Iris must be the Meryl Streep of fragrance notes. In Frédéric Malle Iris Poudre, she plays a 17th century lady at her dressing table. In Le Labo Iris 39, she’s the earthy bohemian mistress with an intellectual bent. In Serge Lutens Iris Silver Mist, she’s the wild child with aristocratic roots and a pagan godmother.
In Naomi Goodsir Iris Cendré, iris might be a medieval monk who works in the garden during the day and faithfully attends incense-laden vespers, but who enjoys the comfort of his pipe and armchair in the wood-paneled library…
