Love the sinner.. My Sin by Lanvin

By Tom A very generous friend sent me a package of treasures that I will be examining over the next few months. The reason for the length of time examining them? They are all beautiful vintage scents that warrant a more introspective view than modern ones. Nothing against modern scents; there is something about vintage that sometimes makes me need to get into the mindset. Angela at Now Smell This called My Sin "demanding" while Gaia, the Non-Blonde was reminded of her Grandmother (a woman I would like to go back in time and meet), It reminded me of an experience I had driving a vintage T-Bird my friend owned. The T-Bird was a car that you capital "D" drove: one minute of being inattentive and you could be across three lanes of traffic. My Sin is something you capital "W" wear: it's serious perfume. It's not winking, it's not "retro" and it's in no way frivolous. It's from the time when you went to a store like Bergdorfs and the dresses were modeled for you on live "mannequins" and tailored to you, three fittings minimum. Meeting the girls for lunch meant hose, gloves and a hat, which pretty much was the way you'd pick up the morning paper, which of course you wouldn't do. If there was such a thing as Bravo at the time you'd rather die than be a "Housewife" on it. How does My Sin smell? Rich. Aldehydes and flowers open it and they're rich and heavy as a sable coat. There's also a shocking bit of civet in there: the eponymous "Sin" made olfactory, which gets more and more sinful until the drydown, which is close to the skin and whispers of past indiscretions. My Sin was discontinued in 1988. A lady named Irma Shortell has the rights to the name and markets a version of that I have not smelled. If you've smelled the new one of better yet both, please chime in. Oh, and it you're wondering whether I'd wear this? Sure. Like I'd wear spaghetti straps and taffeta...