Jean Patou Joy: fragrance review

The archetypal example of a smooth, beautiful jasmine that could be worn sufficiently well without evoking particularly dark tendencies yet without being pointless is Joy by Jean Patou. It remains something of an icon in the status of luxe perfumery, partly due to its initial advertising campaign in the economically hard year of 1930, coined by Elsa Maxwell (“the costliest perfume in the world”), and partly due to its unparalleled standards of raw materials. According to perfumers' lore, the designer Jean Patou, side by side by doyenne of café society Maxwell, went to Alméras to find a new formula for a luxury perfume to be launched. But nothing really grabbed them and, exasperated, the legendary perfumer showed them something he thought unmarkeable anyway: a costly fusion of the noblest floral materials. They both became entranced at this and Joy joined the ranks of Patou scents in 1926 for the loyal customers, while made available widely four years later, at the throes of the Great Depression.

Patou went to great lengths to assure us that 1 ounce of Joy demands 10600 jasmine blooms and 28 dozen roses to be produced. This would be not as impressive, hadn’t those flowers been the venerable jasminum grandiflorum of Grasse in the south of France and the two crown glories of rose varieties: Damascene rose (Rosa Damascena) from Bulgaria and Rose de Mai (Rosa centifolia), the latter again from Grasse. The in-house nose for Patou since 1997 Jean Michel Duriez has monitored the fields and crops to ascertain that the end result rendered out of those two rose varieties meets the quality control criteria demanded by the house of Patou. Now that the Jean Patou house has left P&G hands (a company which didn't particularly care for luxury, it seems, judging by the lack of promotion they did for it), while Duriez stays behind, it's anyone's guess what happens; it remains to be seen whether Joy will be revamped, twisted or forgotten.

Whether the quality has gone downhill in recent batches, as with most commercial perfumes of today, in comparison to the vintage is a matter of dire attention and discussion on several fora. Some people have expressed a concern that the richness of the floral ingredients has been a tad jeopardized, however for what is worth Luca Turin insists that the quality of the end perfume remains unchanged and his info and sample batch comes staight from Patou headquarters. Since I do not have different batches to compare and contrast, because my bottles come from the mid-90s, I cannot speak with authority on the matter. The testing I have contacted in stores in different concentrations and places did not leave me with serious doubt as to the up keeping of the formula, however I repeat that I could not possibly ascertain this beyond any doubt since I do not have comparable material at hand from different eras; on top of that, ascertaining when a particular bottle was actually produced is so very hard, since perfumers -unlike wine producers- do not label the production year on the bottle (which would make our life so much easier, had it been the case!).

At any rate, Joy unfolds majestic proportions of floral grandeur with a nobility and restraint of hand that points to a very skilled perfumer indeed: Henri Alméras. Keeping the noble nature of the two focal points of the suite intact and singing in a melody of thirds, he garlanded them with the merest touch of honeysuckle, ylang ylang and tuberose, anchored by a very light sandalwood base which manages to smell opulent yet beautifully balanced. A grand dame  in a youthful setting, Joy smells translucent and at the same time durable and substantial.

It is my impression that there is a difference of emphasis on the two different concentrations of eau de toilette and eau de parfum. The former is characterized by a more pronounced jasmine intonation, like a solo aria in the midst of a lively Mozart opera, while the latter is a bit more powdery with accents of rosiness that permeate the whole with a softness that resembles a Schumman lullaby. In fact the Eau de Parfum is repackaged Eau de Joy which was a different perfume than Joy in parfum, as per Luca Turin. Given my proclivities for jasmine over rose, I opt for the eau de toilette, however both concentrations are sure to please the lovers of fine perfumes. The parfum is assuredly more animalic in the civet direction (a wonderful characteristic and thus the one which I always prefer over other concentrations) and stays close to the body with an elegance that speaks highly of its aristocratic pedigree. The vintage specimens that display the best quality are the ones in the black snuff bottles (prior to 1990), while the rectangular ones with the gold edges are newer.

Patou Ma Collection: part 6 ~Colony, L'Heure Attendue, Caline reviews

“The exotic image of the deepest jungle, lush vegetation, powerful spices borne over amethyst seas and strange girls in distant sun-kissed ports.” Thus is described Colony in the booklet which accompanies Patou’s Ma Collection.

In 1938, amid the threat of impending war, Jean Patou chose Colony to evoke the tropics and to suggest a carefree, more prosperous time. A fetid and round fruity chypre, Patou’s Colony is comprised of succulent and non-sweet pineapple as well as heady ylang ylang from Nossi-Be starting on an almost herbal, boozy accord pinching your nose, which needs humidity and the warmth of skin to open up. Under the thick netting covering fruits one can feel unfolding earthy tonalities juxtaposed with what seems like leather and musk in a game of chiaroscuro.

The languorous Colony prowls like Lauren Bacall did in "To Have and Have Not", as Marie "Slim" Browning, a resistance sympathizer and a sassy singer in a Martinique club; the perfect “strange girl in distant sun-kissed ports”. Curvaceous clothes cinched at the waist hold her graceful gazelle form as she leans her long neck to give a sideways aloof look at those who catch her attention.
And she knows full well how to entice Steve: “You know you don't have to act with me, Steve. You don't have to say anything, and you don't have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and... blow”.



Colony by Patou possesses that same husky and nostalgic voice which beckons you to whistle invitingly.
Notes for Colony: fruits, pineapple, ylang ylang, iris, carnation, oakmoss, vetiver and spices.

On the other hand, L'heure Attendue is more like the wistful Ilsa played by Ingrid Bergman in "Casablanca". When the Nazi occupation of Paris came indeed at an end, Jean Patou celebrated with “the longed-for hour”, L’heure Attendue; a soft, rather sweet, powdery and woody perfume with creamy taste, embodying elegance, restraint and dutiful sacrifice; it speaks in the melodious tones of a warm-hearted woman.

With shades of Almeras's style in the heart, L'Heure Attendue is sober yet sparkling, all big expressive eyes, smiling yet with a melancholy of realising what all this entailed. The flowers, interweaved into an inseparable posy, are creamy and tender unfolding into a spicy/woodsy drydown which epitomizes classic elegance. One can imagine it worn with the perfect classic tailleur or trench coat, a broad-brimmed hat perched on smooth hair atop softly arched eyebrows. Inside its core a warm, loving heart will forever be pulsating in the beat of happy days spent in Paris.

Notes for L’Heure Attendue: lily of the valley, geranium, lilac; ylang-ylang, jasmine, rose, opopanax; Mysore sandalwood, vanilla, patchouli.

