Perfumer Mona di Orio died unexpectedly yesterday. The perfume blogosphere and the group of Facebook perfumistas where I often chat with friends were full of sadness and consternation. I noted this, and though I feel sad for her family, it is in that vague, I-didn’t-know-her sort of way.
Because I didn’t know her.
Friends and fellow bloggers praised her creations. They loved Carnation; I didn’t bother trying it because it’s not about the carnation flower, it’s named after blushing skin. They loved Jabu; I didn’t wangle a sample because it’s orange blossom and jasmine. They loved Oiro and Nuit Noire, they loved the Les Nombres d’Or collection from Vanille through Cuir to Musc; the notes didn’t appeal to me and I’ve never smelled any of those. I think those bottles are gorgeous, a true perfume-lover’s kind of bottle: beautiful, solid, a pop-the-champagne-cork joy to open, or so I would assume. The idea of opening a bottle gives me little thrills, even though I’ve never actually touched one. The only Mona di Orio creation I’ve smelled is Tubereuse from the Les Nombres d’Or collection, because as a matter of habit I get my hands on every tuberose fragrance I possibly can. Also, Angela at Now Smell This rather liked it, and I admire Angela’s taste.
I did not like it. I’m still not sure why. Was I having a bad skin day? Was it interacting badly with whatever I showered with? Was it me?
I’ll give it a shot again. But I still feel that I didn’t know Mona di Orio. For those of who did know her, even if it is in that “Hey, she made something great that gives me joy,” sort of way, my condolences. May she rest in peace.
Image from Fragrantica.