remotely evoke the earth from which the original plant sprang or the sexual message carried by its blossoms. In Infusion de Tubéreuse, the namesake flower, still burping a mouthful of suds – the old-style punishment for saying dirty words; and heaven knows tuberose has got quite a repertoire of them – pokes its head out after a bright, short-lived citrus burst. Despite the soapiness, it retains some of its creaminess, intensified by a gardenia/banana-candy effect that gives the fragrance an intense sweetness under the lather.
The result is one of the tamest tuberoses on the market; in fact, this is tuberose spayed, sipping tea with other Milanese matrons while quietly stroking her cashmere turtleneck, her dreams of bringing down the Scala with her rendition of Mimi long-forgotten. She’s opted for the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie.
Well, what's the point of wearing a tame tubey? ::yawn::
RépondreSupprimerI remember Miuccia Prada once quoted as saying she likes to wear some of her rings with the gems turned inward, toward her palm. I couldn't decide if she was eschewing ostentation or denying the proles a look at her gems. I love fashion, but sometimes I love it because it makes me laugh.
RépondreSupprimerI sniffed this a couple of days ago and couldn't decide whether I was totally unimpressed or mildly irritated. Or maybe a bit of both. This is a tuberose for people who are terrified of tuberose, which is basically the same as a red dress for a woman who hates the colour red. In other words, pointless.
RépondreSupprimerIt's interesting how Prada managed to stay consistent in both her fashion and perfume lines. Although I never thought of her general aesthetic as particularly bourgeois - to me, it's more of the challengingly unsexy variety. Sadly, there's nothing challenging about her perfumes (with the exception of the original Prada, which I really like). Most of those are indeed bourgeois - good quality, polite, inoffensive and, dare I say it, boring.
I've always had trouble with her line, both fashion and fragrance. The fragrances I'm either anosmic or bored to death by and her fashions - well...
RépondreSupprimerAs StyleSpy said: what's the point?
I'm off to wear some vintage My Sin extract. Now that's a fragrance!
xoxoA
You always write with great accuracy, D. It's a real service to all of us.
RépondreSupprimerI hear you on the Prada style. Funnily enough, though, with the new vetiver it seems to be a good fit. There are so many big-boned, meaty vetivers out there. The leanness of it makes it something I could wear straight through to November when I'll haul out the husky ones. It's a leanness that speaks of quality and sensitivity, too, not the mean, thin, watery kind.
I'll try the tuberose, but something tells me it won't thrill me!
Amy: for me, none. Tame tuberose is an olfactory oxymoron.
RépondreSupprimerCyndi, I'd wager on the first supposition: the "gem inside" is the epitome of bourgeois stealth chic!
RépondreSupprimerFashionistaag: to me the unsexiness is all about the bourgeois-ness... I think the fragrance is good as a whole because of its consistent style and message: it think it appeals to the same impulse as Prada's inner matronly frump, though it's much less spectacular than Miuccia Prada's designs, which have often been quite groundbreaking. Let's say the fragrances are really the fashion line's subsconcious.
RépondreSupprimerMusette, I actually really like the fashion, I feel I totally get it. And I also get the point of the fragrances, but it's not a point I want to make! If I tuberose, I tuberose, no apologies about it.
RépondreSupprimerRobin, I need to try that vetiver, I've been hearing a lot of good things about it, and I love a good vetiver -- though right now I'm quite happy with Sycomore and Turtle.
RépondreSupprimerWhen I smelled it at the week-end, my first thought was: Omeopathic tuberose, diluted in soapy water. And I didn't give it a second thought. You do much more justice to the scent, though your non-love is apparent.
RépondreSupprimerSilvia: true. Don't love. Don't hate either. Can live without!
RépondreSupprimerI loved the notion of "tuberose spayed and sipping tea", right after "burping a mouthful of suds". Robin of NST described this one as "infusion de fleur non-specifique" - it certainly isn't tuberose red in tooth and claw, as I know (and am slightly wary around) the note!
RépondreSupprimerFlittersniffer, you could say it's a tuberose for the tuberose-averse, but then what's the point?
RépondreSupprimerWell, exactly - you could just use more polite and "mousy" floral notes in the first place rather than filing the cat's claws, as it were.
RépondreSupprimerOr declawing, which I'm virulently opposed to!
RépondreSupprimerCa c'est le comble!
RépondreSupprimerMy cat just walked over the keyboard and is nuzzling my typing hand as if to ask me to denounce declawing forthwith....
They *know*. Don't ask me how, they just do.
RépondreSupprimerAh, D., you have named two of my HG vetivers. Love Sycomore and Turtle V. A third beauty, in its quirky, charming way, is Tauer's Vetiver Dance - a whole different vetiver ballgame.
RépondreSupprimerI like the Prada vetiver because, while it's fresh and summery, it avoids that grapefruit note that's often paired with light vetivers. With Prada's, the emphasis is on the green.
Love the vetiver is the vintage Caron base, speaking of vetivers. I'm thinking Narcisse Noir . . . and the vetiver in vintage Chanel No. 19. For some reason, later formulations dumbed down that note. Don't know why.
Robin, vetiver is one of the materials I love the most, though I don't own/wear a huge number of vetiver scents. The grapefruit note is actually present in the essential oil, so it's not surprising a lot of vetivers emphasize it. Don't know the Tauer: I'm not on the blogger sample distribution circuit, and I tend not to order samples.
RépondreSupprimerReally must have a sniff of the Infusion de Vetiver.
Wow that is where the beauteous Uma Thurman gets her looks! Now what were we discussing? Oh yes, decaf tuberose. No thanks.
RépondreSupprimerNicola
Nicola, I was wondering whether someone would notice! Would you look at those legs? Kind of scandalous, aren't they?
RépondreSupprimerOh, BTW: NdT has just gone into production... Soon now!
" give off a you-won’t-catch-me-flashing-cleavage vibe."
RépondreSupprimer- Now I finally understand why no Prada has ever talked to me ( be it infusion ,iris, amber or whatever else). I find them all so bland and boring ... Bourgeois, no. I find Tresor bourgeois but in a full of life and joyous manner. Prada is like a frigid woman who pretends she does not care....