Câline, composed by then in-house perfumer Henri Giboulet, was released by Jean Patou in 1964 as “the first perfume dedicated to teenage girls”. Which means it is unfathomable on anyone who is considered so today! This unblushing aphorism might provoke a flood of inner dialogue in which two sides of consience passionately argue about older and younger mores and how times have irrevocably changed. But the epoch from which Câline hails was by all accounts the era in which young girls aspired to become mature ladies pretty soon, not pigtailed 50-year-olds who carry Hello Kitty bags. There was validation in becoming a grown-up, an antithetical mood to the hysteria of the youth cult which catapulted itself into our consiousness after the 60s. There was nothing apologetic about being older, like there wasn’t either about being younger. Angst and ennui were notions that were just beginning to morph in a world which had healed at long last its WWII scars and envisioned a prosperous future full of the latest technological advancements.

The greenly fresh aldehydic sophistication and malleable primness of Patou’s Câline remind me of Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina, after her European trip in which she becomes a proper “lady”, almost unrecognizable to those who knew her as merely the chauffer’s daughter to the rich family. That je ne sais quoi, which her stay in Paris to amend her broken heart polished her with, is reflected in the refined and discreet trail that Câline leaves behind like a reminder of decorum; or the murmur of enchanting and yet bounded femininity expressed in shadowy iris and insouciant orange blossom, underscored by earthy mossy tones which simultaneously recall shades of Ma Griffe and Ivoire. The piquancy of a basil spicy-like note along with coriander put the finishing touch in its image: It’s poised, ladylike in her kitten-heels and too eager to don the classic pearl necklace with a desire that borders on the ironically saucy.

Not to be confused with Gres Caline from 2005 (nor its flankers, Caline Night and Caline Sweet Appeal)

Notes for Câline: green citrus, spices, jasmin, ylang-ylang, cedarwood, moss, musk.

Clip originally uploaded by zegoar on Youtube. Lauren Bacall and Casablanca pic via Wikipedia. Audrey Hepburn pic via Audrey1. Bottle pics courtesy of Basenotes.

Patou Ma Collection: part 5 ~Vacances review

This painting of Marc Chagall, Lovers in the Lilacs, has always striken me as the quintessential mark of an unanswered question which both love and flowers wear like a corona: how can the ephemeral be coaxed to last?
Lilacs especially live and die for all too brief a season, creating the yearning that short-lived pleasures know how to taunt us with, reminding us of our own mortality.
Vacances by Patou, a fragrance which tries to make them last, was composed by Henri Alméras in 1936 to celebrate the first paid vacations in France (“vacances” in French). Coincidentally it was the same year that Jean Patou himself died of apoplexy at the young age of 49, immersed in business worries and anxious for the future of his house. It seems that his touch on the pulse of trends wasn’t as firmly set in the 1930s as it had been in the 1920s. Luckily the house was saved by Raymond Barbas, his brother-in-law, who would persist and would be commisioning other fragrances to his in-house perfumers Henri Alméras and Henri Giboulet: Colony in 1938, then L’heure Attendue in 1946, and Câline in 1964, as well as other less-known ones such as the 1956 Lasso, Makila, Délices…

Patou himself would have loved to see the deep appreciation lilac and hyacinth lovers feel for his wonderful fragrance, however. Vacances is the best showcase for the simultaneously green, oily and metallic aspects of hyacinth, but also for the richest lilac note one could wish for in a fragrance this side of respectable. And I am saying this because lilac blossoms are profoundly dirty-smelling really, but with such beauty, such wistfulness and such abandon that they know how to play with my heartstrings.

The elusiveness of lilac is due to its resistance to yielding a sufficient essence for use in perfumery, making it the par excellence recreated note, which so often recalls housecleaning products or air-fresheners (the molecule hydroxycitronellal which is also used to recreate muguet/lily of the valley is often the culprit, as well as Terpineol) The IFF Lyral base has also been used in lilac perfumes. On some occasions, perfumers go for an unexpected combination to provide a needed counterpoint, like the aqueous note along with yeast for En Passant by Olivia Giacobetti for F.Malle; or the modern dusty take of Ineke in After my Own Heart.

But immerse your soul into Vacances and you will understand that the message of the lilac panicles is more fulsome, beckoning you to oblivion. The rays of spring sun fall on flowers as if for the first time. But despite its allegiance to spring it can be worn year round.
The starkly green opening of galbanum in Patou's Vacances is the frame to the opaque jade and peppery spice of hyacinth, with its wet green stems smashed. And then the full force of oily-sweet indolic lilac, pretty and dirty like puce-pink knickers dusted with pollen, worn for a day too long and a shower too short. The golden muskiness that remains is subtle yet definitely there, posing a gigantic question mark seeking an answer that will never come.

Notes for Vacances: galbanum, hyacinth, hawthorn, lilac, mimosa, musk, woods

Although Vacances outlived Patou himself, it got to know a hiatus until 1984 when it was re-issued as part of Ma Collection by then in-house perfumer Jean Kerléo. In a coup of inexplicable tragedy, all the scents in Ma Collection however have been discontinued and are quite hard to find. Let’s fervently pray the masterminds at Patou ~and P&G who own them~ bring it back from the dead into the realm of the living where it so passionately belongs.

"Lovers in the Lilacs" by Marc Chagall, courtesy of abcgallery.com. Bottle pic by Frances Ann Ade via Basenotes.

Patou Ma Collection: part 4 ~Divine Folie, Normandie reviews

The Great Crash of 1929 brought the US on its knees. The glamorous lifestyle of those who vacationed to sunny places, yachting and swimming in the trendiest swimming-suits with stripes and bare midriffs after the Chaldée ideal wasn’t at an end, but destitute people were a common occurrence across the country with diverse results as a consequence. Its echo was heard even across the Atlantic, to France where Patou saw many of his American clients diminish their orders in the throes of the Great Depression. In an era of tight economy, however, everyone tried to cope or fake it. "In times of crisis, we shorten the skirts"; a famous Parisian couturier has been known to say. And the best way to impart a little luxury is enjoying the more affordable items of a designer’s brand, such as lipstick or indeed fragrance.
Jean Patou who had devised Joy as “the costliest perfume in the world” at exactly this time, shocking the system, was well cognizant of that axiom: fragrance was still more affordable than couture, even if that fragrance was the “costliest” in the world. The extravagance which any period of crisis brings out in people was reflected in the trends of the 30s.

In 1933 Patou came out with an invitation to “a party mood of exquisite madness” to reflect that extravagance, with his Divine Folie (Divine Folly); an ambery fragrance with a powdery feel, a scattering of slightly sour, oily blooms and a spicy note to give it piquancy. That clove-y carnation whiff reminds me of Adieu Sagesse and the two share the overture but they part ways in the coda: Divine Folie is more ambery and powdery, with a pronounced vanilla veil. It has the nostalgic feel of old-fashioned putty makeup put on to convey a gaiety that is not really felt in the heart, desperation of seeing the end looming after what seemed like the promise of happiness: a little skewed a little flawed, einmal ist keinmal.
Divine Folie resembles Sophie in Maugham’s "The Razor’s Edge", a happy life shattered by tragedy, trickling into the doom of drink, opium and the promiscuity of “dumb but beautiful” sailors. Her decadent façade merely a vitrine, putty make-up to hide the wounds of her soul, her mascara-shoot tears black rivulets betraying the better side of promise.

