Chanel Gardenia vintage vs. modern Les Exclusifs Gardenia: fragrance review & history

The original Gardénia, issued by Chanel in 1925 and composed by legendary perfumer Ernest Beaux who created all the early opi/opera of Chanel, was built on a fashion premise: The deco motifs of the 1920s exalted the almost cubist arrangement of flower petals, resulting in designs which were transported into impressive jewellery. Gardénia was not conceived as, nor was it meant to be, a gardenia soliflore, although the heavy-smelling blossom was picked thanks to its optical resemblance to Mademoiselle Chanel's favourite flower: the camelia, which doesn't hold a scent. The name in reality derives from the English word "garden" (it's jardin in French): a popular reference of the times, especially if we recall the Shalimar story and the gardens of Lahore that made the imagination run wild. That was then.

But gardenia fragrances in particular re-entered the consciousness of the public with a vengeance in the next decade, the 1930s, in a different manner. This was a time of financial difficulties and a more conservative cultural milieu, when every company was launching or re-issuing their own gardenia fragrance; advertising them as a return to neo-romanticism, the gardenia boutonnières of Edwardian dandies and the gardens in the South of France which provided welcome escapism. Indeed an American advertisement for Chanel Gardénia mentions how it's meant to evoke romantic gardens at the Riviera and tags it as a youthful fragrance. [Chanel is no stranger to capitalizing on advertising to promote specific perceptions of their products, as it famously did with No.5.]
It was 1936 after all when the hit song "These Foolish Things (Remind Me of You)" by Eric Maschwitz & Jack Starchey included the infamous lyric "gardenia perfume lingering on a pillow"...alongside "an airplane ticket to romantic places". Is it any wonder that in the economically "tough" decade of the 1970s Brian Ferry & Roxy Music chose to bring this song back doing their own cover on it (1973)? Chanel would eventually bring their Gardénia back from the dead too; but almost two decades later. And as recently as the end of the 2000s yet again, this time in their boutique line Les Exclusifs where's it's still available.

Olfactorily, the two versions cannot be any more different, providing a valuable history lesson for any inquisitive perfume lover:

The vintage Chanel Gardénia was composed on a narcissus base with a green accent of styrallyl acetate; a freshly green note, naturally present in budding gardenias and a very popular inclusion in many classic floral chypres: It provides the gardenia greeness in the heart which compliments the mossiness of the background, from Miss Dior to Ma Griffe. The trick of composing a "gardenia chord" instead of using an extract from nature was necessitated by technical complications: No essence could be rendered (till very, very recently in fact and then only in some extremely limited distribution niche fragrances). The gardenia in the hands of Chanel is oscillating between green and creamy, as it's allied to other white florals with a powdery veil.
The top note of the vintage Gardénia however is surprising in that it's built on a violet accent, composed through octin and heptin methyl carbonate. The progression from the sweeter violet to the feminine floral harmony in the heart, featuring natural jasmine, makes for a rounder experience with woodier base notes recalling those in Chanel's own Bois des Îles or even Coty's Imprevu, with a spicy whiff of vetiver lingering.
The vintage came in extrait de parfum (a very round and feminine smell) and later Eau de Toilette in the standard square bottles with the round black screw-on cap. Opening one, made me realise how different the perceptions of a floral were in those eras back contrasted with today: Although I can feel the delicate rendering of petals, there is no immediate "department-store atmosphere" of a hundred florals sprayed simultaneously into the air. Drop by drop, it's silky and polished, like a strand of patina rose pearls in slightly differing diameter.

The original version of Gardenia circulated well into the 1950s, but it disappeared at some point when other Chanel fragrances such as No.19 and Cristalle entered the scene. Sometimes the labels did not have the French accent aigu for the American market.
An effort was made to bring it back alongside the more faithfully rendered classics Cuir de Russie and Bois des Iles in the Chanel "Rue Cambon" exclusive boutique circuit at the cusp of the 1990s: Regrettably, it was the least resistant link in the chain, accounting for a rather destitute white floral. The bottle in extrait was rectangular with a white label like standard Chanel extraits (depicted) and the colour of the juice a light yellow. There was also a limited edition Eau de Toilette in a rectangular bottle edged in gold, with white label and white cap in the 1990s (shown on the right).




The modern version of Gardénia as part of Chanel Les Exclusifs more upscale line, reworked by Jacques Polge, conforms to the latest regulations and changing tastes. Thus it is comparatively much thinner, stretched to its limit, based on a standard white floral chord with fresh & green jasmine/hedione, "clean" orange blossom cologne-ish notes and just a smidgen of tuberose (and absolutely no gardenia whatsoever). A delicate vanilla base is the only other detectable note, very light and soft without much sweetness. The fragrance's popularity and reception is no doubt accounted by its transparent and easy demeanor which lends itself easily to any wearer. There is a young, ice-princess vibe about it, rather classy in its sex-denying way.

It leaves something to be desired in fulfilling a powerful romantic imagery and rather much in providing an avant-garde entry in the field of white florals (which it could have tried if it wanted to); but its wearability provides options for casual & office wearing, which is more than can be said for some of the more sumptuous and demanding vintages. Among Les Exclusifs, in Eau de Toilette concentration with an even paler colour of juice than before, Gardénia is also one of the most fleeting, making for a brief experience that needs to be constantly renewed.

Notes for Chanel Gardénia: jasmine, gardenia, orange blossom, tuberose, clove, sage, pimento, musk, patchouli, sandalwood and vetiver.


Ella Fitzerald sings These Foolish Things


And Brian Ferry reprises it in his own innimitable style in a rare 1974 video.

pic of vintage parfum via musclecars.net. Ebay & stock bottle photos. Pearl necklace & gardenia extrait bottle via the Romantic Query Letter.

Teo Cabanel Alahine: fragrance review

Alahine (2007) by Parfums Téo Cabanel literally smoulders in the guise of an ode to ylang ylang and amber, composed like a palimpsest of orientalia: the lushness of the flowers, cut with a smidgen of citric tang (usually the uber-classic bergamot), then fanned on resinous notes that deepen to a tawny iridescence has brought us spectacular fragrances from Shalimar to Bal à Versailles, all the way through Boucheron Femme. Alahine was apparently inspired by Arabian palaces (located in Spain I'd wager) and its solar energy is weaved in an virtual arabesque of luminous, warm notes.


