Bassavina

This smells exactly like some black tulips in my garden. Typical Demeter, no staying power whatsoever. Pleasant, if one-note.

I have a mini, probably from the version relaunched in 1991. All I can think of is a woman in fishnet stockings serving up a plate of warm gingerbread she made herself.

Mollie Parnis is listed in Perfume Intelligence as being from the house of Weil, and it's pedigree shows, if not in the particular notes, in the depth and quality of composition.

MP is fruity and floral, with that late-70s/approaching 80s tuberose kick, but it is no Amarige. Despite a distinct peach note, neither does it resemble Mitsouko. Some smell cherry and rose, and some call it a rosy chypre. Having shared some decants, here are some of the notes suggested by various sniffers:

•Top: Galbanum, peach, plum, cherry, orange blossom, anise, coriander

•Heart: Carnation, tuberose, lily, rose, jasmine, lily of the valley, heliotrope

•Base: Sandalwood, tonka, amber, civet, musk, vetiver, styrax, rosewood, oakmoss, leather, nitromusks

Mollie starts out astringent, it has verve and elegance. Something about it even reminds me of Constant Comment or blackcurrant tea. I bought it when it first came out at Cleveland's premiere downtown department store, Halle's. I was in my early 20s and this was my first "expensive" purchase—$28 in 1978 for 2 oz EdP. I wore it for me, yet people—men and women—followed me around when I wore it. It was discontinued—don't know when—and I stretched those 2 oz over two decades, until I found some on ebay. I don't know anything that smells remotely like it, the presence of galbanum knocks the tuberose down to size. Mollie Parnis, the child of Russian immigrants, was an American designer whose foundation was dressmaking; she started in the "shmatta" trade of the Lower East Side and became designer to first ladies. A biographer states her fashion philosophy: Fashion was meant to enhance the intrinsic beauty of a woman, not overpower her, which is exactly what this unique, elegant scent does.

Myself, I love its fruity—yet not remotely sweet—opening; it suggests an unripe peach, or perhaps the tannin laden skin. I own the splash EdP, apply it with a cotton ball and tuck said cotton into my bra. Periodically thoughout the day, those peachy top notes waft up for a quick hello :)

The start is pure Pepto-Bismol. Seriously, mentholated, wintergreeny (must be methyl salicylate), and medicinal, it takes a good 15 minutes before I sniff my wrist voluntarily. Is what follows worth that being sucker punched up front with a whole load of what-the-hell? Yes, albeit an odd introduction on the order of Petruchio meets Kate, leaving you to wonder just who was tamed after all?

But, oh, that after all. Buttered tropical flowers. To me this phase is a dead ringer for Tuvaché Jungle Gardenia, so I'll put up with that perverse start to get there, relieved to find what I want for once in a fragrance still in production.

I have three beloved fragrances, all vintage, that can be described as aldehydic chypre with, in addition to the bergamot/rose/oakmoss signifier, a heart of white flower, vetiver, clary sage, plus what my nose detects as a civet, whether or not it's listed. It is an intoxicating yet comforting smell I think of as "lotiony", and I've yet to experience it in a modern scent. The other two are My Sin and Miss Dior. I would love to find this exquisite drydown in a modern fragrance. So far, no luck. Of the three Antilope is my favorite.

ps - The modern versions, esp the EDC in the hexagonal bottle as pictured, bears no resemblance. Go vintage or go home on this one.