Notes for Divine Folie: Neroli, Ylang Ylang, Iris, Rose, Jasmine, Musk, Vanilla

In contrast Normandie is Isabel, the proper but not without passion fiancée of Larry who settles for a married rich life instead of pursuing the path to spiritual enlightment with him. Her own disillusionment after the Great Crash and her re-evaluation of her life are aspects which have not yet being explored in Normandie. The fragrance is still the emblem of the good life, of yachting, of cruising, of travelling the world over in defiance of poverty or misery. How extravagant indeed to name a fragrance after a cruise liner! Perfectly fitting the megalomaniac tendencies of the Patou brand, Normandie the liner which showcased some of the most celebrated art nouveau décor in the world and its maiden voyage in 1935 was to be commemorated through Normandie the fragrance.
“The grandiose crossing of the Atlantic. An amber perfume with a pronounced oriental note. A fragrance full of character, mingling jasmine, rose and moss” is how Jean Kérleo chose to present it in the "Ma Collection" booklet. The charming gesture of presenting each passenger aboard the ship with a sample, slot in the funnel of a stylized metal steamer was the ne plus ultra in extravagant launches, on a par with parachuting Paris with Ma Griffe samples.

Normandie blends the prettiest powdery flowers in a picture-perfect bouquet of carnation, jasmine and soapy rose that rests on a table of rich mahogany, the smell of balsam in the background. Much like Ombre Rose or 24 Faubourg, Normandie is a sumptuous, expensive, woody floral with slightly sweet vanillic base which personifies the meaning of good taste and restraint. Exactly like Isabel: well mannered, beautiful yet subtle, an excellent conversationalist, it makes for witty small-talk about the latest gossip if you wish it, but also a discussion about Götterdämmerung. The question is whether she will find the chance to dwelve in the latter and that chance you have to provide for her yourself.

Notes for Normandie: carnation, jasmine, rose, opoponax, tree moss, vanilla, benzoin

Pic of Bonnie and Clyde film courtesy of athinorama.gr, of bottles courtesy of fragranceglobe and netstoreusa.us

Patou Ma Collection: part 3 ~Moment Supreme, Cocktail reviews

There are moments when one is forced to face their demons and try to tame those things one believes to be most antithetical to their nature. Lavender has for a long time eluded me as an aroma to be savored in perfumery, mostly due to its cliché status in many masculine fragrances and secondarily due to its ~I thought~ unimaginative medicinal-ity.
But sometimes one is taken aback: Moment Suprême and Cocktail, both by Patou from the "Ma Collection" set, are linked by their lavender opening, which is treated in two different ways, like the two faces of Janus. While they both present a unisex feeling thanks to the emblematic use of lavender, showing its striking cheekbones and decisive jawline with pride, in Moment Suprême the composition interweaves lavender through its thicker sweet brocade, while in Cocktail it serves as a sparkling top which resembles the brass tromboni in the opening of Stravinsky’s "Sacrificial Dance" from "Rite of Spring".



Moment Suprême came out in 1929, composed by in-house perfumer Henri Alméras, although some give a 1933 date for its introduction. At some point it was incorporated into the love story coffret with the other three beauties: Amour Amour, Que sais-je? and Adieu Sagesse.

Upon cracking the bottle of Moment Suprême open, having observed the pale celadon of the juice, you’re taken with the vintage feel it evokes: lavender showing its medicinal character while just as quickly the plush of amber and vanilla along with a bouquet of flowers peek through. For about half an hour this is the story, when later on there is a delectable hint of spice, like carnation which was so enticing in Adieu Sagesse, makes its solo appearance before retreating to the wings; but leaving the stage lights open to an empty scene which has retained the warmth of the people who have performed. The character of the composition is elegant, defiant and businesslike with a distinct warmth underneath that speaks of silky undergarments.

Notes for Moment Suprême: bergamot, lemon, neroli, mandarin, lavender, May rose, clove, ylang, lilac, jonquil, orris, vanilla, sandal, musk, honey, heliotrope, civet, moss, and benzoin.

The story of Cocktail is fitting to its name, recalling rich patrons sipping dry Martinis and Gibsons while listening to Benny Goodman’s swing clarinet, Prohibition laws making it a naughty affair to get a decent drink.
In his couture shop at 7, rue Saint-Florentin, Jean Patou had the brilliant idea of creating a cocktail bar where men could drink and small-talk while their women shopped for their dresses. In 1930, Patou decided that this could be converted into a veritable perfume bar and Henri Alméas was instructed to create "cocktail" fragrances. The results were the original, Cocktail Dry, Cocktail Sweet, and Cocktail Bitter Sweet.

Cocktail takes crisp lavender and utilizes it like angostura bitters to set off the rest of the intoxicating dryness of this heady drink you’re about to consume. Sharp at first, subtle upon closer inspection, it sparkles with the greeness of herbal aromas like the juniper berries in gin to later whisper with the dry powder of hazy blossoms seen through netting, as if in a drunk stupor. But the point is you could do a lot worse than getting high on Patou’s Cocktail!
In a strike of either ironic coincidence or elective affinity, twenty-five years later perfumer Henri Giboulet created a "cocktail" perfume for Lubin, Gin Fizz. When Henri Alméras retired, Henri Giboulet became in-house perfumer for Patou.

Notes for Cocktail: lavender, geranium, clove, rose and jasmine.

Pics courtesy of mooseyscountrygarden, tout en parfum, netshopusa.us

Patou Ma Collection: part 2 ~Chaldee review

In a roundabout way it was Coco Chanel, Patou’s main rival, that upon returning from vacation tanned as a sailor made sun-bathing fashionable and ultimately desirable inducing Patou to mastermind a fragrance, Chaldée, inspired by the new trend. Sun-worship was to witness resurgence after eons of absentia since its pagan days of idolatry.
For millennia ancient Sumerians, Egyptians, Greeks and Incas embraced the sun’s warm rays as the giver of life. And then even before western society abandoned slavery it embraced distinct social ranking which manifested itself through a very simple means: light skin meant less time spent out in the sun, which was the destiny of workers of the fields and the low classes in general. Thus an Odyssey began for women around the world employing poisons such as lead or arsenic in their quest for the unattainable pale ideal. Until Niels Finsen, that is, who introduced his Light Therapy in 1903 with purported health benefits, creating a mini-revolution, at least amid the scientific community.