Technically the concept isn't new: The same treatment of the ylang-ylang salicylate-rich blossom is given in Estee Lauder Private Collection Amber Ylang-Ylang: a medicinal amber that sweetens via the florals and leaves a somewhat powdery finish on drydown. Another tawny amber is played in a same style (but more violet-tinged and darker) in Attrape Coeur by Guerlain, also known as Guet Apens. Interestingly the Lauder came out one year after the Cabanel. Still, neither can claim laurels of originality. The main difference nevertheless between the two is how the Lauder projects almost linear, with a persistent two-tone melody to it (enjoyable for anyone who wants what they want, mind you!), and a boozier-saltier amber progression; while the Cabanel is falling from top to heart to base like on a billowy mattress. Even though they're both lush and sexy feminine, thanks to their floriental ambience, a judicious man could benefit from a spritz of Alahine strategically placed. Come to think of it, Sensuous (again by Lauder) is another one men after an ambery fragrance should try. Compared with Amber Ylang Ylang, the Cabanel is more upscale and smells more expensive. It's what people usually refer to as a "sweater scent", denoting a comforting, nuzzling composition that performs especially well in cooler weather and northern climes which seem like its natural habitat. Yet, I bet the tropicalia of its flowery heart would be equally perfect during cool summer evenings when it would blossom sexily if used with restraint on warmed-up belly skin. The fragrance is beautifully poised between East and West, between the dainty quality of Dresden china and the arabesque exoticism of Mecca artefacts, to warrant a place in many perfume lovers' collection.


Alahine opens on a cascade of sizzling and rather medicinal bergamot-ylang-ylang chord, which isn't miles removed from the mandarin-frangipani start undescored by benzoin-rich and patchouli-spiked amber of Chanel's classic Coco from 1984. Indeed they show a comparable bravado into appearing haughty at first, while being utter purr-kittens later on. Coco is spicier and has a powdered-chocolate note which also appeared more than a decade later in Coromandel. Angela of NST proclaims "the result is a ylang ylang crème brûlée lightened with rose and dusted with powder". The resinous quality of Alahine is persistent though, the amber never becoming completely powdery despite the orris touch, nor totally milky-comforting (which one would think would be the result of the sandalwood plus vanilla). A small musty facet which reveals itself through rose plus patchouli is totally brilliant amidst the oriental formula. This is probably its coup de grace, as it engulfs you into an embrace that can still be a little dangerous and fanged, despite the languid exotica.

Kudos to Thédore Cabanel's heir Caroline Ilacqua (the goddaughter of his own daughter) who has indisputably excelled where other upstarts in niche have blundered, when "re-starting" her firm in 2005 (The press kit by Cabanel mentions their first eaux pour le mouchoir were composed in Algeria in the 1890s and they relocated in Paris in 1903): Classical structure, top notch ingredients (not all-natural, though as claimed online, but still with a quite high ratio without doubt), an approachable but not yawn-inducing formula, seamless but perceptible progression & opening-up like a fine cognac. Their other fragrances, also composed by Jean François Latty (creator of Givenchy III, Yves Saint Laurent pour Homme, Tsar, Eau Dynamissante and Drakkar among others), are also very good: Teo Cabanel's Oha is a rose-moss chypre that has nothing to be jealous of from other classics in the genre, while their Julia is a graceful floral fit for princesses. Latty's motto has been "quality doesn't mix with compromise". It's reassuring to know classical perfumery is still revered enough to prolong itself into the 21st century.


Notes for Teo Cabanel Alahine:
Top notes: bergamot and ylang ylang
Heart notes: Bulgarian rose, Moroccan rose, orange blossom, jasmine, and pepper plant
Base notes: iris concrete, cistus, patchouli, benzoin, vanilla, and musk.

Alahine by Teo Cabanel is available in Eau de Parfum through Luckyscent and other etailers (at advantageous prices), also somewhat discounted on Reirien.com. It's also available in Concrète de Parfum (solid perfume) and Parfum Extrait in 15 ml/0.5oz. More info on the official site of Cabanel.

For our French-speaking readers, an interesting interview with the president, Caroline Ilacqua on Youtube linked here.

All photos copyrighted by Elena Vosnaki. Click to enlarge.

Annic Goutal roses review: Rose Absolue, Rose Splendide, Quel Amour

Annick Goutal is no stranger to roses: From the retro-smelling rosiness of Ce Soir ou Jamais, to the refined Turkish rose on a powdery base of iris & sandalwood of Heure Exquise, all the way through the fabulous skincare which utilizes rose serum for its caring and skin-regenerating properties, high quality rose essence has a pride of place in the Goutal range, reflecting Annick's passion for the fragrant bloom. The three latest launches come as a trio of limited editions nicknamed Rose So Chic that highlight varying facets of "the king of flowers", the rose, resulting in as many permutations created by perfumer Isabelle Doyen, fit for a different woman or a different mood. Two of them (Rose Absolue and Quel Amour) are lighter interpretations of the existing perfumes in the line, while Rose Spendinde is a new release.

From lightest/fruitiest to "heaviest"/truest they are:

Quel Amour: The impertinence of peonies, the burst of wild rose and geranium rosa, combine with a sharp note of red currants, pomegranates and wine peaches, lending a sense of sweet cravings. Quel Amour smells rather innocent, with a mischievous, sweet tooth (a little whiff of lilac) deriving from a fruity heart and a wine-y, slightly sour note in the aftermath coming from the currants. Basically a berry-rose chord with a zingy, citrusy top note, Quel Amour is romantic the way texting sweet nothings is or settling a little lovers' argument through an apology on your Facebook profile: There is just something about it that appeals to the young and is completely uncomprehensible to the older generations. If searching for a fruity floral to offer to a young one you could do much, much worse elsewhere.

Rose Splendide: Fresh, green and musky, this "eau parfumée" is reminiscent of an early morning walk through gardens sparkling under the new day's dew...A composition based on the delicate, fragile Centifolia Rose, enhanced by the fresh scent of magnolias, musk and a touch of pear, for an incredibly mischevious revelation ! Rose Splendide is presented as the scent of a rose that has not been cut yet, and indeed this continuity between stem and thorn and flower is what keeps me interested. The gorgeous face creams and toners in the Goutal Spendide range have been aromatized for years with a comparable scent (Damascena rose and a bit of blackcurrant) and it was entrancing enough to keep me coming back for more, muffling the siren calls of several other high-end skincare lines. The mysterious underlying muskiness alongside the herbal/leafy touch on top (which reads as cut-grass green) is what seals the deal for me, making Rose Splendide my favourite in this trio of rose fragrances.

Rose Absolue: The quintessence of the noblest roses from the East and West : May, Turkish, Bulgarian, Damask, Egyptian and Moroccan roses. A creative folly for eternal feminity now reinterpreted in an Eau Parfumée. Like an armful of fresh roses, intense in their message, over the top romantic like bowing down on bended knee with the Seine at the background to propose, Rose Absolue is a must-try for anyone in love with roses. The light musk trail at the base notes lends it a whiff of something starting to hint at more intimacy; the love story is beginning to veer off the platonic and into the carnal but it's not quite there yet. The only drawback is the relatively lower staying power.

All three Goutal fragrances in the Rose So Chic collection are circulating as 100ml Eau parfumée spray, under a limited edition presentation of a pink/reddish organza ribbon around the neck under the "turban" cap. They retail for 85$. Annick Goutal will donate 5€ from each purchase of any of three fragrances to AVEC (Association pour La Vie Espoir contre le Cancer) between September 1 and October 31st, 2010, as a commemoration of Annick's battle with cancer.

