Mimosa, the fluffy, yellow, round-shaped flower that blooms at the start of the year, a way for nature to send us a little sun-shaped goodness when days are short and light is scarce, an offering and promise of longer and warmer days to come.
Of course to some, mimosa may first bring to mind the refreshing champagne and orange drink by the same name, or, in Italy at least, the eponymous cake generally prepared on the 8th March, as the flower has been since the end of WWII, the symbol of Women’s Day.
Speaking for myself, this fluffy yellow flower holds special significance, as nearly two decades ago, we planted in our garden a Mimosa tree in memory of my father. Overlooking sharp cliffs and the Mediterranean sea, and despite an increasingly dry climate with few downpours, it blooms every year around the anniversary of his passing. Each time I see it in full bloom, it makes me smile, as though a little sun and joy from the universe was sent especially for us, which prompted me to write this article.
Visually speaking, a mimosa tree in bloom is truly like a golden rainbow, a pollen-filled fan made of tiny yellow pearls . But before delving into the olfactive profile of the flower and its use in perfumery, it might be worth clarifying which variety is used in the perfume industry.
There are many different mimosa variety and most are not used in fine fragrances, such as Acacia pycnantha in Australia or Mimosa Pudica in India (what a great name by the way). The one most often found in Europe and used in perfumery, is Acacia Dealbata, not to be confused with a similar looking tree from the same family, also used in perfumery, called Acacia Farnesiana (or the cassie flower).
Botanically speaking, the mimosa we see in our gardens in Europe belongs to the acacia family, an indigenous tree from Australia and which was only introduced to Europe and the Mediterranean region in the 19thCentury, becoming since then synonymous with the South of France and the mountaneous area overlooking the Côte d’Azur called the “Massif du Tanneron”. In the context of fine perfumery, it is the mimosa absolute from the mimosa dealbata variety that is used, which is produced by a two-step extraction process. First, a “concrete” is produced from the fresh flowers of the plant by means of a solvent volatile extraction process using hexane. Then the concrete, which is a waxy paste, is “washed” with ethanol to remove all wax molecules, and produces an absolute (i.e. a thick liquid) which is used in perfumery.
So what about the smell of the mimosa absolute? It’s quite different from the fresh flower fragrance you might have smelled when walking next to a tree in full bloom. It is much heavier, cucumber/violet leaf like, green and powdery, animalic and honeyed, and it is classified as a powdery note in perfumery not a floral one. I think it would be fair to say that because of its costs (depending on where it is produced, the cost per kilo can vary between 1,000 EUR when produced in India to 3,600 EUR for French mimosa absolute) and also its olfactive profile, it is not a common fragrance ingredient, nor a particularly popular one.
If I try to think off the top of my head of a major perfume by a commercial brand centered around mimosa, and I exclude vintage perfumes, I struggle to find one. If we go to the niche perfumery sector, the ones that come to mind fall into one of five categories:
First, perfumes that are cologne-like, and have mimosa as sort of “anchor” and are often paired with white florals such as neroli and orange blossom (ex. Belle de Grasse by Fragonard) or take a slight marine bend to mimic some of the olfactive component of the flower (mimosas contains a molecule called “nonandienal” which resembles the smell of cucumber). These are the lighter options for mimosa compositions, a good entry point if you will.
Second are symphonic floral perfumes that have mimosa as only one part of the floral theme, bringing a powdery-animal facet that adds a natural touch to the composition. This would be the more “old fashioned” (what ever the term may mean) or at least traditional use of mimosa.
Thirdly, you have perfumes that attempt to faithfully replicate the smell of mimosa flowers. I find some mesmerising and the best at bringing me back to being in my garden in January.
Then there are the mimosa and spice compositions, which I personally find the most interesting, as mimosa’s powdery nature is balanced with zingy spicy notes.
The final category is the “retro” mimosa, which represent a mix of symphonic floral scents with vintage ingredients or structure (such as aldehydes and animal musks). In my mind, those compositions also tend to lean into the animal facet of mimosa that is often paired with a leather accord.
In any case, regardless of their category, I don’t think mimosa scents have been particularly successful in the 21st century..
Let’s have a look at a few.
Starting by a commercial designer brand, Prada, who, on the back of the enormous success of its Infusion D’Iris perfume, developed a whole range of scents as variation of the original “juice” and included one around mimosa called Infusion de Mimosa. If memory serves, it veered more towards a cologne structure and was not a million miles from Fragonard’s “Belle de Grasse” (incidentally created by the same perfumer, Daniela Andrier), but as of February 2024, I believe it has been discontinued.
