Bvlgari will launch Omnia Coral this spring. The new fragrance for women is the fourth flanker to the original Omnia (it follows Omnia Crystalline, Omnia Amethyste and Omnia Green Jade), and was inspired by red corals and the 'shimmering colors of summer'...

I have always liked mimosa in fragrances. Rather, I should clarify: I have always liked Acacia farnesiana (cassie) and/or scents with heliotropin. The term "mimosa" is a bit of a moving target, even in botany, as there are about 400 species or cultivars of plants under this genus, mostly with pink or mauve flowers, in addition to many other shrubs or trees that produce poofy, cartoonish blossoms and were historically lumped in under the name by the public — silk tree being an example. The sweet, warm, powdery smell we encounter in perfumery, with its facets of almond, honey, violet, craft paste and fresh cucumber, comes from distillation of the soft, feathery yellow petal clusters of the acacia species that most of us in the West know as mimosa flowers. One of my most vivid and happy memories of visits to France is the bushels of mimosa branches tossed out during "La Bataille de Fleurs" or flower parade during the Carnaval de Nice, which winds its way along what must be one of the world's most beautiful thoroughfares, the Promenade des Anglais.

For all its cheerful straight-forwardness, mimosa appears to be a hard note to use in perfume. There are very few credible soliflores and many mainstream fragrances with a strong mimosa presence come off as airheaded and shampoo-like. With the IFRA restrictions on heliotropin, it has become even more difficult, if not impossible, to base a fragrance around the flower. Looking to include perfumes with some availability in this list, I found that almost all the mimosa fragrances I'd enjoyed at the beginning of my perfume education in the mid-noughties were discontinued or reformulated. Caron Farnesiana, long the great classic of mimosa perfumes, has gone through so many versions that it is hard to keep track of them all...

From Atelier Cologne, a "discovery set" in the Orange Sanguine fragrance: "Enclosed in an elegant Venetian blue gift box and tied with our signature aubergine leather ribbon" with Orange Sanguine Petite Cologne ( 30 ml) plus an Orange Sanguine Soap, a leather case, a miniature funnel and a sample pack. $65 at Neiman Marcus...

To start things off, we've got the eminently covetable (and reportedly as good as it looks) Vol de Nuit Powder Spray from Guerlain: "Inspired by the legendary Vol de Nuit fragrance, this silky, ethereal loose powder creates a light-reflecting veil with a subtle iridescent finish. The powder is perfumed with the mythical Vol de Nuit fragrance. Apply on the face, body and hair for an allover glow!" $87 for 17.5 g at Nordstrom...

From Robert Piguet, crystallized versions of their iconic Fracas perfume...

Twice, recently, I have walked past a rack of discount CDs that includes a "Best of the 90s" compilation. The cover features a pair of pouting Material Girls with tousled two-tone hair, red lipstick, neon off-the-shoulder shirts and black vests and leggings. I did not look at the track list, because I was so put out by the photo. I was a teenager in those pre-Y2K times and I think the producers of this album might have missed the last nine years of the decade. When I graduated high school in 1997, that look had already made at least two rounds as a retro Halloween costume. Eddie Vedder and Pearl Jam were no longer touring and Kurt Cobain had been dead for three years, but my yearbook confirms we were still wearing plenty of jeans and plaid flannel,¹ though people had mercifully stopped requesting Nirvana's Heart-shaped Box, possibly the world's least danceable song, at every party. Girls wore straight hair, pixie-cut or long and center-parted. I had a programming geek boyfriend, and after a few years of BBS posting using my family's agonizingly slow dial-up connection, I had decided my future was at a school nicknamed "M.I.T. North". There, my friends traded their jeans for Microserf khakis. Britpop groups and Radiohead were popular, as was genial stoner music of the Dave Matthews Band variety. Everybody seemed to be reading Guns, Germs, and Steel, watching animated shows on TV and going to a lot of violent, angry movies starring Kevin Spacey or Brad Pitt.² In North America, the Starr report was out and events like Columbine happened, and it felt then like we were living through a very sad, cynical, disaffected era. Looking back after 9/11 and the global recession, however, and a few horrific natural disasters and inconvenient truths later, the nineties seem to me today like oddly sincere, hopeful years. I never expected to be a nostalgic old fool so soon.

I wasn't obsessed with perfume then. I vaguely recall tropical fruity or citrus-clean skin scents like Calvin Klein ck One and Clinique Happy being very popular...

Bvlgari has launched two new limited edition flankers for men, Aqva Pour Homme Toniq and Aqva Pour Homme Marine Toniq...

Hey, Bvlgari Mon Jasmin Noir. Armani called. They want Idole d'Armani back. Wait — hold the phone! It's Estée Lauder. They're demanding their Sensuous Noir. Now all the lines are ringing, and it looks like it's a bunch of celebuscents. They're complaining you stole their jasmine-plum-sandalwood-patchouli secret formula!

O.K., maybe I'm not being fair. After all, I chucked my sample of Idole d'Armani in the garbage a long time ago, and it's been months since I smelled Sensuous Noir, and that was on a hot day in a mall in Billings, Montana. And the celebuscents? I really try not to be a snob, but if Robin doesn't give them the green light in a review, I mostly stay away.

I also admit to having a misguided fantasy about how perfumers work. In my dream world, a perfumer — let's say Sophie Labbé, who had a hand in both Bvlgari Jasmin Noir and Mon Jasmin Noir — pushes open her casement window. She inhales the summer breeze of Grasse, France, and asks herself, "What work of art will I make today? Bvlgari, a luxury company, has asked me to create a light fragrance based on jasmine as a flanker to Jasmin Noir. I know, I'll devise a fragrance that evokes the sensual languor of an evening in the Mediterranean, but is airy enough — like a long ago, romantic memory — to be enjoyed during the day..."]]>

Hey, Bvlgari Mon Jasmin Noir. Armani called. They want Idole d’Armani back. Wait — hold the phone! It’s Estée Lauder. They’re demanding their Sensuous Noir. Now all the lines are ringing, and it looks like it’s a bunch of celebuscents. They’re complaining you stole their jasmine-plum-sandalwood-patchouli secret formula!

O.K., maybe I’m not being fair. After all, I chucked my sample of Idole d’Armani in the garbage a long time ago, and it’s been months since I smelled Sensuous Noir, and that was on a hot day in a mall in Billings, Montana. And the celebuscents? I really try not to be a snob, but if Robin doesn’t give them the green light in a review, I mostly stay away.

I also admit to having a misguided fantasy about how perfumers work. In my dream world, a perfumer — let’s say Sophie Labbé, who had a hand in both Bvlgari Jasmin Noir and Mon Jasmin Noir — pushes open her casement window. She inhales the summer breeze of Grasse, France, and asks herself, “What work of art will I make today? Bvlgari, a luxury company, has asked me to create a light fragrance based on jasmine as a flanker to Jasmin Noir. I know, I’ll devise a fragrance that evokes the sensual languor of an evening in the Mediterranean, but is airy enough — like a long ago, romantic memory — to be enjoyed during the day…”

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From Bvlgari, the Bvlgari Charms collection, featuring 25 ml bottles of Rose Essentielle (pink), Pour Femme (yellow), Omnia Green Jade (green), BLV Eau de Parfum II (blue), Omnia Améthyste (purple), Omnia Crystalline (white), Jasmin Noir (black) and Mon Jasmin Noir (white with black ribbon). $45 each...