5 Perfumes from Masque Milano : Reviews

Elisa reviews 5 fragrances from Masque Milano.

The word masque, with its auto-glamorous French ending, has two associations for me. On the one hand I think of masquerade balls, those opulent Carnival season events dating back to the 15^th century, and that beautiful scene in the 1997 film Wings of the Dove, where Helena Bonham Carter runs through the dark streets of Venice dressed as a toreador. On the other, I think of plague masks—not as celebratory, to be sure, but they do have some connection to perfume. At the time, people believed that disease was spread through miasma, or the literal stink of death in the air. It made sense to them that if they blocked the smell, they would be protected from the disease. So they stuffed the long beak of the plague mask with aromatic materials—herbs, spices, incense and resins, ambergris, rose petals.

Masque, a small niche line based in Milan, currently has nine fragrances created by eight different noses (given, supposedly, no budget limits) and organized around the idea of an opera (Act I, Act II, and Act III). That may sound a bit pretentious, and I don’t understand it myself—what does Times Square have to do with Montecristo or a mandala? This would be a bizarre opera. But I think you’ll see that this house is not without a sense of humor, and most importantly, the perfumes smell fantastic.

Montecristo

Montecristo was the first scent from the Masque line that I tried, and still my favorite. It’s a dark, decadent mix of every manly material known to (sorry) man—tobacco, booze, leather, patchouli, cedar, labdanum, and one of the best sweaty musk notes I’ve ever experienced. It’s not cumin, just a very warm, peppery animalic note that feels like being wrapped in furs. As I said in my article on “perfumista bait,” it’s like pheromones turned up to 11. This is what men on historical romance novel covers should smell like. (Scratch and sniff?)

Romanza

I love the copy on the back of the little sleeve that holds my sample—instead of top, middle, and bottom, the notes are presented as “The Appearance (DANDY’S TOUCH),” “The Soul (HEDONIST BOUQUET)” and “The Ineluctable (TIME REVENGE).” What?! Okay, forget all that. Romanza is an intensely green floral in a ‘70s style, heavy on the narcissus, with bitterly dry top notes and a woody drydown reminiscent of some of Laurie Erickson’s creations. When I sprayed it on a strip, I kept smelling it over and over for days in disbelief, because you just don’t run across this kind of thing in newer lines very much. If you like green, put this on your “try” list.

Mandala

Though the name is taken from a Sanskrit symbol, Mandala strikes me as the perfect Christmas incense—when you spray it on, it smells just like a pomander (an orange pierced with cloves). Then you begin to smell this gorgeous incense, a blend of frankincense and myrrh fit for the three wise men, plus a note that reminds me of sandalwood soap. To my mind the best incenses smell purifyingly clean, like a cleanse for the soul, and yet mysterious. In Hinduism and Buddhism, mandalas are used as a spiritual aid in focus and meditation, and this perfume really evokes that mood, both centering and numinous.

Times Square

At first sniff the full cacophony of Times Square is, like the place itself, both overwhelming and a little ridiculous—it smells like taxi cab air fresheners and candied nuts from a street vendor and fake cherry flavor (must be that “glossy lipstick accord”). This mess seems to be intentional—the press release that accompanied it said “New York stinks.” But after a bit it calms down and you start to smell this expensive smelling, suede-like osmanthus and tuberose accord—this must represent the walking-into-a-fancy-hotel-lobby part of the trip—with a lingering nuttiness (hazelnut—probably a tourist carrying a giant Toblerone bar). In its naming, of course, but also its style, Times Square reminds me of some of the tackier Bond No. 9’s (but it’s not as classic as, say, Broadway Nite or Chinatown). On the whole, not all that wearable—I just can’t imagine choosing to smell like this very often. But it’s fun for a night.

Tango

To oversimplify things slightly, the two materials dancing this tango are jasmine and vanilla. It’s a very rich, capital-e Evening-appropriate floriental, related to Parfums de Nicolaï Sacrebleu but to my mind more dramatic. What’s special about it, I think, is the subtlety of the supporting details (just a wisp of spice) and an especially good vanilla section, boozy and complex. (I think of Ina Garten instructing us to use “good vanilla.”) The far drydown has a tinge of that delicious sweaty amber note from Montecristo. Beautiful! (Or should I say Bravo!)

Have you tried this line? What are your favorites from it?

Photography by Bois de Jasmin, Duomo di Milano