Paco Rabanne Calandre: Fragrance Review

"Imagine its spring. A rich young man arrives in his E-type Jaguar to pick up his girlfriend. Imagine the scent of fast air, speed and leather seats. He takes the girl for a ride along the seaside. He stops in a forest. There he makes love to her on the bonnet of the car."
~Marcel Carles recalling Paco Rabanne's brief for what became Calandre.

I was browsing one of the blogs I enjoy, namely Perfume Posse, the other day, when I came up upon a post by Patty in which amidst other musings (such as her antipathy for my beloved Fille en Aiguilles, how can this be I ask you?), she was crestfallen about the discontinuation of Calandre, a floral aldehydic that comes from 1969 (composed by perfumer Michel Hy) and which is just about one of the friendliest rose aldehydics in existence.

This Rabanne is also respendid with interesting trivia: It has rose oxides which give a slight "metallic" tinge to the flower, supposedly to translate the notion of "calandre" into scent, it being the car's radiator grille in French. Actually the first perfume "draft" was too reminiscent of a hot car (Spanish-born Paco Rabanne's brief) which made it rather unwearable, so back to the sketch board it went! The bottle, designed by Pierre Dinand, was sparse, with metal overlays in brushed silver finish which gave a high-tech look about 20 years before this would become the norm.

Calandre has been special to me personally for two reasons: First, it was given to me as a gift as a young teenager (we're talking about 13 here) by my sophisticated grandmother. I cherished my little bottle and had it alongside my other precious gems for years ~Anais Anais, Chanel No.5 (you read this correctly), Tosca and 4711 by Muelhens and Opium (you read this correctly too, I've said my piece before) alongside several minis I snatched up every chance I got.
Secondly, in the face of the deterioration of Rive Gauche by the oversexed, modernisating Tom Ford stint as creativer director of Yves Saint Laurent Parfums, Calandre remained more faithful to the former's idea of what I call its spirit of frosty allure, "what KGB agents would have worn to seduce James Bond"; almost the way "black pudding" is the faithful reminder of our primeval, barbaric and needy of ready nutrients nature.
The comparison between Rive Gauche and Calandre of course is the very antithesis of cognitive dissonance: Perfume lore wants Jacques Polge to have been instructed by the people at Yves Saint Laurent to produce something similar to the ~at the time~ avant-garde Calandre which had been issued the previous year. The result came in the market in 1971 in a striking blue and silver metal aluminum can and with the passage of years managed to eclipse the pulchritude of the original: Yves Saint Laurent with his flamboyant colours, rustic decadence and matchless tailoring became all the rage in the 1970s, while the futuristic Rabanne sewing with pliers and a blowtorch on his space-age plastic chain-mail Barbarellas had become a little less relevant to the zeitgeist; only Mylene Farmer continues to evoke the futuristic extravagances today. Overall Calandre is more American than Rive Gauche and it pre-emptied the trend of American-style fragrances that followed (White Linen etc)

Calandre has a wonderful olfactory profile: citrusy, slightly sour top note which segues into both oily green hyacinth and a fresh (laundered, thanks to lily-of-the-valley) white rose, elements which peter out slowly into an undefinable vaguely herbal base with honey and light musk touches that is its own thing more than anything that morphs into the wearer. Compared to Rive Gauche, Calandre is less frosty aldehydic, more lemony and with a softer overall character but equally abstract like you can't really point your finger on what you're smelling: Is it iced linens off the fridge on a hot day in a tamer version of The Seven Year Itch heat-remedy? A florist's fridge when the flowers have long departed? Or the cool breeze through a vetiver-sewn canopy in a non-tropical climate? That's Calandre's charm!
Cue into the last few days: The news of a possible discontinuation of Calandre bombed. Smiles were wiped off faces. The official response from Paco Rabanne on the question on discontinuation luckily came through a POL member, Cubby:

"Thank you for your message and for your interest in Paco Rabanne. Further to your enquiry, the Calandre perfume is still available in our current collection. Could you please notify us of your residential area so that we could indicate you the details of your nearest stockist. We remain
at your disposal for any further information. Best regards,
Paco Rabanne Online"

So now you can rest easy! It's even available as an Eau de Toilette on Amazon still.

Notes for Paco Rabanne Calandre:
Top: Aldehydes, green notes, bergamot, lemon
Heart: Rose, lily of the valley, geranium, jasmine, ylang-ylang, orris root
Base: Vetiver, oakmoss, cedar, sandalwood, amber, musk

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Aldehydes, what are they and how do they smell?

Perfume ads via parfum De Pub. Pic of chainmail dress by Paco Rabanne via In Memory of All Things

Vero Profumo Onda, Kiki, Rubj in Eau de Parfum: fragrance reviews

The ultra-niche line Vero Profumo, masterminded by Swiss perfumer Vero Kern, had been introduced through these pages and Andy Tauer's blog 3 years ago (how time flies!). Slowly but surely a cult was born, especially around the apocryphal Onda; the very definition of the term in fact, as accolytes were whispering among themselves in fervour about the high quality of the line, publishing their thoughts online with frenzied passion and exorcising the gods of perfumery to always have these beautiful extraits in production. This fanatical devotion was somewhat hindered by only one hindrance: the (inevitable) high price of beauty! Them being extraits, Vero Profumo fragrances had a steep entrance point for the initiated: 105 euros for 7.5ml and 165 euros for 15ml.
But the God of Small Things intervened and Vero is now introducing Eau de Parfum interpretations of her fabulous extraits with the same attention to detail and luxury as she had done with the parfums in (Onda, Kiki and Rubj) which I got off the lab for a preview. But wait, you ask, how do the new versions smell?

Vero in our correspondence had prepared me for the difference in ambience which the new Eaux de Parfum present:

"Don’t expect just a watered down Onda, Rubj or Kiki. Unfortunately it doesn’t work that way. The Eaux need a different structure by pointing out more the topnotes and less on the base always by still respecting the original style of the Extraits. I've simplified the whole composition. I also replaced the heavy animal notes by the unique scent of passionfruit, which I love very much and which gives the creations a certain erotic readiness. The Passion fruit is also the common thread that connect the three scents".

If the mention of passion fruit makes you go all "huh" ~conditioned through years of exposure to juvenile fruity florals inundating the market and heaps of Bath & Body Works store-concepts croping up like mushrooms all over the Western world, threatening domination by the sheer power of fruity tentacles~ rest easy. I leave you with the best recommendation I could possibly give through the wise words of dr. Luca Turin:

"A thorough analysis of the molecules emitted by passionfruit done by the great firm of Haarmann and Reimer in 1998 revealed 180 different molecules never before seen, 47 of which are sulfur compounds, with smells ranging from rotten cabbage to blocked drains. The proximity of beauty to ugliness is never clearer than in tropical fruit. Perhaps because they have to compete with powerful smells of decay for the attention of birds, tropical fruit have decided to play dirty. Adding tiny amounts of rot on an otherwise conventional fruity smell is as invigorating as finding out that a theoretical physicist colleague was once a stripper".

