Came across a bunch of my mum's miniatures from the mid 80's - mid 90's and OH MY GOD I've just tried this one, probably not in the best storage conditions but still wearable and I am absolutely in love! It opened with an animalic blast which knocked me off my feet and I've finally understood the true meaning of "this fragrance smells dirty", so if nothing else I'm glad I got to experience a perfume with real civet and castoreum. Which leads me to the fact that the opening was borderline fecal in the best possible way (I sound deranged, I'm aware, but it's one thing reading how these notes behave, another one experiencing it) plus some nondescript white flowers. I couldn't stop smelling my arm every couple of minutes. Minimal oakmoss in my miniature and frankly couldn't be more grateful because I hate the stuff, which is only starting to emerge after nearly an hour alongside some plum that reads quite jammy to me, or it could be the effect of the honey note. Tried this at night and could still smell it in the morning with a quite dry drydown, tempered a bit by musks and amber. Reapplied in the morning and I got the same results throughout the day. I only wish it were more opulent in the drydown, don't know if it's due to the storage conditions, its age or if it's really the fragrance but even so I would gladly get a full bottle of this if it didn't cost an enormity and in any case I will try it again when the weather is cooler, although in the sticky 40*C summer heat is a beast and I love it!

It's an inoffensive although lovely perfume, airy and slightly watery, very cozy, very safe unless of course one hates any one of the notes. Wouldn't have bothered to write a review of it if it weren't for the fact that today I found a sample spray hidden and forgotten for who knows how long (judging from the other samples it was with I'd say a good ten years) inside an unused wardrobe, so likely very well preserved. I spritzed it and couldn't stop thinking it smells exactly like a deodorant/body spray I had and used to love when I was a preteen in the mid-late 90's, Impulse Zen, or at least the memory I have of it. The notes listed for the body spray aren't useful to solve the mystery but the overall similarity was, to me or my memory of it, uncanny. Probably would eventually buy a bottle for nostalgia's sake alone.

Wanted this for so long, finally got it in time for the Summer, which it doesn't really seem people's recommended time to wear it. The thing is, I'm not totally sold on the seasonality of perfumes, all the more because I think this is the type of scent that blooms with the heat, since I've caught it smelling kinda sweaty on me (and right after a shower, so I know it wasn't really me). Obviously it's "sweaty" in a nice way. Well, not really nice, it's sort of dirty actually, it's the slutty vibe the perfume is supposed to have. But it's not a constant feature, and possibly the temperature helps it develop this way. So to the people missing this facet my suggestion is spritz it during a hot and humid day and see if anything changes. Curious as to know if it changes during the colder months and becomes a tame(r) powdery floral.

I love what CT does in makeup, even have one of her lipstick (only one because of their price, would have more items otherwise) and it's fabulous, nice formula, great colour, good staying power all in a luxe packaging. So I really wanted to like this perfume and was very interested on trying it, but a tiny voice inside my head kept popping up saying: "this might be a huge disappointment", so I didn't actively went looking for it. In the end I got the occasion when an eager salesgirl came up to me inside a House of Fraser last winter. Biggest mistake ever. I ended up with this thing on my wrist that assaulted my nose and not in a good way. It smelled cheap and conventional and took a lot of scrubbing to leave my skin. Not only that but the fragrance literally stuck to the woollen jumper and coat I was wearing for daaaaaaays so that I had to wash the jumper and air the coat to get rid of it. Not a fan. I even got a sample one day and spritzed it again to see if anything had changed, but I still dislike it. But of course it's a very personal thing and I actually thought that I remember having smelled something similar on a lot of women in the past, so I'm sure there is a market for it.

