Miu Miu L’Eau Bleue vs L’Eau Rosee
So let’s get straight to it.
If you like Miu Miu, and particularly L’Eau Bleue (as I do), I’m not sure that Rosee is a sure thing.
What I adore about Bleue is its sappiness. It makes me imagine those crisp, vibrant green leaves of the seemingly innocent little Muguet flowers and their delicate little stems, snipped off from their cool dewy spot nestled under an oak tree somewhere. Probably with Elle Fanning doing the snipping. I think she’d have a confident way with a pair of scissors…
Bleue gets spicier as the Lily of the Valley develops and it’s matched with this test tube wood note, akigalawood, which is apparently a sort of patchouli rinsed of all its smutty earthiness until all that’s left behind is a slightly marine-y, pale, sort of soft driftwood note. It carries through that catch-your-breath vegetal sharpness that’s not peppery to my nose, just spring-like, like the tiny sharp little teeth of a fluffy kitten. It’s really just those two elements to me (OK I can smell tuberose in there as well but maybe it’s a fantasy). And that’s all I want Bleue to be thanks very much.
Rosee, however, seems to replace this lovely wood with a musk-stick.
Which is fine, I guess, but different. Rosee opens sweeter and lighter with a sheer turkish delight quality that comes from cassis – or blackcurrant to you – handled very expertly by perfumer Daniela Andrier (also responsible for this delight). It’s still got that spring-like fizziness but it’s lost its snippy scissor association for me now it’s in that pink bottle that makes everyone think of roses.
Rosee, for the record, refers to dew, not roses.
And it IS still dewy, with a light watery character than makes you think of rosewater. But it also has this aldehydic lemony laundry musk that I’m not so fond of. So my heart remains with L’Eau Bleue… Snip snip!