A general truth we perfume lovers have seemed to grasp through our own experience. Yet you see, even though passion fruit was thus named because of its (far fetched) resemblance to the wounds of the Holy Passion of Jesus in the eyes of hierapostoles, its passions run in another direction...a direction very simpatico to perfumery.

I had written about Djedi-inspired Onda that it "manages to convert vetiver into a leathery animal that will make you forget all the citrusy, green interpretations you have already experienced by other perfumers (Guerlain Vetiver, Carven Vetiver) and stop you in your tracks as you come back to the original meaning of it: deep earthy roots, animalic undertones, rich pungency". Now anyone who has had the rare luck to sniff Djedi knows just what a twisted musty-leathery (castoreum) dried up old ruffian it is and how difficult it would be to transport this into modern life. Vero had managed to transform its soul via a beeswax-honey feral base and spices (ginger, coriander, basil, maybe mace) and present us with something uniquely its own: Onda, an old soul in modern clothing, all ashes, salt and honeyed thighs. But whereas the extrait had some rough edges which added to its complexity and status of an object for the initiated (who cussed in delight all the same), the Eau de Parfum mollifies them and warms it up in an almost magical way: no mustiness or animalistic growls ensue, nor are the spices as pronounced, rather the intimacy and muskiness are sustained in a halo of lucid warmth. Some fans of the extrait will find the EDP rather different and it is, but I hope it thus gets another audience who had stumbled finding it "difficult".

Kiki named after Kiki de Montparnasse, the night-butterfly who inspired artists, remains the cuddliest and yummiest lavender in existence. "Although lavender is herbaceous and somewhat medicinal by nature (albeit the user of most commercial mass-market products would be hard pressed to realise that, as it is usually swamped by synthetic vanillin to make it cuddly), in Kiki it is clear and distinct for a long while but never becomes bitter nor unpleasant. The undercurrent of a bodily warmth hides in there and some muskiness that retains the sweet smell of sheets in which you have rolled over with your lover and later eaten on while on a Paris tantalizing naughty trip. It is redolent of sexy but classy lacy underwear in ivory that has been kept in those powdered-scented big cardboard boxes with tissue paper, to be used with the sole intent of getting out of it real soon. And if there is some caramel suryp in the room, it will see good use as well". My senses tell me the Eau de Parfum version of Kiki is the least different from the extrait original and those who already love one should opt for the other with eyes closed. Or maybe if you have one you don't need the other and so here's a little budget for trying out another product of the sleight of hand of ms.Kern's? I don't know, you will be deciding on that. If you want my opinion, leap for a bottle of Rubj Eau de Parfum no matter what you do. Your life (almost) depends on it!

I had rhapsodised on Rubj in the following fashion, even if at the time the indelible and jolting impression of Onda had somewhat sidetracked me from savouring it as fully as I should have had: "The tart and yet sweet peel of mandarin marries the floral essences of carnal jasmine and dusky precious tuberose into a bond that intextricably makes the orange blossom melt with pleasure: Bright halos over the head of a beautiful nymph, warm and cool breeze of a garden at dusk, like Shiekh Nefzaoui's "Perfumed Garden", the forbidden classic of arabic sexuality". In the eau de parfum version of Rubj the woody and musky ambience recedes somewhat while the floral essences take on an intensely fruity, very plummy, really mouthwatering quality that makes it devastantingly irresistible. Of all the scents in the line Rubj impressed me as being the brightest, the shiniest, the most shockingly beautiful in the Eau de Parfum version! Seriously, if you feel like there is a hole in your collection where the heart of a masterpiece fruity floral should beat, don't even think about it twice: Get thee to Vero Profumo in a month or two and grab a bottle of Rubj and thank me later. It's THAT good!

All the fragrances are exquisitely wearable without betraying their identity and as Vero says: "I must say it was very difficult to compose these fragrances but finally I like them. They’re definitely lighter and easier to wear hopefully for a wider public".
The new Vero Profumo Eaux de Parfum at 12% concentration will come as a natural spray and their longevity is very adequate (more than 6 hours on my skin). The launch is estimated for spring 2010 at a much more advantageous price point (thanks to the lesser concentration and the bottling at a small hand-picked artisan factory) and they will be definitely carried at Luckyscent. And rest easy: The Extraits will still be made and be reserved for initiated “Perfume Lovers” on her site.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Vero Kern interview, Onda review, Kiki review, Rubj review, Guerlain's Djedi review

In the interests of full disclosure I was sent 3 sample vials of the scents off the lab by Vero herself.
Pic of Dominique Sanda and Stephania Sandrelli via informadanza.com. Photo of Girls on a Vespa via doarcodavelha.blogspot.com

Frequent Questions: The Many Versions of Shiseido Zen

When the same name for a fragrance is used through the decades to denote varying scents, things get entangled. Zen by Shiseido is one such characteristic example. To disentangle them here at Perfume Shrine we try to shed some light on what differentiates each version.

There are actually three Zen fragrances, all by Shiseido, in different packaging and smelling rather differently from each other.
The original Zen Eau de Cologne (and parfum) from 1964 comes in a black bottle with hand-sketched gold flowers on it. It's a green spirit with fangs which bite hard! Unsettling and completely unbefitting the serene name, it makes for a thunder entrance: Bitter and sharp, white floral in the heart in the manner of gardenia chypres of old but quite angular still, and with an incense twist somewhere (smoky), while the base is all mosses and bitter leather. Excellent on a guy! In fact probably better than on a woman maybe. The re-issue available at Nordstrom's right now is supposedly very close to the original daring formula and is termed Zen Classic to differentiate it from the following versions. I have also come across an Eau de Parfum mist version of it online.

The chronologically intermediary Zen was encased in a pretty white bottle with rounded, friendly contours in a white box with beautifully tactile, subtly shiny surface. The fragrance was presented in Eau de Parfum Aromatique (that's what it says on the box). Less bitter, more fruity floral with a lovely rose note which Shiseido tells us was allegedly grown in space (the product of careful tending by astronauts aboard the space shuttle), it has no leather-mossy feel but ample musks & woods in the base. It's a soft and lovely rendition which approximates its name much more convincingly than the original version, was completely in tune with the 90s in both concept and visual representation (half pebble, half high-tech gadget) and the general Shiseido aesthetic and has been loved by many. It's now discontinued but still available online.

The new version of Zen was incarnated in a cube bottle, architectural, designesque and downright fancy in 2007. The smell however is nothing like either of the older ones. Modern Zen has a fruity-fresh opening, instead of the characteristic bitter green of the original, seguing to spicy and ambery (ambroxan)-patchouli notes. Although the base is generic and rather non distinctive, the spicy accent is quite pleasant, redeeming it. Still, in a sea of ambery patchouli fragrances with fruity notes it's not marking its territory in any significant radius.

