To a Wild Rose

Initially sepia, with glimmers of a technicolor dreamscape peaking through, only to shift back to Sepia. Somewhere between a wish and a dream. The plastic flowers feel oddly charming. Why are trees so vicious? What makes poppy fields so soft, sweet, and dreamy? Horses that shift color! A wizard, a witch's broom, and all it takes is a bucket of water? Yet, after it all, I find I crave the bitter thorns. Transportative, but there's no place like home. Bleed me out.

Dim rays of sunlight peak through dense canopy to reveal a forest floor thick with leaves and moss. Deep purple roses barely poke through the undergrowth. Dainty, sugared soap bubbles hover over the scene. Vintage Avon at its best!

Rose is one of the oldest perfume notes, and demonstrates with vast landscape a plethora of sub-characterizations, nuances, and provocations. Shape-shifting odors and infinite combinations with other worldly scents, have captured audiences throughout history, and continue to beguile even the best of perfume lovers. Many of us lucky enough to have a nose built to detect subtle variations, and a compulsion to collect moments of intrigue manifested through emotion, often compile these threads into memory. For us, perfume becomes a powerful story teller, weaving tapestries and landscapes of times long passed, and becoming a very vivid touch point in grounding to the present. To A Rose is not a rose perfume, but rather the perfumer's interpretation of earth's love letter to roses. It is Autumn's carnal moss mourning the last falling petals, while the soft gasps of rose sweeten at the cusp of decay. Green stems linger for a compressed instant, channeling valuable stores of nutrients deep into damp root systems in preparation for winter, finalizing the season of color into the dreariness of cold. In this way, To A Rose exists in contrast. Melancholy chords of youthful beauty lost, sweetened with the wistful wisdom of nature's continuous renewal. A nod to the past, and certainly worth consideration. Embarking as a whole, dressed in traditional chypre fashion, bearing aldehydic attire consistent with the era of its genesis. This haunting scent proudly takes its place amongst the great story-tellers of its time.

My sister tells me this is what my maternal Grandmother wore. She was born in 1912. So I, her Grandson, got a bottle of this and just sprayed it on. Immediately I get vibes of Moss Cologne by Bornikoff. Makes sense given the prominence of the mossy accord. Quite unisex. Its an EDC so its very, very reserved, even more so than the aforementioned Moss Cologne, which drops off a cliff in 30 minutes. I sprayed To a Wild Rose very heavily on skin and clothes. Its a very nice mossy powder in the drydown, slightly sweet. The rose is a dewey green, and very reserved. Rose is not even the second most prominent accord. Powdery should be a listed accord. Again, as masculine as it is feminine appropriate, and maybe more so.

I bought a newer vintage bottle of To A Wild Rose. It's in much better condition that the first one. It is the mossy, floral, softly sweet scent I'd hoped it would be, and I would love to wear it often. It strikes me as an evening scent but it has a balance between the notes that feels appropriate for day, at least in cooler weather. I'll probably look for a modern scent that resembles it to avoid using this up, since it's discontinued.