Reviews of Paloma Picasso / Mon Parfum by Paloma Picasso


As far as the notes go, I definitely smell hyacinth and rose, along with civet, a touch of green galbanum, and honey. Everything else is present but not as forward. And I can’t pick them out without seeing the notes. The longevity is amazing, and the sillage is a touch softer than the smelling directly on the skin, which has a tiny bit of a sharp quality, but not on a negative way.
I don’t normally like civet. And hyacinth, though I do like it, is usually presented in a very prom and proper and sort of uptight way. This is not uptight.
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It's not only pedals that are dropping, though. Drawers and knickers are dropping down after this bombast, as the heart exposes more than just ripe florals, someone or something's hind quarters have sat in the flower patch. I almost hear "ANIMAL! ANIMAL! ANIMAL!" from the eponymously named Muppet as he flails his bandy arms and bangs on the drums. The notoriety of Paloma Picasso EDP has come into full view, and it's enough to make one blush.
Yes, the note breakdown shows a cute little civet and an industrious, fussy little beaver, but there seems like there are other little whiffy, furry creatures here getting their oozing bums into a mess of trouble, barely kept in check by the woody, mossy guardians of the forest. So all of you who feel safest with vanilla, praline, caramel, chocolate, raspberry, strawberry with sprinkles and sugar cubes and ambroxan ennui must steer clear of this. You could not handle this. It's just too sexy. Too damn sexy.
Nobody will accuse the wearer of being donned with a niminy-piminy, delicate scent of pink feminine sensibility. A woman who would wear this would be my kind of woman. A man who would wear this would be my kind of man. Did I just come out as bisexual? Yep. Now you know...



I can't get over how many of the notes within it are obviously natural essential oils... jasmine, ambrette seed, oakmoss, bergamot, ylang, patchouly, angelica, coriander, all exquisitely natural. The castoreum and civet might even be the real-deal, too. Now this is the sort of thing they still did back in the 1970's and 1980's: $40 would buy you an EDP just brimming with authentic natural oils. Today, you won't find a complex EDP with loads of naturals for under $200. Anything below that is likely to be all-synthetic, or have a great preponderance of synthetic components.
This scent reminds me, in its curious medicinal herbality, with things like Balmain IVOIRE or Marilyn Miglin PHER'OMONE. Some have called it "the feminine YSL KOUROS" (though, for me, Schiaparelli SHOCKING holds that particular honor). It could be the heavyweight cousin of Clinique AROMATICS ELIXIR, or like a concentrated extrait version of Myrurgia MAJA. I had expected PP to be austere, sharp and cruelly chic like Piguet BANDIT, but no, the floralcy, buried as it is in herbs and animalics, is still quite "pretty", and a certain tart/citrus fruitiness never lets the scent become too imperiously austere.
For being a "1980's Dynasty shoulderpad" "power" scent, it does not have a wild and invasive sillage, but sits rather concentratedly on the skin.
I agree with others-- this scent is a modern masterpiece of its type. This is oldschool French perfumery "comme il faut", the way "they don't do it anymore". I don't think a woman today under 40 would, in her wildest dreams, wear a scent like this. Which is a shame, maybe.
Definitely ultra-glam stuff... opera, classy soiree, pearls, expensive shmattas, your good shoes. Not a PTA, church, office or grocery store fragrance at all.




Her next for daily wear was Paloma Picasso perfume. It seems to me that it was more Civet driven in the Late 80's early 90's. It had an over the top Honeyed Piss note like Ho Hang Club. Loved it on her.
Seems that it is still a bit skanky and has lost the bloom. Still available and discounted often.


With a foundation of patchouli, vetiver, a slightly caramellic amber and moss, it builds into one assertive eau de parfum. It's forceful, with impressive staying power. There's not a weak bone in its body.
It adds up to an unsweet, slightly oily, deep ruby floral than makes a good edgy masculine.
This creation (by the otherwise unknown Francis Bocris) echoes the severity of the rose-oud, but in place of Noble Rot it pairs the sheen of rose with a textured chypre base. It doesn't appear in long white robes - but the austere elegance of black lace; austere - but never cold - Mine is a proud and passionate perfume.
Some 40 years old, and rather overlooked, Mon Parfum deserves to be better known - like The Great Gate of Kiev by Mussorgsky.



A strong blend of bergamot,corinder and carantion meld over a rich heart of patchouli,ylang ylang,mimose and jasmine while a deeply sensual and animalic marrige of civet,oak moss, amber,sandalwood and musk provide depth nd a elemnt of mystery in the dry down as makes an elixir of pure womanly seduction.this is very enticing for evening wear.perfect for autumn and winter.in one word timeless.