There's also a flanker to that one -i.e. a 4th Zen, affectionately called Zen White- in a different coloured cube, supposedly for summer and more metallic-citrusy in tone. Finally there is Zen for Men in a greyish-blue bottle that follows the cube-shape of the modern Zen for women. Its scent is centered on spicy woods and musk.
All the modern Zen versions are available at department stores wherever Shiseido is carried.

Twin Peaks: Zino by Davidoff, Chanel Coromandel, Lutens Borneo 1834

Comparing an uncompromisingly masculine fragrance such as Zino by Davidoff with a unisex offering from Chanel, daintely named (Coromandel) after Chinese laquered panels which might sooner decorate the apartment of a woman or a gay male than the chick-trap of an abode of a bachelor might seem like a exercise in futulity. Heck, there's even a makeup line at Chanel's bearing the very same name! Yet the two fragrances, winking both at yet another patchouli-ladden beauty, Borneo 1834 by Lutens, bear the proud insignia of hard partying and bohemian airs which a rich, decadent patchouli heart knows how to provide so well.

And for those on a budget or searching for an easier alternative to savour the allure of Coromandel, Zino is a choice that can be found easily on discounters and online stores, being utterly underrated for absolutely no sane reason at all. I hope after this review a couple of people will summon the courage to search for it, as it's totally worth it. But perhaps the greatest recommedation would be that it has been gracing the oh-so-fine body of Captain Jack Sparrow, né Johnny Depp for quite some years now (Fittingly as it was first issued in 1986). Who can resist his charms, his chiseled face and bohemian attitude? Personally, I could see it on someone like Vincent d'Onofrio as well. If you're fond of aquatics and/or a fan of a girly Robert-Patterson-like allure (of Twilight fame), you can stop reading right now, it will only get painful.

I had written on my Chanel Coromandel perfume review, when I compared the scent to a cinnabar-hued brocade jacket, upper button undone with black camelia Chanel earrings: "The initial impression is that of a citrusy, orange-like pipe tobacco mix rolled in powder, much like the one encountered upon meeting that vixen little scent called Fifi by lingerie designer Fifi Chachnil or a slightly less milky Fumerie Turque. [..]Perhaps the orange impression derives from the inclusion of frankincense, a resin that sometimes gives off a sweet citric tang while burning. A sweet lush note throughout is echoing subtly like vanilla pods immersed in fruity liquor and it opens up and expands on the wings of aged patchouli, mellow, soft, sweet and inviting [...]with a touch of Borneo by Serge Lutens and Prada thrown in for good measure. [...] The pervading dryness along with just a touch of frankincense for a sense of mystery, not showcasing amber in any great degree all the while, provides a great balance to the sweeter vanilla elements and makes the whole not puff up in blue clouds of smoke, but stay the night on warm skin and well used sheets".

Zino starts on a classic masculine accord of lavender, clary sage and bergamot, bracing, nose-tingling like the top notes of Jicky, almost recalling a fougère, but immediately we're drawn into the maze of oriental woods, where the dark green of patchouli hypnotizes the senses with its sweet, beckoning and a little overwhelming scent and a trompe l'oeil hinting at tobacco (A Davidoff fragrance without some allusion to it? Unthinkable). Zino's big rosy heart worn on its sleeve is the perfect accompaniment to the green leaves with moth-repelling properties, and serves to smoothen the former, alongside the other subtle floral elements. Every ingredient bursts into life on the skin and despite the potent opening the scent manages to appear as rather subdued in later stages. Once upon a time touted as the "fragrance of desire", I admit that for this woman on this day, it still seems good enough to eat and amazingly sexy while we're at it too.

Sheldrake’s handwriting is all over 2007's Coromandel, which would make the comparison with his previous Borneo 1834 for Serge Lutens (2005) a natural fit. The two fragrances share a pronounced similarity at the drydown, a fuzzy, synthesized woody-amber drydown like ambroxan (much more pronounced though in -say- Lolita Lempicka au Masculin). Zino also shares in the traditional ambery fade-out after its scultural masculine top, its darkness an ink-like blob on thick matte paper, but lacks the distinct coffee note that runs through the heart of Borneo, instead opting for extending the note of patchouli to its chocolate-like extremes. Borneo on the other hand is an intensely camphoraceous patchouli laced with dark-roasted coffee and cocoa notes and much dryer, while Coromandel, perhaps due to its eau de toilette concentration and axiom of "application with abandon" alluded to by the big, honking bottle, seems airier and less saturated than both. Airier for an oriental woody, mind you! Its kinship with the original Prada should give you an idea of the ballpark we're talking about. The sillage of every scent is delicious; a mysterious wake that will have people swerve to catch a whiff and ask you what it is.
Ultimately, between the three, Coromandel is the daytime, easier and more powdery version, Borneo more suitable for evenings and trend-setters, while Zino is the one reserved for sexy men and for women not afraid of five-o-clock shadows on them. If you're among the latter, do try Zino for yourself too, you'll see it acts like a fedora over long hair.

Notes for Zino by Davidoff:
Top: lavender, palisander, clary sage, bergamot
Heart: geranium, rose, lily-of-the-valley, jasmine
Base: patchouli, cedar wood, sandalwood, vanilla
Notes for Coromandel by Chanel
Benzoin, patchouli, woodsy notes

Notes for Borneo 1834 by Lutens
Patchouli, Camphor, Cardamom, Cistus, Galbanum, Cacao

pic of actor Vincent d'Onofrio via fanpop.com, Sarah Ranes portrait via indiepublic.com

Guerlain Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus: fragrance review

Take a room that appears goldenish baroque in its ambience, but actually comprised of little, aptly chosen, dramatic furniture and saturate it in the cool and bright light of the North on a salubrious day and you have the latest Guerlain, Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus. Tentatively smelling it, convinced I'd absolutely hate it, it gave me the testing whiplash of my life: It isn't half bad! Aesthetically it is as successful in its modernisation as Eau Première is to the iconic Chanel No.5 (I wish I could say that for the latest Cristalle Eau Verte).

The introduction of a Mitsouko flanker, and what's more a watery Mitsouko in a mouthwash-tinted bottle, initially sounded as mind-numbingly sacrilegious as Regan impaling herself with a crucifix in one of the most brilliant scenes of William Friedkin's 1973 thriller "The Exorcist" would look to the Pope. However Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus reminds me of another William Friedkin heroine, this one more mature, sexier and tamer than the possessed child Regan; namely, Trina Gavin in 1995 "Jade". Not exactly Ai-no Corrida material, the passions are contained, but still an involving character.

