Hanae Mori “Butterfly”includes notes of black currant, wild strawberry, blackberry, blueberry, jasmine, ylang-ylang, rose, peony, sandalwood, Virginia cedar, Brazilian rosewood and almond tree. It’s a mixture of vanilla and musk but still smells fresh and clean. To be sure, you need to like gourmands to wear this if you do occasionally have a perfume sweet tooth like me, this is one of the best. This is just enough of an edge to remind you this is a grownup perfume and not a pre-teen body spray (or an actual cupcake). It might all be too much, but what keeps Hanae Mori on the right side of history is the delicate florals – rose, jasmine, peony – and a slightly sharp, soapy green note, similar to the dish-soap note in Rochas Tocade but with half the intensity. It’s not just melted sugar (ethyl maltol), but caramel sauce with butter and cream.
#HANAE MORI BUTTERFLY ROLLERBALL PERFUME CRACKER#
There’s the custardy aspect of ylang-ylang, the milky aspect of sandalwood, plus a toasted almond note like nuts in a graham cracker crust. This big pink glow is offset by a deliciously creamy base, all the materials chosen for richness. The primary fruit note is strawberry, but it’s more abstract than literal – like a pop-art painting of a strawberry.
Spray it on and you’ll smell a facsimile of a fruit tart from a French bakery: berries arranged just so and glistening with apricot jam. Butterfly, instead, was content to be pretty. Created by Bernard Ellena in 1995, just three years after Angel, Hanae Mori borrowed the apparently new idea of layering fruit over caramel, but skipped the massively pungent patchouli note that made Angel so shocking. The original Hanae Mori for women, sometimes known as “Butterfly” due to the bottle design, is a first-generation gourmand. I was recently in one of those moods, what Holly Golightly would call “the mean reds,” when such a palliative is called for, and my mind immediately went to Hanae Mori. My comfort scents are the equivalent of crème brûlée, which is to say, sugar and fat: perfume as mouthfeel. I can claim no such level of sophistication. 19 – perhaps because your mother wore it, or perhaps because the orris, vetiver, and galbanum are cool like a hand on a fevered head. I suspect there are those among you who, on an especially rough day, derive comfort from an elegant classic like Chanel No. Elisa on stress and the gourmand ways to fight it.
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