Some musks are take-no-prisoners. Some are fleeting, or the scent of clean skin. Musc in Mona di Orio's deft hand is heartbreakingly lovely: the softest of rose, the most delicate of heliotrope, the most angelic of neroli. Were it a fairy tale it would be a princess, were it a character in a play it would be Juliet. The musk at the base of the scent implies the hidden carnality under all that radiant innocence, making it as captivating as it is unforgettable.