The original Mitsouko by Jacques Guerlain launched in 1919 at a time when women rediscovered luxury and all things Eastern and it subtly unveils its peachy-fuzz chypre heart amidst a spicy, smoky mossiness that creates the feeling of decadent and, at the same time, wistful opulence. Jean Paul Guerlain rightfully decided not to mess up with perfection and merely injected an airier lotus blossom note which uplifts and mollifies the composition into a brighter, lighter plane.

“Mitsouko is really a masterpiece,” says Jean-Paul.[1] “I did not want to betray my grandfather’s, so I added a freshness to the scent with spices and white musk to give a modernity to it without changing the original scent.”

Jean Paul Guerlain is according to Thierry Wasser (new resident nose at Guerlain) "the Indiana Jones of fragrance" [2], such is his galivanting the world in search of new and exciting raw materials; and lotus blossom is a traditional essence of the East which seemed very fitting to what is essentially an Eastern inspired composition in the first place.
After the initial acqueous and rather green jasmine-like impression the unmistakeable palpability of Mitsouko comes through while the progression surprisingly takes Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus into more hesperidic (the lotus), cooly powdery tonalities (some cardamom?) with a slight sprinkling of clean sweeteness instead of the butyric lactonic richness and almost burnt peachiness of the original. And since the classic Mitsouko can be worn by men too, I see no real problem in the newest version being co-operative on a man's skin if they generally like softer fragrances. Be prepared for a short-lived experience however: The lasting power is nowhere near the tenacity of the classic in either of its concentrations.

If you love the original Mitsouko enough, the new Fleur de Lotus variant seems like a redundancy. If you do not, it is doubtful whether you will find something seismically different that would make you do a 180 degree turn. As March put it: "You can hear the right chords being played, but they’re in the background. Somewhere down the hall, but still there. I wouldn’t say, precisely, that it honors the original, but it doesn’t diminish it, either.". Nevertheless, people who might have objected to either the latest botched reformulated Mitsouko with its bread-like top note and its long finish of treemoss instead of oakmoss, or people who longed for a twist in the classic recipe like one less olive, one dash of vermouth less in their martini glass, might find in Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus a fragrance to successfully claim as their own. For my vintage collecting self it simply isn't a necessity, which affirms the thought that this is an attempt to grab new audiences, not established ones.

Mitsouko Fleur de Lotus is available in 60ml/2oz bottles of Eau de Toilette, whose design reprises the classic inverted heart bottle with a degradée of bright blue-ish shades and a white label. It retails for $100 at Guerlain boutiques exclusively and Saks Fifth Avenue NYC, Bergdorf Goodman NYC, Waldorf Astoria, Neiman Marcus at San Francisco, The Bellagio at Las Vegas, the Epcot Center at Orlando and The Breakers at Palm Beach.

One sample will be given to a lucky reader! State your interest at the comments, draw open till Friday midnight.


Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Guerlain series, flankers, Chypre series.

[1]Quote via Vanity Fair [2]Interview of Wasser and JPGuerlain at Wallpaper.
Pic of Linda Fiorention from the 1995 William Friedkin film "Jade" via L'internaute

Distant Cousins: Lily of the Valley & Lily ~part 2: Lily

Pensive garden, affectionate, fresh, and faithful,
where lilies, moon and swallow kiss.
Army on the march, child who dreams, woman in tears!

Adjectives like "astonishing" and "ravishing" may sound like hyperbole, yet it is enough for someone to have leaned once over an open, waxy petaled blossom of pure, gleamingly white and delicately flocked lilies to have stood transfixed.

Words fail one upon the sight, while the nose is mesmerised by its oleaginous, yet at the same time spicy interlay of softness, sharpness and intense femininity. Even John Ruskin in his lectures “Sesame and Lilies” designates the second one, Lilies, to the treatment of women in literature and lore. An allusion which brings an added dubious sub-layer in the common reference of lily white skin in rapper songs ~such as the hilarious “Pretty Fly (for a white guy)" ~ by the Offspring) and in street parlance!

The beauty of lily is at once as pure and as sensuous as the face of Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca"; its strong emition of scent in late summer makes an evening spent in a garden where it blooms an exercise in aching wonder faced with nature’s magic. And most astonishing of them all, among this plush, there raises its little head a small facet of horse stable manure (Luca Turin in a playful reminiscence while reviewing a lily fragrance refers to it as salami), enough to place lily in the category of the majestically strange, much like tuberose or jasmine. There's something awe-inspiring yet vulnerably tragic in the lily, like the Dresden-doll beauty of Vivien Leigh.

Lilies belong to the Liliaceae family, from which they take their name. The genus Lilium are herbaceous flowering plants growing from bulbs, comprising about 110 species with infinite visual variety. Lily of the Valley/Muguet (Convallaria majalis) on the other hand belongs to the Ruscaceae family (genus Convallaria), making them botanically unrelated to the former blossoms. Within the lily group there are several sub-varieties and contrary to the vernacular sayings equating lily with white, not all species are so. The following varieties are amongst the most prominent and beautiful: Columbia lily ,Tiger Lily , Easter/Madonna Lily ,the Goldband lily of Japan , the Amazon lily as well as the Stargazers, a popular and colourful subdivision of the Oriental lilies and the Casa Blanca Lilies (another Oriental hybrid).
On the other hand, the well-known Calla Lily (erroneously often misspelled as Cala) is not strictly a lily, since it belongs in the family Araceae. Generally Calla Lilies do not possess the characteristic heady odour of lilies nor do they have a potent odour profile in themselves, although the species Zantedeschia odorata possesses the strong scent of freesias. Vera Wang original perfume for women claims notes of Calla lily in its bridal bouquet. In perfumery, however, the lily par excellence is usually one in the Lilium family. And in this guide we will try to list fragrances which include the different varieties of lily.

Lost in history, the beautiful flower has even some interpreters of the Bible identify the Hebrew word Shoshannah as 'lily' in Song of Songs ("As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters." Song of Songs 2:2 (KJV), instead of the customary translation as rose.
The heady odour of the flower is usually rendered through headspace technology or dynamic purge-and-trap headspace analysis, which reveals the main enantimomer as R-(-)-linalool, while the alluring strangeness of lily is closely tied to high levels of p-cresol accounting for its animalic tonality. [1]
The suave and sugary scent of Madona/Easter lilies which is all the more intense as the hours draw on towards the night is evident in the classic Anais Anais by Cacharel, in the more billowed aldehydic Dolce & Gabbana pour femme (the one which is crowned with a red cap), and the suave, lightly green and tender Un Lys by Serge Lutens underscored by snuggly vanilla, painting the picture of a Werner Herzog delicate heroine. The floral sweet touch also offers an unexpected marriage of opposites in Passage d’Enfer by L’artisan Parfumeur. The scent of incense and lily mesh through the ecclesiastical tradition, overwhelming my memory with liles offered during Easter whilst frankincense is being slowly burned on charcoals around.

