Mystere by Rochas

A masterpiece. The last time I managed to get hold of it, I bought five bottles, and I have only one left. I wear it at any time and in any weather because it is a true delight. It reflects the care, opulence and quality of perfumes from that era.

I have been looking for something similar for over 25 years and have given up; it is impossible, it does not exist. I will never understand why they stopped making this jewel. It was my signature from age 25 to 30, when I realised it had been discontinued. One bottle lasted me five years; I used it only for special occasions and in the evening. Two sprays behind each ear, a third on the cleavage, and it smelled of Mystère for two days. It tattooed itself onto my skin after a bath. I received all the compliments and questions about what perfume I was wearing; the trail was incredible, both in enclosed and open spaces, and it lingered on everything you touched or kissed. If you danced with someone, you’d better be single because it perfumed you just as well. I put it on and felt like the goddess Aphrodite. In my life, I will never forgive you, Rochas.

Do not try to play with it; you will lose. It has cunning, tenacity and elegance. It chooses its audience meticulously, discards what it does not fancy with coldness, but sweetens those who make it feel good. It has lovers all over the world, well separated to avoid trouble. It has few friends; company for its life is its own presence; it is never known too well to be granted that title, but I do know who I am. Mystère comes from a transitional era between green fragrances and narcotic floral animal scents. There is a little of everything in its essence. It does not like to compare itself with Paloma Picasso (it says that came later) nor with Magie Noire. Of the latter, Mystère thinks its garden of flowers is more interesting, and I do not think it is wrong; its floral side is more sumptuous, while Lancôme emphasises the spiced woods. The carnation and white flowers give it that creamy and seductive touch, and the union of galbanum and hyacinth adds a herbal aura. From its depths emanates a liquorish moss, something animalic with a subtle spice, a well-voluptuous dusty scent. One spray is enough; it lasts incredibly long and its projection is limitless. My review is about the old EDP. One must learn to appreciate its company to capitalise on its potential and not come out losing. Sublime. In those years, Rochas never disappointed.

What sadness that a perfume like this has ceased to exist. Undoubtedly it is one of the best I have encountered. I have a special affection for it because it was my mother’s, along with Paloma Picasso; perhaps that’s why it reminds me of very good times. It has shades from the late seventies and announces the trend of the eighties. It is green, animalic, floral, but of those sweet and slightly putrid flowers; it doesn’t smell bad, quite the opposite. Very original and mysterious, like its name. Perhaps the sandalwood gives it that wonderful depth. It has that orgasmic smell of old books, projects intelligence and depth. It is elegant and formal. Sincerely, for me it is: the perfume. I like it so much that if I found it, I would buy and use it; it smells more masculine than many today, but it is a scent that today would be perfectly unisex. It doesn’t adapt to current demand, perhaps that’s why Rochas took it off the market and it’s a pity. If it’s too marked, it’s from a bygone era, but sometimes things like this, so well crafted, are needed. With Mystère, I think of someone like María Félix, enigmatic beauty and strong personality, plus intelligent. Perhaps it’s the perfect perfume for someone who belongs to a lodge or sect, has a touch of darkness or ritual. A perfume helps you express the personality you wish to project. It’s a true mystery your disappearance; I hope you find your way back, Rochas Mystère.

Mystère is another of those perfumes that today hardly manage to seduce. Apart from rare occasions, society’s tastes mutate with the fashions, just like that photo from the eighties where your friends exclaimed, ‘my goodness, how could we dress like that’. In twenty years, they’ll say the same about photos from 2019. Tastes dictated by fashion get into our veins and almost no one is free. In a society that judges everything aesthetically, perfumes like this would be sidelined. What a greater disappointment, Mystère, nothing more or less. Thank goodness it’s an inanimate object, but animists would suffer seeing how it would hold up in a blind tasting against exclamations of disgust and scowls of repugnance for its animal, herbaceous, and mossy notes. To appreciate it, one must put oneself in its skin of the era. Whether you like it or not afterwards is another matter; no one forces you, but you must judge with the knowledge that everything, even taste, is changeable. It doesn’t deserve the ‘smells old’ tag because in the seventies it was the crème de la crème, the most expensive in the world that you bought after saving for months and used drop by drop. They always wore beige, brown, dirty white attire, sober and intellectual cuts. Mystère smelled of intelligence. Acidic and turpentine-like opening with coriander and moss, a slight twist of dirty algalia with a hint of urine that lasts little, transitioning to young, damp wood, green galbanum and aromatic, until a ghostly nebula where the almost faecal sweetness of the narcissus prevails with a peppery, herbaceous, and woody bitterness in the form of talc. Something you’ve smelled a thousand times, but which doesn’t become banal just because it’s repeated; it was a true gem. If it differs from other herbaceous chypres, it’s not in gravity, but in a tone of formality friendly to few jokes. It’s not as youthful as Miss Dior, nor aldehydic floral as Fidji, nor sparkly as Madame Rochas, nor atavistic as Magie Noire. It could be a more austere version of Caleche. Rochas Mystère was precise, an exact dose of delicacy and bravery; in between lies only restraint. Sometimes restraint is needed. A wonder, indeed. Whoever has seen you and whoever sees you, Rochas!

What a perfume! It brings me memories of the 90s. It is my mother’s, her affection, her hug, her warmth. Elegant, complex, with two drops you already smelled of perfume for a week.

What a shame that one cannot find something so beautiful and unique from the Rochas house anymore. A decade ago I bought a bottle and we did not finish it between my mother and me with great delight. Truly, if I found one around, I would not hesitate twice to get it again and love it as it deserves, a monument of perfume like this.

Exquisite fragrance, what a pity it’s impossible to find anywhere.