Praise the Lord and pass the Cinnabar
I wore Cinnabar and Youth Dew during the 70s, so I'm sympathetic to those who say that the current formulas are a shadow of their voluptuous selves. However, the EU ban on certain ingredients is here to stay and some notes are gone forever. The perfume world is now awash in air, powder, sugar, and white flowers, leaving those of us who crave resins, woods, and spices with little to choose from.
Forget about her background and approach Cinnabar as a stranger. It's one of the few current scents I've found that cannot be characterized by any one note and, more importantly, it's decidedly NOT a garden floral. It is deeper and more redolent than the perky "fresh" fragrances, and is self-confident in its own particular beauty.
The distinctive characteristic that Cinnabar has retained from her earlier life is sillage. Not mushroom cloud sillage to knock people flat, but the ability to create a vaporous aura that leaves wisps of loveliness in its wake. The fact that it's not as strong as its previous form is a reasonable concession to modern tastes. Let's look at it as using her "indoor voice." Those who want more amperage can try spraying it on a scarf, or creating sachets or liner paper for their lingerie drawers. Cinnabar still lasts longer than most of the chic colognes that have flooded the market, and at a retail price below $60 you can afford a booster spritz in the afternoon.