7/10

I just don't get all the hype about this scent - my sample is an edp.
Barbara Herman was impressed - "green, floral, woody, spicy, mossy, animalic" and dubbed it a 1940s type chypre with an overdose of castoreum. Turin gave it four stars and dubbed it simply, a "floral chypre," noting it reminded him of Cabochard and Givenchy III. [I do not find that similarity.]
Top notes: Coriander, Rosewood, Bergamot
Heart notes: Rose, Geranium, Tuberose, Jasmine, Muguet, Ylang
Base notes: Patchouli, Vetiver, Amber, Musk, Civet, Castoreum, Benzoin, Oakmoss
Impressive on first meeting as a celebrity scent, but unable to keep up its interest over time.

Paloma Picasso opens on a big, brash accord of green jasmine, patchouli, peaches, and bergamot. The scale is huge and the intent is clearly to impress, then dominate. A rich rose note soon arrives to underscore the jasmine, while moss and labdanum base notes tie the bergamot into a recognizable chypre accord. In both its sheer mass and its basic structure, Paloma Picasso smells like a jasmine-based variant on the rose chypre style of its mid-1980s contemporaries Paris, Beautiful, and Knowing. Which is to say that it's completely at odds with the current trend of minimalist chic.
While no fan of olfactory minimalism myself, Paloma Picasso's flamboyance probes the boundaries of good taste. It aims at glamour but winds up smelling garish, and I can't help feeling self conscious when I'm wearing it. A few hours with Paloma Picasso leave me craving a nice, brisk eau de Cologne. Or a shower. Paloma Picasso doesn't smell especially bad - it's just that unlike Beautiful, Paris, or Knowing among the rose chypres, Opium among the monumental orientals, or Boucheron among grand scale florals, Paloma Picasso doesn't quite have the elegance or grace to offset its heft.
As you may deduce from my comments so far, sillage, projection, and endurance on the skin are all enormous, so Paloma Picasso's in no danger of going unnoticed. The big, bold floral chypre doesn't develop so much as (very slowly) fade away into a soapy rose, moss, and amber drydown that clings to the skin well past Paloma Picasso's already lengthy active lifespan. I can understand the affection this scent garners, but I don't enjoy it much myself.



If you like heavy fragrances like Dior's Poison, CK's Obsession or Jean Patou's Joy, this could quite possibly be in your collection already.
Paloma Picasso is one of those rich, heady, potent florals. Although dated, this fragrance has sex appeal. In a way it's a power scent, something that one can spritz on and instantly feel in control and defined.
I'll agree that this is not a fragrance for young girls or the light of heart, Paloma Picasso suits a woman with guts. The dryness, an element from its chypre quality, makes this fragrance all the more likable and all the more mature.
This fragrance is a sillage monster, there is no doubt about it. It screams, "I'm here, I'm proud, I'm wild and I'm a real woman."
Paloma Picasso is a scent that piques your curiousity. I am still discovering this fragrance with its many layers and complexities. If this re-formulated version is supposed to be less complex than the original, I can only dream of how wonderful the pre-formulated Paloma Picasso must have been.

So far, of the 40 scents I've seriously tried, Paloma and Ivoire de Balmain are indeed very closely related to NdSP. All go through similar stages on my skin: green opening with various strong players popping up and stepping back, not all of which I recognize, but all of which are interesting to me; early drydown (after 15-30-45 minutes) I start smelling the "oriental" wave, which I gather are the spices and perhaps the beginnings of the woods; then the long-term drydown -- after an hour and as long as it goes, which varies -- the part I love most. Wisps of the opening greens, smoke-rings of the decadent spices, and the base. Oh the base. I am still buying samples and reading largely because I want to understand that base. Is it the much-mourned, now nearly banned oakmoss? Is it an interplay of oakmoss and other tenacious basenotes as mixed by master noses? It's the drydowns that are most related to alchemy for me.
Paloma is close to NdSP, not in detail but in overall shape. But its drydown is not as enchanting to me. I like it -- I smile when I catch a whiff -- but it doesn't make me excited to smell more, and talk about it, and get to the bottom of WHAT IS THAT INCREDIBLE SMELL?! as I do with NdSP (every time).
Ivoire de Balmain is a little different, a little sharper, a little more assertive. I do like it, but it lacks some of the roundedness and balance that I think both NdSP and Paloma have. It keeps a slightly irritating, maybe attention-grabbing, character throughout. Ultimately, though, its drydown is disappointing to me, staying with the nose-clawing sharp greens and soapiness, never letting in the spices and -- the thing that might be what makes me love NdSP so much -- the completely different type of bitterness and warmth that comes from tagetes (marigold). Ivoire is one my husband asks me about, in his hesitant and deeply respectful way, because he doesn't much care for perfume that smells like PERFUME, if you know what I mean, and he came close to asking me to scrub it off. It certainly projects the most of any green I've tried yet. I may try it again in extremely small amounts and see what he thinks as well as what I think.
Ultimately, I guess that just being a green chypre doesn't guarantee I'll like it. They are remarkably similar in many ways, and I expect they smell mostly the same to people who aren't interested in perfume.