Tiger lilies with their wild patterns are evoked in the equally jungle-inspired print (leopard) on the cylindrical bottles of the sadly discontinued feminine By by Dolce & Gabbana. The ginger overlay of some of the varieties of the lilies makes a perfect accompaniment to the coffee and sandalwood notes of the D&G fragrance. Inpendent perfumer Yosh has no less than three scents featuring tiger lily: Wanderlust (a fresh bouquet with a whiff of incense and patchouli), Tigresse (a fruity floral encompassing figs and pomegranates) and Ginger Ciao (the creaminess of coconut compliments the sweeter aspects of lilies and ylang ylang)! Reportedly Baby Phat Fabulosity and Lucky Number 6 also feature tiger lily as a note, although I have not personally tried either. The fresh, sea-spray-like and photorealistic undertake by Edouard Fléchier for Frédéric Malle’s Lys Méditerrannée (Mediterrannean lily) is one of the most elegant lilies on the market today, injecting a subtle gingery facet on a precious musky backdrop.

White and red Casa blanca lilies are evoked in the soft, non aggressive and diaphanous treatment of Des Lys, a soliflore in the Annick Goutal line. For her denser, hypnotic Grand Amour, the majestic lily is paired to sweet honeysuckle, the oily emerald hue of hyacinth and a host of eastern promises (myrrh, vanilla, musk). The woody-ambery aroma chemical Karanal presents some lily facets, reminiscent of the treatment of lily in such scents as the glorious Donna Karan Gold which explores the waxy facets of Casablanca lilies ~especially in the rich and excellent Eau de Parfum concentration. While the alpha-, beta- and gamma- terpineol are used to render clearer lily notes.
In Pleasures Intense by Estee Lauder, the abundance of green and sweeter lilies give off a contrasting image of sharpness and sweetness, highlighted by fresher peony on one end and benzoin on the other. One of the best oriental lily renditions in a mainstream fragrance was unfortunately an all too short-lived and now regretably elusive version of Pleasures, called Garden of Pleasures Moon Lily. A limited edition from 1999 in a trio collection which highlighted facets of the original best-selling Pleasures (the other two included Peony and Lilac), it presented a soft, orientalised and subtly sweet ambience of gigantic white liliums with intense red stamens protruding provocatively.

Oriental lilies and Stargazers seductively emit their fragrant indolic headiness, close to jasmine, in other best-selling fragrances such as the kitchy White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor and the suave Lily & Spice by Penhaligon’s.
Last but not least, in order to train your nose into the subtleties of the diferent varieties, Ava Luxe has composed a trio of lily scents with different effects: the simple and greenish Lily, the traditional Madona Lily and the more orientalised Stargazer.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine:Distant Cousins part1 Lily of the Valley

[1]Rey Marsili, 2001
Painting of lilies by Amy Steward via lostcoastdailypainters blog. Pic of Vivien Leigh via Seraphicpress.com, stargazer illustration via create4u.blogspot.com

Distant cousins: Lily of the Valley & Lily~part 1: Lily of the Valley

Although in nomenclature lily of the valley is easily confused with lily and its own varietal richness, the two are completely different flowers and in this scent guide I will try to analyse their olfactory differences, their participation in the bouquet of classic and modern fragrances, the materials used to render them in perfumery as well as a list of perfumes that highlight their graceful beauty. The first part deals with Lily of the Valley or Muguet, while the second part will deal with Lily.

The raindrenched earth after spring showers and the wet foliage remind me of the lyrics by songwriter George Brassens:

"Le premier mai c'est pas gai" / "The first of May isn’t cheerful"
"Je trime", a dit le muguet / "I slave away", the lily of the valley said
"Dix fois plus que d'habitude" /"Ten times more than usual"
"Regrettable servitude" / "A regrettable encumbrance"
Muguet, sois pas chicaneur / Lily of the valley, don't be a quibbler
Car tu donnes du bonheur / Because you make people happy
Brin d' muguet, tu es quelqu'un... / Nosegay of lily of the valley, you’re somebody...

~Georges Brassens, Discours Des Fleurs

May 1st has been inexctricably tied to Francophiles’ minds with one of the loveliest spring blossoms and its neo-Victorian image: lily of the valley (Lys des vallées) or, as the French commonly call it, muguet (pronounced mygɛ). And it’s for a reason: it’s the traditional flower offered on this day and one can routinely see street vendors selling nosegays on the French streets. The tradition goes back to Charles IX who on May 1st 1561 inaugurated the custom.It is also a symbolic gift for 13 years of marriage and is traditionally used in bridal bouquets thanks to its enticing scent.

Etymology and symbolism

The etymology of muguet is said to derive from muscade (nutmeg), since the smell of the flower has an indefinite nuance reminiscent to it, which became mugade, and finally muguet. A lucky symbol ~it means “return of happiness” in the language of flowers~ the delicate beauty of lily of the valley is however poisonous (especially its reddish fruit) due to convallatoxine, convallamarine, and convallarine; a brave irony on the part of Creation!
Lily of the valley/muguet (Convallaria majalis) is a herbaceous perennial plant prevalent in Asia, Europe and the Eastern USA, with characteristic bell-shaped little flowers, hence its other name May Bells. But its alternative names "Our Lady's tears" and "Male Lily" are more poetically evoctive: Legend wants Eve to have shed bitter tears after the Lapse from the Garden of Eden which falling onto the ground transformed into the white little blossoms. Another medieval legend wants Saint Leondard de Noblac, a knight in the court of Clovis I (of the Limousin region of France) and patron saint to prisoners of all kinds, to have battled with a dragon (a common medieval theme) in which his shed blood trasformed into lilies of the valley. But although one usually associates the delicate green floralncy of its aroma with females now, the term "Male Lily" has another explanation: It has been a favourite perfume for men ever since the 16th century, to the point that up till the 19th century the term muguet was linguistically used to denote an elegant young gentleman!
Another legend wants the Greek God Apollon to have tapestried the mount Parnassus with lilies of the valley so that the Muses wouldn’t hurt themselves if they fell...Classical antiquity paid great attention to the seasonal celebrations of nature and the zenith of the Roman celebrations of Flora, goddess of flowers, culminated on May 1st.

The role of lily of the valley in perfumery and construction of the accord

Lily of the valley is technically a green floral with rosy-lemony nuance*, whereas lily is a white, spicy floral. The former has known a profound and extensive use in perfumery, despite its resistance to natural extraction methods which yield a very miniscule amount of no great significance. Apart from soliflores (fragrances focusing on highlighting the beauty of one kind of flower), the lily of the valley accord has been adequately used in classical fragrances as a catalyst to “open up” and freshen the bouquet of the other floral essences in the heart, much like we allow fresh air to come in contact with an uncorked red wine to let it “breathe” and bring out its best. The effect is wonderfully put to use in Chanel No.19, Guerlain’s Chamade and Jean Patou’s L’Heure Attendue. Its lack of sweetness is also an important aspect in the creation of masculine fragrances: witness Chavelier d’Orsay, Équipage by Hermès, Insensé by Givenchy and Riverside Drive by Bond no.9 to name but a few.