But it was Chanel’s finger on the pulse of fashion that brought things full circle. A 1920s accidental tan while cruising from Paris to Cannes aboard the Duke of Westminster's yacht was quickly transformed into a trend-setting fad that was unprecedented. Tanning became a sign of leisure, of wealth, the sign that someone was able to take a vacation, preferably in a warm sunny place. The idolatry angle of the golden sun’s effect was also to manifest itself through the adoration of Josephine Baker who, with her outré style of performance and caramel skin, mesmerized Parisians into wanting to emulate her. Famous fashion photographer Cecil Beaton describes the Duchess of Penaranda in the pages of Vogue magazine:

"She wore sunburn stockings with white satin shoes...the duchess's complexion matched her stockings, for she was burned by the sun to a deep shade of iodine."

Jean Patou could not let this new ideal slip through his grasp like grains of sand between a sunbather’s fingers: he acted fast with Huile de Chaldée, one of the first sun-tanning oils which Henri Alméras, then in-house perfumer to Patou, re-interpreted in fine fragrance simply named Chaldée in 1927. The chosen name was to recall an ancient Babylonian region famed for its amber-skinned beauties. Chaldée with its deap, oily-smelling ambery character bears no relation to modern aspirations to being a Bronze Goddess, no matter how pleasant those might be.

A terrible dawn is showing through the parapets of Chaldea and, as the initial darkness of the night ~heavy with the fatty smell of hyacinths~ lifts, slowly you see upon the ziggurat the woman, adorned in candied tones of orange blossoms; her warm, pulsating flesh offered as an oracle and sacrifice to the all consuming Shamash. Her skin deeply bronzed, emanating all the aromas of Arabia, resiny, intimate, fetid. You can see the furtive but excited looks of the common folk awaiting, smell their humanness. The great knife is raised and swoosh… there flows the blood; scarlet, young, full of life, spent to join Nergal.

Today we know better than to sacrifice our flesh on the altar of Sun almighty in order to achieve the bronze looks and feel of powdered warmth the sun gives us. Yet as author Naomi Wolf notes in her controversial book, "The Beauty Myth", in 1991

"the discovery of photo-aging has created a phobia of the sun entirely unrelated to the risk of skin cancer [...]turning nature into a fearsome enemy from the male tradition's point of view [...]which stimulates women's fears of looking
older in order to drive us in the opposite direction: indoors once more...the
proper place for women in every culture that most oppresses us."

Worth pondering on...
In the meantime slip out a bottle of Chaldée, immerse yourself into its golden nectar and imagine yourself a bloodless Sun-offer.

Notes for Chaldee: orange blossom, hyacinth, jasmine, daffodil, lily of the valley, vanilla, opopanax, amber.

Pic of carnelian stamp seal, Neo-Babylonian Dynasty, about 700-550 BC from Babylon, southern Iraq, courtesy of the British Museum. Pic of Chaldee courtesy of fragranceglobe.com

Patou Ma Collection: part 1 ~Amour Amour,Que Sais Je, Adieu Sagesse reviews

With poetic and mischievous names such as Adieu Sagesse (goodbye wisdom) or Divine Folie (divine folly) the twelve fragrances comprising Jean Patou’s “Ma Collection” pose their own little enigmas for the modern perfumphile to decipher. “Ma Collection” consists of twelve perfumes originally launched between 1925 and 1964, then re-released in 1984 under the wing of Jean Kérleo, then in-house perfumer at Patou (1967-1997) and now president of L’Osmothèque.
The formulae were reputedly reproduced faithfully to the degree that it was realistically possible, making them fascinating facets of their era in more ways than one, but earning them alas the misfortune of ultimately getting discontinued.
Despite Patou’s fame for perennial Joy, the house’s history mainly stood upon his amazing grasp of the mood of the times, translating into fashion visions, a trait also eminently apparent in “Ma Collection”. Many of the "Ma Collection" perfumes along with other 20s fragrances share an aromatic base which threads common tonalities among them. Although olfactory gems, these are scents very much embedded in their time frame. A vast ocean of difference divides them from today's fragrances.

Born in 1887 in Normandy and dead in 1936, Jean Patou was the son of a tanner and nephew of a fur-maker, joining the latter in 1907. In a few years he had moved to Paris at the small Maison Parry where he became a dressmaker earning the loyalty of a devoted clientele and opening his own house in 1914. After a stint as Captain of Zouaves during WWI, he launched his first couture collection under his own name in 1919. Success prompted him to open a New York office to cater to the demand of his numerous American clients. Impressed by the long legs of the Americans, he brought back with him 6 models (after auditioning 500), causing uproar in the French press. Later he expanded into a Coin des Sports in 1925 (with a separate space for each sport), as well as shops in the resorts of Deauville and Biarritz.

Understanding the 1920s ideal, youthful and physically fit, and admiring the American simple cuts and architectural seam lines, he was the first to introduce the casual elegance of sportswear for women and complementary accessories with his JP monogram outlined on pockets. Suzanne Lenglen, tennis Wimbledon star, wore Patou clothes on and off the court, while Ruth Elder, the American aviator, was another client. Women everywhere suddenly wanted to emulate the new lank look. But his flamboyant interpretation of contemporary art movements, such as Cubism, was the headstart for imaginative creations such as the iconic cubist sweaters. His younger sister Madeleine, an active, modern woman, also provided inspiration. His rivalry with iconoclast Chanel was of epic proportions, becoming a legend, yet it was Patou who dropped the hemline and raised the waistline, with Coco following suit.

Patou like Chanel was also among the first couturiers to include perfumes as part of a collection, a vehicle to instigate a sense of coherence to fashion houses, founding the fragrance division in 1923. He introduced his first three together in 1925, with the help of Paul Poiret's perfumer, Henri Alméras. According to Jean de Moüy, Patou’s great-nephew, they were inspired by the stages of a love affair and interestingly each was conceived for a woman of specific hair colour: Amour Amour, symbolizing the whirlwind start when heart first beats, was created for blondes; Que sais je? (What do I know?), intended for brunettes, represents the questioning whether to act upon one’s feelings; while Adieu Sagesse (goodbye wisdom), fit for redheads, signals the decision of abandonement into eros.
The bottles were designed by architect Louis Süe who also created the bottle of Joy while illustrations were by André Mare.

Upon encountering the romantic nature of Patou's Amour Amour one realises that it serves as the precursor of the floral symphony in Joy. The similarity is more pronounced at the start, with the dominance of sweet jasmine and delicate rose, while later on Amour flies into brighter, soapier arpegios of lily of the valley with a slight touch of Hesperides and salty ambergris recalling a striking gouache in sunny colours.
Although it was allegedly claimed by Marcel Billot, its true creators are Alméras and also Marius Reboul from Givaudan who contributed with the 30% inclusion of one of his bases*.
Notes for Amour Amour: bergamot, strawberry, lemon, ylang-ylang, rose, lily, carnation, heliotrope, vetiver, civet, honey, ambergris.

