Seeking a theme for perfumes this week, my attention turned to the minis in my curio cabinet. I’ve used up a few in the past, and given others away, but most of these have sat neglected as they are vintage references, or I got them as gifts with purchase and didn’t fall in love, or bought them mainly for the bottles (Somewhere and Osmanthus).

I have a soft spot for miniature replicas of things, particularly if they have moving parts, although I don’t collect them—I never had a dollhouse or anything like that. Their designs reflect care, thoughtfulness, and often craftsmanship. So, mini perfume bottles are in a league of their own, and the truer to the full-sized bottle, the better. The ones in the photo are all splash except for Osmanthus, which is really a travel spray.

Dior J’adore eau de parfum (Calice Becker, 1999)

I must have walked past this and its flankers in malls countless times over the years without ever being particularly curious to try it. J’adore found its way to me as a gift with purchase of some skincare products. Sweet pear! Super juicy, yet not cloying, it sparkles in a slightly sticky way like hairspray, a note of which accompanies the opening briefly. This larger-than-life pear is supposedly enriched by melon, peach, mandarin, and bergamot, surrounding a floral heart dominated by jasmine, tuberose, and freesia, with other blossoms harmonizing in the background. This phase recalls some shampoos. A woody base is sweetened by vanilla and more fruit.

Chanel N° 19 Parfum (Henri Robert, 1970)

As a neophyte perfumista six years ago, I quickly learned that vintage Chanel was a grail of sorts, exquisite beyond anything the EdP or EdT (especially modern versions) could represent. When I saw a 7.5-mL bottle for auction, I pounced on it. This was before I learned the tricks of online bidding (setting a maximum bid) and I sat at the edge of my seat during the last seconds, increasing my bid manually in small increments… and ended up paying double my original bid.

Would I do it again? Probably not. I can’t say I regret it, either, as I’ll be eking it out over a very long time. It has some particulates in it, and the top notes seem to have gone off slightly, as it opens like a generic vintage floral… but only for a few split seconds before it regains its poise and becomes immediately recognizable as Chanel N° 19.

The parfum is warm and round, though greener on the wrist with galbanum. Under the shirt, it’s very floral, strong on orris and rose, enveloped by an almost unctuous ylang-ylang that makes the aura lean fruity. The green note blends into the wrist eventually and allows the orris and vetiver to come forward. Warmed, the flowers worn close to the chest feel radiant, and more yellow than white, perhaps even a little honeyed. With oakmoss in the base, Chanel N° 19 Parfum asserts her identity as a juicy chypre while keeping her edges smooth like a comforting lotion.

Gucci Gucci Nobile (Kathy Gurevich, 1988)

I’ve written before about how my first bottle of Gucci Nobile as a teenager made me feel on top of the world when I sprayed it on, without any associations—purely by virtue of the fragrance itself. Wanting to recapture that feeling, I bought a 5-mL mini splash in a boxed set with the lotion and shower gel on eBay for a pretty good price. The experience was unfortunately discounted as well, as Gucci Nobile does not seem to have aged well. It smells like freshly showered, clean shaven skin. Opening with a burst of fresh grasses, it is the epitome of artificially green, clear, conformist masculinity. It’s just not the same as in my memory, although it hasn’t gone off—it’s still got the sharpness. Perhaps I’ve outgrown it. If I sniff deeply immediately after splashing it on, I can just about almost reclaim that lost magicality… the magic ingredient smells like licorice root and is probably balsam fir and oakmoss. The notes list is surprisingly kitchen-sink for an EdT that’s supposed to be straightforward. A prominent lavender note maintains this impression.

[Online sources do not seem to be too confident about who created this, but Kathy Gurevich is the only name I have come across in relation to Gucci Nobile.]

Chanel Le Lion (Olivier Polge, 2020)

Love for Le Lion roared like the animal among perfumistas when this was launched during the pandemic, a symbol of strength for many during a trying time. I haven’t heard much about it recently. As someone who entered the world of perfumery thinking that “amber” referred to the color of many popular women’s perfumes in the ’80s and ’90s, I was a bit shocked to learn, slowly, that I wasn’t as much of a fan of the genre as I thought. Labdanum was a challenging ingredient for me for a while. I’ve started to get along better with amber, but it still doesn’t become me.

Le Lion is undeniably an amber. It starts with powder, rubber, flowers, labdanum, and a lemony brightness to balance the depth. This must be the furry mane, dusty and warm… and refined, like a high-quality luxury soap. I remember taking a sniff when I got this mini as a gift with purchase a few years ago and thinking it really wasn’t for me at all, so I never wore it. Now, I like it more than expected, although it’s still not really for me. The drydown is resinous and impenetrable, spicy even. Listed base notes are patchouli, vanilla, musk, and sandalwood, and the latter brings me close to temple territory. It can get a bit too much. Still, it really is quite beautiful.