This bottle is a ridiculous size. Even if I wore it every day and twice on Sundays, I’d not get through this bottle in a year. But when I had the choice of half a pint of Mitzah or no Mitzah any more, ever, yes, of course I took a bigger case to Paris last year just so I could lug this home.

I was foolish enough to fall for Dior’s Mitzah when it was already starting to enter an uncertain existence. By the time I’d made enough of a dent in the partial bottle I’d bought online to be certain this would be one of my perennials, it had already been banished from the shelves. (I know, I phoned every stockist in the UK).

I’m glad it still exists, and that it’s still being produced, but falling for “no, madame, bottles of Rara Avis are only available in our Paris boutique” scents is a pain in the arse, though better than chasing an ever-dwindling supply of discontinued wild unicorns across eBay. (And ml for ml, it’s reasonably priced compared to an awful lot of new “prestige” scents. Compared to the worse offenders, that perfume maths works even if you throw in a trip to France…)

Mitzah is one of the perfumes I reach for when I just want to smell really good.

Mitzah is drenched with rose, labdanum, incense, spice, and honey, but sidesteps a lot of the cliches of amber (and oh please don’t make me use the word “oriental”) perfumes: it’s not sticky-sweet, it doesn’t make you feel like you’ve kicked over the spice rack, and it’s surprisingly weightless for something so rich. You expect the density of ganache, but it’s the airiest mousse instead.

It is impeccably polished and smooth, but relaxed enough that you don’t feel like you are letting the side down if you are slumming about. It doesn’t demand best frocks or ironed shirts, which is just as well because perfumes that come with a dress code are just rude.

Have you ever chased a perfume around, trying to track down a bottle?

originally posted 25th March 2019