Narciso Rodriguez: Pure Musc For Her
A Soft, Elegant Musk That Feels Like Vintage Barbie
Perfume Pretty Whitney Barbie was my favorite Barbie. I had many, but something about her pale blue dress just seemed so quietly elegant compared to all the usual pinks. She came with that solid-perfume locket, whose smell I couldn’t and didn’t try to figure out, but it was utterly captivating. I remember wanting to dab it onto my wrist all the time, but holding back a lot for fear of it running out.
I don’t remember ever really playing with my Barbies, in the sense of playing make-believe. I just loved dressing them up in different outfits, which I would buy with my allowance on Sundays at the local fleamarket. There was a sweet older lady who handmade clothes for Barbies, and she had the most stylish little things for them.
Whitney, though, I never changed out of her shimmery sky colored dress. Instead, I became enamored of the color blue and started to really like my brunette hair, which was new because I recall sort of wishing I was blonde. Suddenly, I really liked my own hair and from Whitney onward, I began to think dark hair was really beautiful—the darker the better. All the celebrities I admired and wanted to mimic were brunettes and I blame Whitney and her blue dress and gorgeous perfume. These days, my hair gets bleached and colored every shade of the rainbow, but I still have a special affinity for naturally dark locks. For me, dark hair and pastel blue hold a certain mystique against Barbie’s bubbly pink and blonde.
When I started getting interested in perfume collecting, I made up my mind to put more effort into finding something that genuinely smelled like Whitney’s locket. I kept a nose out for it every time I browsed a fragrance department. There have been a few scents that make me think I found something reminiscent of it, but often it might just remind me of the general mood or perhaps a single note. The moment I smelled Pure Musc, though, something clicked. A long-buried memory surfaced. It wasn’t just reminiscent—it was the scent I’d been searching for. Today, even after years of wearing it, it still freaks me out a little bit just how much this perfume transports me the instant it hits my nose.
All this time later, I can finally describe it in words: transparent, tranquil, serene. It’s a light cashmere musk with sheer, powdery jasmine notes, somewhat creamy like the ambroxan of a skin scent, like Glossier You. There’s a subtle soapiness, but one that’s closer to a soft bubble bath than anything sharp. It feels candle-lit, it feels like shimmery white pearls and crystal clear diamonds. And it gives off cues to your mind that it’s time to go out: to get dressed in something elegant and take extra time for your hair and makeup. In other words, it’s kind of a “special occasions” perfume, but at the very same, because of the bubble bath smell and its peaceful mood, it works beautifully as a spa-style relaxation scent. There is more than a touch of makeup-y smell in it, too: the kind of powder you apply with a giant fluffy brush. The florals here are silky and have a very subtly sweet green layer that stirs memories of burying your nose into a bouquet of real flowers.
Pure Musc smells like the dreamy idea you painted in your mind as a child, of what it must be like to be grown up and put-together. Whether you actually are or not, you can still get yourself a bottle of this and drift away to a place where everything feels beautifully calm and luxuriously polished—the same vibe carried by quiet, poised brunette Whitney.
