If Jadis, the White Witch of the Narnia series, had doled out bewitched carrot cake instead of Turkish Delight to corrupt young innocents, it would have smelled like Iris Silver Mist.
Although for the first half-hour it smells uncannily like barely matured carrots, pulled out of the dirt right after a rain, the highly composted loam they were pulled out of soon dominates, with whiffs of nearby coriander plantings. This isn't a snappy, juicy, vegetal perfume, though. That's the weird thing about it. Its silvery quality--seemingly opalescent--transforms what could have been merely vegetable-garden verisimilitude into something magical. I have a lot of iris perfumes, but the iris here is otherwordly. In fact, the dirt that many reviewers have referred starts to transform into something shimmering and bready and spicy and--oh my! It's a Turkish Delight carrot cake.
As soon as my nose hits carrot cake, the perfume almost disappears, making me snort my wrist frantically trying to find that gorgeous scent again, convinced I cannot live without it. I rest my nose and a few minutes later -- sigh. I can smell it again. As it dries down, I could swear this has a similar quality to vintage L'Heure Bleue's drydown. This stuff is scary good. Once you taste it, you crave it again and again. I understand Edmund a lot better now.
P.S. I think the ephemeral quality is due to being dabbed from a sample I've got. After a few hours my wrists still have a lovely little iris-incense glow, and I think if it were sprayed, the drydown would have more intensity.
Also, this perfume is so fascinating, one entirely subjective review (as all reviews are) is certainly no where near enough! Check out the wonderful reviews at Bois de Jasmin, Perfume-Smellin' Things, and Now Smell This.
Image from The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (2005)