Miya Shinma - Fragrant Beauty

Personally, I consider fragrances created by Japanese designers to be both easy and difficult to wear. They all seem to be ‘palatable’ due to their being light and unobtrusive, and yet they are all difficult due to their being ‘different’. They are truly inspired; it isn’t easy to classify them as you would normally do with certain European oeuvre (e.g. ‘a sexy fragrance for a free-spirited, upwardly mobile denizen of a thriving metropolis’). And yet it’s possible to find that very soul of a Japanese fragrance, identify it and become one with it if you’re open-minded and willing to embrace it wholeheartedly. 

Japanese fragrances require a certain brain&soul effort, as well as some intuition, on the part of the prospective wearer. They often ask for quite a bit of thinking outside the box – a task unwelcome for European marketing execs, who are eager to assign strictly utilitarian labels to many designer creations.  The Japanese adapted the influential European idea of personalizing commercial fragrances in a way that would befit their own culture.
 

They found a good balance between the traditional view on scent (the country’s cultural traditions and religion presume spiritual chastity as well as physical cleanliness, and thus the people try to avoid any kind of bodily scent at all times) and personal perfumery.

That clever compromise can be clearly seen in the way the Japanese themselves relate to perfume in general – it is vastly different from ours and, in my opinion, the fragrance chosen for personal use is never quite personal.

A typical European seeks a reflection of oneself in his/her fragrance of choice while a Japanese person, reared in his homeland to be extra attentive to the surrounding world, doesn’t need his/her fragrance to be yet another affirmation of his/her own ego.

Rather, a fragrance becomes one more window into the outside world, a way to observe the universe more closely, especially Nature, the bouquet of a fragrance being a composition made for rather abstract admiration as well as for reflection and even meditation.

Miya Shinma creations are just that: inspired, ‘light and unobtrusive’ (’cause we are certainly not alone on this planet), as intimate as a personal fragrance should be, and certainly beautiful. 

Beauty is certainly the most important criterion for Miya, a true aesthete.  Four of the fragrances bear Japanese names: Hana (Flower), Kazu (Wind), Tsuki (the Moon), Sakura (Cherry Blossom) and one has a French name Feuillage vert (Green foliage). 

Tsuki (the Moon) is probably the closest to what we modern Europeans usually expect from a fragrance:  it is sweet, soft yet intense, clearly related to the popular fruity floral trend yet worlds apart from many of the mostly cloying mass produced fruity scent versions.

As is often the case, a well-balanced composition has a certain je ne sais qoui quality that prevents you from completely overpowering the fragrance’s soul and makes you slightly distance yourself from it. In the case of Tsuki it is the unusual combination of airy woody notes and raspberry that attracts the most attention.

The fragrance is full of contradictions: it is light yet oriental, sweet but airy, warm and slightly abstract, just like the light of the Moon that delights us yet lacks any actual warmth.

You feel like you’re literally having a conversation with the Moon and that dialog goes something like this: you sing its praises and the heavenly body readily accepts it, since you simply cannot be on a par with something so great and shiny (the composition’s sweet raspberry note denotes the Satellite’s general benevolence, though).
 


Hana (Flower) is an amazingly interesting fragrance that reminds me of traditional Japanese make-up (stark white face/carmine lips). In any case, I see a bright red flower that seems to float in the air alone, in complete and utter silence. The flower has to be red not because (judging from the ingredients of the fragrance) it is a rose, but since, in my opinion, only the color red makes such a vivid contrast to white. 

The composition is very layered: the white background, although still truly white, seems to move constantly and the Flower, by contrast, seems to be opening very, very slowly. The fragrance emanating from the bloom is a truly beguiling one: it’s buttery and a little dusty, it’s dizzying and almost excruciating, much like poppy. 

 
It is well known that once works of art hit the outside world, they no longer belong to their creators. The few words that make up Miya Shinma fragrances’ descriptions allow our own fantasies to soar and let us come into contact with them without any forced-upon marketing efforts, which to me is a modest, elegant and very Japanese way of doing things.   

In addition to the eau de parfums themselves, Miya Shinma offers other ways to enjoy her creations, many of which are inspired by Japanese customs and traditions: one can find perfumed fans, fragranced teas, kimono sachets, scented pearls for the home and/or wardrobe and scented greeting cards called kokoroba inscribed with classical Japanese waka poetry (31 syllables). Your browser may not support display of this image.

You can find Miya Shinma fragrances in luxury stores in Japan, Europe, Russia and USA, even online. Here is the list of retailers.

Please visit the official site of Miya Shinma

Pics: Mr J.Z, saital, CharlesLam, skyseeker,   treehouse1977