Que sais je? would be my choice out of this magnificent trio by Patou and not only for chromatically matching reasons; a decadent chypre with a peachy-plummy opening and a nutty aspect. Discreet touches of gourmand delights err on the side of honey and spices with a heart of generous orange blossom seguing into mossy and animalic notes which hint at some naughty affair. Resembling liquid citrines or ambery topaz mounted in gold, Que sais-je is a luxury that should be savoured in measured quantities like exquisite jewels that exhibit themselves best on black velvet.
Luca Turin likens it to Gianduja, a type of nutty chocolate candy first prepared by Pierre Paul Caffarel and recommends it for those who dislike the vanilla in Shalimar. However it is mostly reminiscent of Femme, especially the reformulated version with its sexier character including sweaty cumin. Was Olivier Cresp, responsible for the latter, inwardly influenced by Que Sais-je? I can also see it being a distant inspiration for the playful hazelnut accord in Deci Delà by Nina Ricci.
Notes for Que sais-je?: peach, honey, hazelnut wood

Dabbing a little Adieu Sagesse is akin to forgetting my everyday existence and imagining myself as a heroine in "Tender is the Night", replete with villa at the South of France and a disturbing yet intriguing background story. A crisp floral centered on the headiness of narcissus with a generous spicy eugenol accord recalling cloves and carnations and warm powdery notes due to opoponax, Patou's Adieu Sagesse shares a mysterious quality with the other two fragrances and dries into a sexy odour like a fur stole that has been kept at a carnation-filled boudoir.
Notes for Adieu Sagesse: bergamot, blackcurrant, daffodil, neroli, lily, jonquil, lily of the valley, carnation, tuberose, rose, jasmine, vetiver, musk, civet.

The "Ma Collection" fragrances are now sadly discontinued, but some of them appear online from time to time (such as on Fragrance Globe), or in shops with overstock. Eaux de Toilette come in splash or spray. The Parfum comes in 30 ml/1oz. flacon wrapped in a silk pochette. All twelve of the fragrances are sold together as collectible Eaux de Toilette minis.

Readers who will comment on the posts of the Patou “Ma Collection” Series enter the draw for a complete set of samples of all 12 fragrances.

To be continued...

Pics from ebay,1st perfume, perfumeshop.com and fragranceglobe.com.
*Info & ad provided by Octavian Coiffan

Labdanum: an important material (in chypre fragrances & not only)

It is well known to our readers by now that chypre perfumes are dependent on a strict formula that juxtaposes bergamot and oakmoss, interlaying labdanum and other earthy elements such as vetiver or patchouli.
Perfume Shrine has already focused on oakmoss extensively (click for relevant article), so the other important material that needed tackling was labdanum. And so here we are today, trying to examine some of its facets.

First of all, what is it? It comes as a sticky dark brown resin exudate from two sources: from the shrubs Cistus ladaniferus (western Mediterranean) and Cistus creticus (eastern Mediterranean), both species of rockrose. Rockrose forms the Cistaceae (or rock-rose family), a rather small family of plants reknowned for their beautiful shrubs, covered by flowers at the time of blossom. It consists of about 170-200 species in eight genera and those are distributed primarily in the temperate areas of Europe and the Mediterranean basin, although they can be found in North and South America too in some instances. The flowers themselves have a faint odour and are not used in perfumery.

Labdanum is a natural oleoresin but it differs slightly from other oleoresins in that it contains more waxes and less volatile oil than most of the other natural oleoresins.

There is an ancient background to labdanum, as its etymology reveals: lôt in Hebrew (coming from a semetic root) which means resinous herb, ladunu in assyrian, lâdhan in Arabic, ledanon in Greek and ladanum/labdanum in Latin. Egyptians used it in their Kyphi mixtures whereas the Hebrews burned it in their temples as incense, so it had a ceremonial character.
It is even referenced in The Bible (as Balm of Gilead): The Ishmaelite caravan coming from Gilead to which Joseph was sold, was transporting labdanum (Genesis 37, 25). Subsequently, Jacob ordered his sons to offer labdanum, along with other local products, to their brother, now an Egyptian dignitary:

"And their father Israel said unto them, If it must be so now, do this; take of the best fruits in the land in your vessels, and carry down the man a present, a little balm, and a little honey, spices, and myrrh, nuts and almonds."

(Genesis 43, 11) {found through Bible fragrances}.

It is believed that the above refers to the resin from the Pink Rockrose as "myrrh", although the two are not interchangeable. Myrrh per se is mentioned in the Bible (Psalm 45:8; Song of Solomon 4:14) and is believed to have been a mixture of natural myrrh (extracted from a tree in Africa and Arabia, like franckincense used to be got as well) and the oleoresin labdanum.

The Japanese use labdanum today in their Neriko mixtures, used during tea ceremony. The tradition is alive!

The use of ladbanum in medicine is well documented. Its high content in polyphenols makes it an excellent food supplement protecting the immune system.
In ancient times it was used for its properties of protection against bacteria and fungi.

It is suggested that the Pharaohs used fake beards made of goat hair (from animals that had grazed upon the resiny bushes) for that reason, but also to surround themselves with an aura of distinction.
Greek physician Hippocrates prescribed "myrrh" (the mixture of natural myrrh and labdanum, as above) for sores and the Romans used it to treat worm infestations, the common cold, coughs, and some infections. Up to 3000 tons of frankincense and myrrh were transported each year during the height of Nabataean trade!
According to Cocker, J. D.; Halsall, T. G.; Bowers, A. (1956). "The chemistry of gum labdanum. I. Some acidic constituents" (Journal of the Chemical Society: 4259-62) and II. The structure of labdanolic acid" (Journal of the Chemical Society: 4262-71):

Labdane is a natural bicyclic diterpene that forms the structural core for a wide variety of natural products collectively known as labdanes or labdane diterpenes. The labdanes were so named because the first members of the class were originally obtained from labdanum, a resin derived from rockrose plants."

while

A variety of biological activities have been determined for labdane diterpenes including antibacterial, antifungal, antiprotozoal, and anti-inflammatory activities.

(Studies in Natural Product Chemistry : Bioactive Natural Products, Part F, Atta-Ur-Rahman)

Theophrastus and Pliny mention labdanum as does Herodotus in his Historia, in the book "Thalia" (one of a total of 9,named after the Muses):

"Ledanum, which the Arabs* call ladanum, is procured in a yet stranger fashion. Found in a most inodorous place, it is the sweetest-scented of all substances. It is gathered from the beards of he-goats, where it is found sticking like gum, having come from the bushes on which they browse. It is used in many sorts of unguents, and is what the Arabs burn chiefly as incense.
Concerning the spices of Arabia let no more be said. The whole country is scented with them, and exhales an odour marvellously sweet."

{*please note that the Arabs referenced by Herodotus are ancient tribes inhabiting the region called Arabia and not today's islamic populace}.