Then there are also commercial “niche” brands that have released a few mimosa scents, like Jo Malone’s Mimosa Cardamom, which successfully managed to bring mimosa into the 21st century by adding “zing” and freshness to the note with the combination of cardamom, as well as sweeter and complimentary notes such as tonka and creamy sandalwood. It’s quite lovely and the “fluffiness” of mimosa, which can be a bit cloying and vintage smelling, is beautifully off-set by cardamom, a scent I always associate with Indian Chai tea, producing a sweet, milky (sandalwood) and spicy effect. I would definitely wear that in spring if a bottle fell into my lap..
Mimosa is, of course, not always the star of a perfume, as it can enter a floral bouquet to give depth to the composition such as in the famous 90s perfumes like Kenzo’s “Parfum d’été”, with the famous bottle shaped as a leaf, or Lancôme’s Poême, a symphony of yellow flowers. Again, I don’t know how well these scents have transitioned into the 21st century.
There are also many others that have been discontinued such as gems like L’Artisan Parfumeur’s Mimosa Pour Moi by Anne Flipo which took the leather aspect of mimosa and paired with its ozonic cumber-like green facet, or Indigo Mimosa from Atelier Cologne, which also choose the leather accord route but gave it a more soft suede-like texture with the addition of saffron as a spicy twist.
I think I would be remiss if I didn’t mention in this list , the original mimosa-centric fragrance, i.e. Caron’s Farnesiana from the 194os, now discontinued. I have to confess not remembering smelling that perfume, but from memory, having tried in passing a few of the Caron’s modern interpretation of their historic scents, Caron’s legacy perfumes often feel a bit dated, unlike the Chanel ones for instance (I think this whole concept of “modern and dated” in terms of perfume composition merits its own in-depth analysis but we won’t get into this here). However, if you are studying mimosa in perfumery, it’s worth hunting this one down and there are, no doubt, a few available bottles on e-bay and such sites.
I wanted to highlight two scents that in my view capture the spirit of mimosa, one that leans into a hyper realistic rendition of the flower in bloom, Mimosa Tanneron, by Perris Montecarlo, created by Jean-Claude Ellena, and one that is definitely a more allegorical take on mimosa (it’s actually an ode to the cassie flower, a botanical sister to mimosa, but contains also mimosa dealbata in its composition), une Fleur de Cassie by Edition de Parfum Frederic Malle, created by Dominique Ropion.
I think both manage to be contemporary in very different ways: the Ellena’s creation, by leaning into the “olfactive-snap-shot-of-the-flower” vibe in a way that gives me goosebumps. It’s literally like being next to the tree in bloom, its honeyed powdery scent weaving a sun kissed blanket around you, comforting and delicate but never boring. It’s a scent that has stayed with me and that is defiantly on my “to buy” list when finances will allow it…
While the Ropion composition is just odd and singular, I once heard it described as a “jolie laide” scent, not in the literal translation of “pretty ugly” but in its French meaning of a girl that is pretty in an unconventional way, a sort of Carrie Bradshow in Sex in the City, full of personality and panache. It leans into the vintage atmosphere in a way that makes it modern, like a teenager wearing proudly her great-grand mother’s vintage coat, chic precisely because of the contrast of young and old, full of the certainty that everything in fashion comes and goes again.
Honestly, I don’t think either of these scents are big commercial hits, which is a real shame. Looking at the EdPFM website, it seems like they are only offering now the 100 ml bottle of Une Fleur de Cassie, so it’s possible that they are looking at discontinuing the scent, or limiting its release to the big format and making it boutique exclusive for instance. And while Mimosa Tanneron is definitely more wearable and less enigmatic, I doubt it is among the commercial hits of the collection.
So there you go: mimosa, a scent for those who value independence of judgement and a life lived on their own terms.
So how would you envisage mimosa in a scent? What would be your dream pairing, if we come to the conclusion that mimosa scents have not yet won public favour? Personally, as I am always looking at materials through the prism of possible creative avenues for new scents, I would champion the creation of a “gourmand” mimosa, but a mature and sofisticated one. So taking the honeyed, fluffy texture of mimosa, pairing it with spices (cardamom has been done, let’s think of something else) and developing something along those lines, with the operative word being “lightness of composition”, so nothing thick or gloopy.
Anyway, watch this space.
I think if you want to dip your toes in the mimosa experience, it might be easier to start with the Jo Malone’s mimosa (Mimosa and Cardamom) or the Fragonard one (Belle de Grasse), which is, as usual for the brand, very reasonably priced.
March the 8th is just around the corner and what better way to celebrate all the women in our life than to give them a bit of mimosa’s sunshine in a bottle..
Happy Mimosa season!