The reconstitutions of lily of the valley note are based on either combinations of natural essences (usually citrus with jasmine, orange blossom or rose and green notes such as vetiver) or more commonly on synthetics. The classical ingredient is hydroxycitronellal, as well as the patended Lyral and Lilial, all coming under the spotlight of the latest restrictions on perfumery materials {you can read all about them here}. Lilial has a cyclamen facet to it, used in good effect in Paco Rabanne pour Homme. Super Muguet is another lily of the valley synthetic which surfaces in Marc Jacobs for men, as a clean facet under the figs. Kovanol is very close to hydroxicitronellal, which is interesting to note. Restricted by IFRA is also the newest Majantol {2,2-Dimethyl-3-(3-methylphenyl)-propanol}, while Muguesia or Mayol are also used to give this green floral smell of muguet. The name Mayol has an interesting background: it’s a nod to comedy singer Félix Mayol who put a boutonnière of the muguets he had been offered by his girlfriend Jenny Crook instead of his usual camelia on the 1st of May of 1895 before going out to sing!
Phenylethyl alcohol and benzyl acetate (the former rosier, the latter jasminer) as well as dimethylbenzenepropanol also contribute in the creation of bases which are used to render lily of the valley notes. It all depends on which impression the perfumer wishes to convey!
The clean, almost soapy nuances of lily of the valley has been traditionally exploited in soaps, which is why all too often lily of the valley as a fragrance note reads as “soapy” in your perfume. It’s also why it’s terribly difficult to render a convincing lily of the valley fine fragrance that does not evoke functional cleaning products, due to the exagerrated use they make of this aroma in that sector of the industry.

Iconic Lily of the Valley fragrances

The definitive lily of the valley fragrance used to be the masterful Diorissimo (1955) by trismegistus Edmond Roudnitska who is said to have planted a bed of them in his garden, so as to study the smell attentively and to evoke the indefinable atmosphere of spring. Lily of the valley used to be the lucky charm of Christian Dior himself, who always sew a twig into the hem of his creations to bring them luck. The juxtaposition of virginal, celestial greenness in the lily-of-the-valley crystal tones of Diorissimo with only a hint at improper smells through the deep, warmly powdery aspect of civet and indolic jasmine in the dry-down is nothing short of magical. Alas, the latest formulation of Diorissimo has taken away that animalic warmth, leaving it with only the clean facet.
Roudnitska himself however had been quite appreciative of the pure and delicate innocence of Muguet des Bois (Muguets of the Woods) by Coty (1942). Guerlain’s seasonal limited edition of Muguet is a rich, sweeter rendition that is partly inspired by the original Muguet of 1906, while Le Muguet by Annick Goutal (2001) is an ethereal and sharper interpretation, quite true to the blossom, if only rather fleeting in Eau de Toilette (alas the only offering). Début by parfums DelRae is an intensely lovely and sylphid-like lily of the valley composition by Michel Roudnitska, which shines like ivory pearls on a long smooth neck. For those who prefer a soft and creamy treatment of the note, I suggest they try Muguet de Bonheur by Caron (1952).

Fragrances with prominent Lily of the Valley notes (in alphabetical order, click links for reviews):

Acaciosa by Caron
Anais Anais by Cacharel (along with lily)
Antilope by Weil
Aqua Allegoria Herba Fresca by Guerlain
Aqua Allegoria Lilia Bella by Guerlain
Be Delicious by Donna Karan
Capricci by Nina Ricci
Chamade by Guerlain (along with hyacinth)
Clair de Musc by Serge Lutens
Climat by Lancôme
Dazzling Silver by Estee Lauder
Début by DelRae
Dior me, Dior me not by Dior (limited edition of 2004, along with sweet pea)
Diorissimo by Christian Dior
Eau d’Argent by Montana
Eclipse by Parfums De Nicolaï
Envy by Gucci
Helmut Lang Eau de Cologne and Eau de Parfum (discontinued)
Jessica Mc Clintock by Jessica Mc Clintock
Koto by Shiseido
Laura by Laura Biagotti
Lauren by Ralph Lauren
Le Muguet by Annick Goutal
Le Muguet de Rosine by Les Parfums de Rosine (discontinued)
Lily by Dior (limited edition of 1999)
Lily of the Valley by Crabtree and Evelyn
Lily of the Valley by Floris
Lily of the Valley by Penhaligon’s
Lily of the Valley by Taylor of London
Lily of the Valley by Winds of Windsor
Lily of the Valley by Yardley
Miss Dior by Christian Dior
Miss Worth by Worth
Mughetto by L'Erbolario
Mughetto by Santa Maria Novela
Mughetto di Primavera by I profumi di Firenze
Muguet by Cotswold Perfumery
Muguet by Guerlain (limited edition, launches for May 1st only each year)
Muguet by Molinard
Muguet by Slatkin
Muguet de Bois by Coty
Muguet de bois by Yves Rocher
Muguet de Bonheur by Caron
Muguet de Mai by Roger & Gallet (discontinued)
Odalisque by Parfums De Nicolaï
Remember Me by Dior (limited edition of 2000)
Sampaquita by Ormonde Jayne
Tiare by Chantecaille
Urban Lily by Strange Invisible Perfumes
W by Banana Republic
XS pour Elle Paco Rabanne

*In a study on the headspace of lily-of-the-valley flowers using GC-MS and GC-sniffing/GC-olfactometry techniques, Brumke, Ritter and Schmaus from the company Dragoco (today Symrise, Germany) identified some 23 compounds contributing to the lily-of-the-valley fragrance, among these several newly detected trace constituents. The odorants could be divided into floral-rosy-citrusy notes: citronellol (9.6 %), geraniol (8.4%), nerol (1.3 %), citronellyl acetate (1.1 %), geranyl acetate (3.3 %), geranial + benzyl acetate (0.96 %), neral (0.02 %), benzyl acohol (35 %), phenethyl alcohol (0.78 %), phenylacetonitrile (3.0 %), farnesol (1.9 %) and 2,3-dihydrofarnesol (0.88 %), green-grassy notes: (Z)-3-hexen-1-ol (11 %), (Z)-3-hexenyl acetate (7.8 %), (Z)-3-hexenal (trace) and (E)-2-hexenal
(0.18 %), green pea and galbanum-like notes: 2-isopropyl-3-methoxypyrazine (trace) and 2-isobutyl-3-methoxypyrazine (trace), fatty, waxy, aldehydic notes: octanal (0.15 %), nonanal (0.1 %), decanal (0.07 %) and fruity, raspberry notes: beta-ionone (trace). In another study of lily-of-the-valley, phenylacetaldehyde oxime was identified (source Bo Jensen).

Muguet pic via mes-passions.over.blog.net
Adrien Barrère, illustration of F.Mayol, chromolithographie via imageandnarrative.be, Diorissimo bottle via Dior