Warning: this is technically not a review, but rather a very long love letter/tale/diary page where I reminisce on my ongoing experience with this scent, as well as a high praise to competent, patient, insightful, and knowledgeable sales assistants. Proceed at your own risk. ;) 
I happened upon it some years ago, by accident. Picture this: one cool sunny winter late morning in Rome, the air is crisp but the sun has a touch of warmth, we're close to Christmas so decorations and lights are on and the atmosphere is festive. I was walking on a street full of shops when I suddenly marched into an old, slightly upscale, and very well-known perfume shop, went to one of the sales assistant with a request: I told him that I recently tried Prada Infusion d’Iris, liked the cleanliness and soapiness of the scent, but was very let down by the appallingly poor staying power (especially when compared to the price). Would he be able to recommend a similar perfume that wouldn’t be gone after an hour? He asked me a few questions, I mentioned, incidentally, that I tried and liked a lot Bas de Soie by Lutens in the recent past but that was not quite what I had in mind. If by this time you’re thinking how on earth can you go from Infusion d’Iris to Teint de Neige that have almost nothing in common but the iris note I would agree, but bear with me. I cannot praise enough how the sales assistant read me and listened to me, because he not only took in my appearance - brunette, mid-20s, red lipstick, cat eye, minimalist dark clothes, red wool coat - but also saw deeper than that. I have some friends that jokingly call me Diva, which I am anything but by the way, it’s just I am a little aloof when you first meet me but then I warm up. Anyway, he anticipated my needs and introduced me to something I didn’t know I liked myself: powder. I mean, I knew and I even loved the smell of talc powder, ten years before as a teenager I had briefly been obsessed with Bvlgari Petits and Mamans, what I mean is that I was not aware of my love for powdery scents on a conscious level. He said after a while that since I said no to Bas de Soie, which was one of his first choices for me (he definitely picked on the aloofness there), he was going to go on another route. We talked a little and eventually reduced the samples to three: Lutens Daim Blond, Teint de Neige and a third scent that for the life of me I can’t remember. After smelling them on the strips I discarded the forgotten third and spritzed the other two on the skin. At first I liked them both but almost immediately got the apricot in Lutens and I’m not really a fan of fruity perfumes, so that was more and more a no every minute that went by. On the other hand, with Teint de Neige, in addition to being love at first sniff, the infatuation grew with the passing of time. I didn’t buy it that day, the very competent shop assistant advised that I spend the day with it and see how it evolved on my skin. Not only it evolved beautifully, I could still smell it the next day after a shower. I went back a week later and got a bottle. Now it’s become my signature, I wear it almost every day, in winter and also in summer because I don’t believe in the seasonality of scents (sorry not sorry for the people around me), and although I refrain to perfume during daytime in summer it’s not really out of concern for the others, just for fear of the perfume reacting with the light. I am vain and selfish like that! ;) 
Sillage and staying power, for me, are huge to the point that the more aware people recognise me by it, like I went to a party at a friend’s house and the hostess, that knows me quite well but didn’t know I had arrived, asked from another room if I was there only because she recognised the trail of perfume in the house. Christmas time a couple of years ago I went back to see my parents and at night, when my mother hugged me at the airport said she missed my perfume (as well as me lol) which I applied in the morning, and then she said she smelled it again the next morning when I walked in the kitchen for breakfast. A lot of people commented on it when I enter a shop or on a train carriage. In conclusion, this perfume now it’s become me, I inhabit it, it’s a million things to me, like lace lingerie under a comfy cashmere jumper, it’s old and new, a silk vintage dress worn with a leather biker jacket. I’m not saying it’s a complex perfume, or a revolutionary concept, I think I feel this way because I identify with it so much by now. And even if I know it’s ridiculous I feel like it’s mine and mine only, also because I’ve never walked past anyone else who wore it. I think I also like it so much because it compensates my aloofness, as if with its powdery sweetness told other people that I’m not the Ice Queen that I might seem at first. Ultimately I think that was my unconscious reason for writing off Bas de Soie from the start, that’s one perfume I like a lot but probably fear it would play too much into my perceived standoffishness. One last thing: yes it’s true, Iris by L’erbolario, which I would have loved to love since Villoresi is not really in my price range, is almost the exact copy, albeit much flatter, but compared side by side with Teint de Neige smells so cheap and chemical and plasticky it literally hurts. Back when I still lived in Italy it was not unusual to walk past women doused in the knockoff, it was very popular for a while but, dear oh dear, the headaches that I got smelling that!