But then why the confusion with opiates? The answer goes back to the Middle Ages and Paracelsus. A famous medical preparation of his own -which included gold, crushed pearls and other ingrendients (Opera, 1658, i. 492/2), but with opium as its chief component. Therefore the term is now used for the alcoholic tincture of opium (q.v.). The name was either invented by Paracelsus from Latin laudare (=to praise), or was a corrupted form of "ladanum" (from Persian ladan), a resinous juice or gum obtained from various kinds of the Cistus shrub, formerly used medicinally in external applications and as a stomach tonic." (Source 1911encyclopedia.org)


Labdanum's odour profile is highly complex. It is balsamlike, with woody, earthy, smoky, and even marshy undertones. Some even desrcibe it as ambergris-like, or leathery and honeylike with hints of plum or oakmoss after a rain. Usually it is referred to as ambery, but it is mostly used to render leather or ambergris notes, the latter especially after its ban on using the real animal-derived material, as there were concerns about the ethical production of it from sperm whales from which it originates (Ambergris is therefore very rare and costly if ethically harvested and is mostly synthesized in the lab. Please read this amber article for more info).

Its complexity is one of the reasons it has fascinated people since antiquity and it has been reported to affect the subconsious in profound ways. Its aromatheurapeutic value is that it is grounding, warming and sensual.

The method of extracting it is unusual and highly entertaing at that. Herodotus and Pliny report that labdanum was collected by combing the beards of goats, which were impregnated with the substance. The goats graze from the branches and the sticky resin gets stuck on their beards. Upon their return, their owners comb the resin our of their beards and extract the resin.

Also a rakelike instrument with long strips of leather attached to it, which they drag across the bushes to collect the resin, is used, called ladanesterion.
To this day labdanum is still gathered in Crete by driving goats into the thick forests overgrown with labdanum bushes. It is difficult work as it is best done in hot weather, under bright sunlight in the summer months. Sises is a Cretan village near Rethymnon, where such work is done to this day (coincidentally also the area from which El Greco/Dominikos Theotokopoulos comes).
You can read amazing detail on this matter on this site by Dimitris Niktaris: Labdanum Gr.

Today modern production is mainly concetrated in Spain and is done through easier means. However there is something to be said about the small, manual labour of cretan production that is of top quality.
The modern method involves boiling the leaves and twigs of this plant in water and the gum being skimmed off the surface and mixed with other resinous matter, which sinks to the bottom of the boiling water, as the resinoid is unsoluble in water. The extraction of the crude or cleaned labdanum gets done with a hydrocarbon solvent, whereas petroleum ether is being used increasingly because it yields a light amber resinoid which contains the most wanted odour principles in high concentration: cinnamon base - (isoeugenol) and labdanum resinoid. An absolute is obtained by solvent extraction whereas an essential oil is produced by steam distillation.

In perfumery it is used in many alloys, chypres notwithstanding and mixes well with hundreds of ingredients, interestingly one of which is lavender, another mediterranean herb.
Labdanum gum may contain up to 20% water, but this should be squeezed off or cautiously dried off. When in its fresh state, it is plastic but not pourable. It hardens on ageing, even to the point of becoming brittle. However if it is so at room temperature, it should be rejected as a starting material for the processing of labdanum derivatives.
Its shelf life is about 36 months and can be used in 10.0000 % in the fragrance concentrate.

One of the fragrances that focus on labdanum is Le Labo's Labdanum 18. Tagged as an enigma, to be used by both sexes, it focuses on the mysterious ambience that labdanum creates, fusing animalic and warm notes that meld on the skin.
Other fragrances that are rich with the note (but no guarantees on it always being naturally derived) are:
Donna Karan Essence Collection Labdanum ,Monia di Orio Lux, Dia for men by Amouage, L'eau Trois by Diptyque, Rien by Etat Libre d'Orange, Andy Tauer L'air du desert marocain ~Click for review~ (and reportedly it will feature in his Incense Duo as well), Patou pour Homme, Tabac Sport by Mäurer & Wirtz, Boucheron Pour Homme, Capucci Pour Homme, ST Dypont Signature pour homme, Eau Sauvage Extrême by Christian Dior, Whole Notes a floriental from Canadian perfumer Lyn Ayre of Coeur d’Esprit Natural Perfume, Prada, Prada Tendre and Prada Amber pour Homme, Mathew Williamson Incense, Ho Hang by Balenciaga, Jacques Bogart One man show, Ayala Moriel natural perfumes Ayalitta, Autumn and Democracy and Anya's Garden natural perfume Pan ~click for review~ that features real billy goat hair tincture.

Pics from bojensen.net, ladanisterion pic originally uploaded by labdanum.gr

Jasmine series: part 4 ~mellow jasmine suggestions

The fact that jasmine may take on a more sinister turn accounting for fecal undertones that leave many people with apprehension and dismay does not mean that jasmine fragrances have to espouse that aspect. It is perfectly possible to evoke a balanced approach which could project a soft, mellow and elegant disposition and could be more easily wearable for even the non die-hard jasmine fans. To this end today we are examining some suggestions that might fall into that category of mellow jasmine compositions.
The archetypal example of a smooth, beautiful jasmine that could be worn sufficiently well without evoking particularly dark tendencies is the perennial Joy by Jean Patou. It remains something of an icon in the status of luxe perfumery, partly due to its initial advertising campaign in the economically hard year of 1930, coined by Elsa Maxwell (“the costliest perfume in the world”) and partly due to its unparalleled standards of raw materials. Patou went to great lengths to assure us that 1 ounce of Joy demands 10600 jasmine blooms and 28 dozen roses to be produced. This would be not as impressive hadn’t those flowers been the venerable jasminum grandiflorum of Grasse in the south of France and the two crown glories of Damascene rose from Bulgaria and Rose de Mai (rosa centifolia) again from Grasse. The current nose for Patou since 1997, Jean Michel Duriez, is monitoring the fields and crops to ascertain that the end result rendered out of those two varieties meets the quality control criteria demanded by the house of Patou.

Whether the quality has gone downhill as with most commercial perfumes of today in comparison to the vintage is a matter of dire attention and discussion on several fora.
Some people have expressed a concern that the richness of the floral ingredients has been a tad jeopardized, however for what is worth Luca Turin insists that the quality of the end perfume remains unchanged and his info and sample batch comes staight from Patou headquarters. Since I do not have different batches of Joy to compare and contrast, because my bottles come from the mid-90s, I cannot speak with authority on the matter. The testing I have contacted in stores in different concentrations and places did not leave me with serious doubt as to the up keeping of the formula, however I repeat that I could not possibly ascertain this beyond any doubt since I do not have comparable material at hand from different eras; on top of that ascertaining when a particular bottle was actually produced is so very hard, since perfumers -unlike wine producers- do not label the production year on the bottle (which would make our life so much easier, had it been the case!).

