Scentzilla!

I think sometimes people are at a loss to understand how one can admire without liking. Pictured here is a small wasp nest tucked under the eaves of my house. Look at that perfectly mathematical eye-pleasing form. Isn’t it gorgeous? I admire it. But I do not like it, for wasp nests mean wasps that sting. In my own way, this is how I experience Lancome’s Tresor (1990 version.)

Tresor presents a view of femininity suited for ladies, not women. Cross your legs, mind the posture, take that gum out of your mouth, be pleasant and smile when people are talking to you, and please have a little pride and wear some makeup, but not too much! I make a lousy lady; Tresor has never fit me well. Its powdery sweetness, amaretto-like rose and apricot combo, all add up to something that smells like a lie on me. Oh but I do admire it. Let no one say the lady Tresor possesses no depth or power. The richness of its aroma is made all the more remarkable by the simplicity of composition. I think in some ways this is perfumer Sophia Grojsman’s most audacious fragrance. Tresor seems almost radical with its expression of hyper-femininity. I simply cannot wear it: it overwhelms and oppresses me because it turns into cloying treacle on my skin.

Consequently, I felt skeptical about my chances of pulling off the newly introduced Eau de Printemps (Sheer) version of Tresor. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how anyone could alter and lighten Tresor while retaining its basic character. It appeared to be a preposterous prospect. Ah, but what do I know? The Eau de Printemps is entirely Tresor while proving much more wearable. The major difference between them is that the powdered sweetness has been stripped down, though not removed altogether. Rose and fruit are married in as pleasing a manner as in the regular Tresor, but without the heaviness. Interestingly, Eau de Printemps has a slightly more palpable green woody feel in the base. The ambery, slightly vanillic oomph of the original remains intact, but is transposed into veil-like transparency. Tresor Eau de Printemps… fits me. I think it is a fine addition to Lancome’s line up, providing a wonderful option to those like myself who would love to finally be able to wear Tresor. It’s a waspless nest, if you will. I am unable to guess at what lovers of the original will think: will they take exception to the changes?

My only beef is with the packaging. Like Kimora Lee Simmons’ Goddess, Eau de Printemps also comes with a ring seated around the bottle neck. Unlike Goddess, this rose engraved ring is an elegant design element to introduce. But it sure ain’t functional. I am not going to wear it, and I like the way the bottle looks with it on. However, due to the fact that it is loose, it wants to plop off whenever I remove the cap to spray. It’s annoying, and like with Goddess, I must protest this Happy Meal approach to packaging. Do not give me cheesy prize trinkets with my perfume. Spend the money on a complimentary purse atomizer, or better yet, please just sodder that lovely ring as a permanent piece on the bottle.

Tresor Eau de Printemps (Tresor Sheer) is a limited edition offering. If it at all piques your interest, best to try it out now before it is gone.

*The Tresor bottle in the photo is my mom’s. I wasn’t kidding before, it really looks almost unused. Waiting endlessly for “special” occcasions that never happen. If you squint you can see a vacation picture of my parents in the frame in the background.