Dior
A unique visual signature based on accords, character, and seasonality
The red fruits burst forth with the intensity of crushed berries macerated in sugar syrup, immediately dominating any attempt at restraint. There's a sharp, almost alcoholic brightness that suggests raspberry ketones and strawberry esters working overtime, creating that unmistakable synthetic sparkle that registers as cheerful to some, headache-inducing to others. The roses are present but completely obscured, drowning in this fruit compote.
As the fruit cacophony settles—never disappearing, mind you—the Grasse rose absolute finally emerges with its characteristic honeyed, slightly spicy character, creating something closer to rose jam than fresh petals. The peony remains a ghost note, barely perceptible, whilst the sweetness only intensifies as the composition finds its true identity: a fruity-floral hybrid that sits firmly in the dessert-adjacent category. The powdery qualities begin their slow creep, softening those sharp synthetic edges into something rounder, warmer, though never truly sophisticated.
The white musk takes centre stage at last, delivering that familiar laundry-soft powderiness that blurs whatever remained of the rose's definition. What lingers is a sweet, musky cloud—pleasant enough, but utterly generic—the kind of scent trail you'd encounter in any department store beauty hall. The fruits have finally receded to a vague memory of sweetness, leaving behind that characteristic contemporary musk that could belong to dozens of fragrances, stripped of the personality that at least made the opening memorable.
Miss Dior Absolutely Blooming is François Demachy's study in unabashed femininity, a fragrance that trades complexity for sheer, unapologetic sweetness. The red fruits—think raspberry coulis and crushed strawberries—drench the roses in a syrupy embrace that borders on gourmand territory, though it never quite crosses that line. The Grasse rose absolute provides a honeyed richness that distinguishes this from mere berry-floral confections, offering a dark, almost jammy quality that grounds the composition's sweeter impulses. Yet there's an undeniable synthetic sheen here, a plasticky brightness that some will find juvenile and others refreshingly bold. The peony adds little more than a watery whisper beneath the rose's dominance, whilst the white musk in the base becomes powdery but never gains enough substance to anchor the sweetness properly.
This is the fragrance of someone who wants to be noticed, who chooses fuchsia over blush pink, who sprays it before brunching in a floral midi dress with white trainers. It lacks the sophistication of vintage Miss Dior or even the original Blooming, instead embracing a deliberately commercial sweetness that's more Charlotte Tilbury lipgloss than French perfumery heritage. The projection is significant—this isn't a skin scent—and whilst it may lack nuance, there's something admirable about its commitment to being exactly what it is: a candied rose bomb for those who find subtlety rather dull. Not for the faint-hearted or those who whisper when they could shout.
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3.6/5 (137)