In any case, Joy unfolds majestic proportions of floral grandeur with a nobility and restraint of hand that points to a very skilled perfumer indeed: Henri Alméras. Keeping the noble nature of the two focal points of the suite intact he garlanded them with the merest touch of honeysuckle, ylang ylang and tuberose, anchored by a very light sandalwood base which manages to smell opulent yet beautifully balanced.
It is my impression that there is a difference of emphasis on the two different concentrations of eau de toilette and eau de parfum. The former is characterized by a more pronounced jasmine intonation like a solo aria in the midst of a lively Mozart opera, while the latter is a bit more powdery with accents of rosiness that permeate the whole with a softness that resembles a Schumman lullaby. In fact the Eau de Parfum is repackaged Eau de Joy, which was a different perfume than Joy in parfum, per Luca Turin. Given my proclivities for jasmine and because this is an article devoted to jasmine, I opt for the eau de toilette, however both concentrations are sure to please the lovers of fine perfumes.
The parfum is assuredly more animalic in the civet direction (a wonderful characteristic and thus the one which I always prefer over other concentrations) and stays close to the body with an elegance that speaks highly of its aristocratic pedigree.

Next on the mellow balanced list is First by Van Cleef and Arpels. It has been adequately discussed on Perfume Shrine in Jasmine Series Part 2, so suffice to say that it is a very elegant and classy success. If you haven’t tried it, please do so and preferably in the eau de parfum concentration which highlights its attributes well.

Diptyque’s Jardin Clos is a jasmine buried in the plush of lilacs and the freshness of greenery of a churchyard full of hyacinths. There is an element of bulb wetness as if the grounds have just been rained upon in the early spring morning and some stale stems that go hand in hand with all cathedrals with cobblestone roads leading up to them; a distant whiff of a little spice like cloves on some parishioner’s breath. But oh wait! There I see some tourists coming up the tracks as well. They are dressed in jeans and crisp minimalist shirts, their hair in a modern simple cut, dancing round their faces; they are probably wearing L’eau d’Issey in discernible amounts.
Sadly the oakmoss does not temper the aqueous quality as much as needed.
I appreciate Yves Coueslant and Christiane Gautrot’s vision of naturalistic fragrances that evoke paysages and memories. It’s just that this one is not as distinctive as the rest of them in the niche category. On the other hand, if you want a fragrance that will not raise eyebrows from the non niche lovers in the general public out there I can’t see this one doing that. Unless we’re talking about people who hated L’eau d’Issey the first time around!
The official notes for it:
Watermelon, White Lilac, Mimosa, Hyacinth, Seringa, Hollyhocks,
Wisteria, Mignonette, Wallflowers, Daffodils, Virginia Cedar,
Oakmoss, Tolu Balsam
Official site here.

Ayala Moriel’s Yasmin is completely different: to mellow the animalic character of Yasmin she uses the even more daring cassie/acacia note that is dense and opulent! The combination is successful, paradoxically, because there is a firmly measured amount of it and the base notes of amber and sandalwood are never too loud, allowing the slightly greener ribbons of the opening enfold the little blossoms in a cheerful embrace. Out of all the notes there is the predominance of a realistic gardenia note emerging, which veers the perfume in alleys of nightfall lushness. But the mastery in Yasmin lies in coaxing this into submission so as to be the single blossom corsage on one’s wrist, not a big bright crown of blossoms on one’s hair.
The overall character is sweet and uplifting, bright and romantic like a summer’s sojourn on a Mediterranean cottage overlooking the sea, friendly laughs by noon, erotic strolls by night.
You can see her description and sample on her site here.

Linda Pilkington, the perfumer for Ormonde Jayne’s Sampaquita (based on jasmine sambac) turned her attention to more tropical surrounding. Although the greeting note of bergamot and grass might evoke the Sicilian landscape of comparably familiar Mediterranean memories, it soon mixes lychee fruity tones with an acqueous feel of water lily that manage to mix with other floral notes such as the waxy slightly lemony magnolia petals, the green of lily of the valley, the sharp and pepper of freesia and the softness of rose to become an exotic sweet mélange that is balanced and surprisingly subtle. The jasmine note is not particularly evident, which is a shame for jasmine lovers like me, but could make this an easy choice for those who prefer their jasmine more subdued in a supporting role.
The OJ site says the following:

"National Flower of the Philippines, literally translated as 'I Promise You', Sampaquita flower is a symbol of purity and fragility, coupled with fidelity and resolve. The scent opens with an unmistakable summer bouquet, bursting forth with sun-kissed lychee set on a canvas of bergamot, grass oil and magnolia flowers in full seductive bloom. The marriage of these elements, together with a dusky floral heart of sampaquita absolute, freesia and muguet, combine to form a fusillade of fabulous intensity. An inspired quartet of base notes, musk, vetiver, moss and ambrette seed, unify and harmonise this sensational summer scent".

Official notes:
Top notes: Lychee, grass oil, bergamot and magnolia
Heart notes: Sampaquita absolute, freesia, muguet, rose and water lilies
Base notes: Musk, vetivert, moss and ambrette seed
In fact it reminds me quite a bit of Patricia de Nicolai’s Juste une rêve, which is another tropical floral of the same proclivities or even of Chance by Chanel with the balancing vetiver base under the florals and the fruits over it.

In contrast Ormonde Jayne’s Frangipani Absolute, which is much more assertive and bold, with brighter accents, proclaims its presence for all to see. The start is all lemony and lime rind that is quite loud, while it progresses to buttery warmth like tuberose crossed with a lush juicy fruit and dying hyacinths in a vase; which is also a tad traitorous to the spirit of real jasmine, like previously, but oh well...
However there is no dark animalic tonality, neither is it light nor “fresh”, so it fits in the middle category designated for our mellow jasmine florals. The musky base with cedar accents is balanced and supporting, accounting for a tropical scent that will not induce nausea from too much synthetic sweetness which is a high compliment for this category of scents. If you ever venture in the jungle of a southeastern country, all humid atmosphere and animal noises heard in the background, don’t forget to pack a little bit of this too. I think it fits perfectly.
Official notes:
Top notes: Linden Blossom, Magnolia Flower, Lime Peel
Heart notes: White Frangipani Absolute, Jasmine, Rose absolute, Tuberose absolute,
Water Lily, Plum, Green Orchid oil
Base notes: Camber, Musk, Cedar, French Vanilla absolute
View the Ormonde Jayne fragrances at her official site


Jo Malone in her fragrance combining bag of goods has Honeysuckle & Jasmine. Completely true to spirit and name, this smells like those two summery blossoms combined at different intervals: honeysuckle opening, which is more pronounced, jasmine subtle heart and exit. Light and sweet, like a walk through summer gardens with those two vines climbing up the fence, sitting under the shade sipping freshly squeezed sweet lemonade. There is a woody note in the background too with the merest whiff of clean powdery musk for the finale.
It pairs really well with her Orange Blossom or French Lime Blossom for even more transparency; or if you want to be daring pair with her warm 154 woody scent.

See more details here


Next post in the Jasmine Series will tackle fresh and translucent interpretations of jasmine.

Painting "La Naissance de Venus" by Eugène Emmanuel Amaury-Duval. Poster from the film The Painted Veil courtesy of cineparmenos.gr

What do the rich smell of?

It might seem a silly question. And yet, it made me ponder a bit. Intrigued by gut response received upon casual comments on various fora and the amount of controversy that issues of money and class raise even in classless United States, I have been coming to the conclusion that it is indeed a loaded question.

Upon initial shifting the general concensus seems to be that people with loaded pockets and platinum cards with credit limits on the upper echelons really go for the super exclusive, the elusive, the prestigeous and the ridiculously priced.
The recent example of the wedding gift of Clive Christian perfume to Katie Holmes by Tom Cruise, for her to wear on her wedding day is a case in point of the latter. No.1 retails for 600 euros for a 50ml/1.7oz bottle of parfum; which is actually the minimum basic salary in my country. I leave deductions to you...
The real question would be: "is it worth it?" This to me at least has to do solely with content and not presentation. Otherwise one can decant a glorious perfume in the most exquisite Baccarat bottle and enjoy it from there or just use a milk carton, it does not make that big a difference in my mind...
Purpotedly, Clive Christian No.1 for women consists of only the finest, rarest and most precious materials. However there is so much one can put into a perfume in terms of quality, after which point the whole starts to smell overwhelming and bad. I mean, upwards a certain point it does not make any difference because there is so much one can include anyway. And if one cares to look at the list of notes, one stumbles upon the insurmountable block of lily of the valley; a note that cannot be successfuly extracted from nature, a note that has to be recreated with other elements, most common of which are Citronellyl Acetate varietys A and Acetate pure, Geranyl Acetate pure, Lindenol and Terpineol Alpha JAX. As to other notes, the majority of top notes consists of things that do not skyrocket the paycheck for obtaining them: lime, Sicilian mandarin, cardamom, nutmeg, and thyme. And in its floral heart, ylang ylang is the rarity in the cost department of floral essences inventory (meaning it's relatively cheap), hence called "poor man's jasmine". The ambery woods of the base is so vague that it leaves me doubtful as to what exactly goes in the production.
So sorry, I am not convinced the price tag really reflects the content. A certain amount of snobbism is involved as well. And by the way, since the hostorian never really leaves my writing, snob derives from the notification that newly rich young men got upon entering the aristocratic colleges of the old Britain, namely Oxford and Cambridge: s.nob, denoting sine nobilitas, latin for "no nobility". Worth keeping in mind.

Joy by Jean Patou, Henri Alméras' tour de force, was touted as "the costliest perfume in the world" back in its heyday in 1930, affirming the inextricable tie between perfume, luxury and financial abandon. It was actually Elsa Maxwell, venomous gossip queen of the 30s that came up with the infamous moniker about it, the one that sealed its success besides its rich bouquet of the best jasmine and lushest rose. But those were times of recession and ruin after the Wall Street crash of 1929. It was completely irrational then as is Clive Christian now, even though it was initially devised as a less costly means of giving american women a slice of Patou's prestige now that they could no longer afford his couture. The difference though hinged on the pretenciousness that is lacking in Joy's case. Today Joy pure parfum in the 30ml/1oz bottle costs 160£ (british pounds) or 299$ at internet discounters.

Marie Antoinette is well known for her excesses and the recent biopic made by Sofia Coppola has brought her once again in the spotlight. There is a well known tale about how it was her perfume that sent her to the guillotine. On June 20,1791 Louis XVI, Marie Antoinette and their family retinue attempted to escape to eastern France, where troops loyal to the monarchy were waiting after the revolution had gained control of Paris. Their flight however was cut off at Varennes; they were recognised and arrested there and sent off to Paris under escort where they met their demise at the guillotine two years later. There is some speculation that it was the divine quality (and contrast with the rest of the people) of Marie Antoinette's perfumes and pomades that set her apart despite her disguise when they travelled, as 18th century France was a place infested with disease, full of open sewers and all that at a time when talking a bath was not to be indulged in often.
According to The Scotsman, many people have been intrigued by the scent of the decadent royal and an effort to recreate it has resulted in "Sillage de la Reine" (Queen's wake) by Elisabeth de Feydeau, "a writer who stumbled upon the lost recipe, along with the Parisian perfume-maker Francis Kurkdjian. Ms Feydeau was preparing a biography of its inventor, Jean-Louis Fargeon, the court perfumer, when she made the discovery. Mr Kurkdjian agreed that he should try to resurrect the scent using the techniques and ingredients of Fargeon's day "just to see if we could. It was very difficult because although we possess the same primary materials, the environment now is very different." But he was satisfied with the result - a mixture of jasmine, rose, iris, tuberose, lavender, musk, vanilla, ambergris, cedar, sandalwood and other essences. "The perfume is 100 per cent natural, and certainly something that the queen would have worn," he added. Ms Feydeay said smelling the Queen's Wake is "as if you're walking past a magnificent bouquet comprising flowers of every season. It has an incredible fullness." The whole composition has been likened to a precursor of Chanel #5, which begs the question why pay so much for something that can be had for much less, but I guess it's not the super-rich that wil grab those bottles but the super-collectors. You can read about the recreated perfume clicking here

And what do the rich and famous wear? One of my perfume projects is to document a list of perfumes picked up by the rich and famous, some richer than others, some more famous than others and the result can be seen clicking here It seems that among the more exclusive choices they sometimes go for things that are set by trends, or for the ubiquitous Creed fragrance which I largely attribute to Creed's magnificent PR machine, more than their consistent taste. It's interesting and fun to peruse the list however.

What do ordinary people think the rich smell of? I think most folks are judging by what is considered Bon Chic, Bon Genre when they attribute classic Rue Cambon Chanel perfumes, classic and boutique Guerlains and some Goutals to the rich and incidentally classy people. However as we all know rich and classy are not interchangeable and one should leave a leaway for the more vulgar choices. Those latter ones would have a more outspoken and loud personality to go with newly acquired money, elaborate porn-chic french manicures on long talons, bleached hair to an inch of their lives and gaudy jewels when none is required for women, really heavy all-gold watches for men. At least that's the image I freely associate with it and I would be a little coy in naming specific names.
My personal experience tells me that the richer and classier one is, the less inclined he/she is to drown all the others around in the fumes! The really rich people I have known and smelled have all worn light, subtle fragrances that were imperceptible until they leaned for a social shake of hands.
What did I smell? Aqua di Parma original cologne, Diorella and Eau du Cologne Impériale by Guerlain (latter was on a guy).
A couple of others had something on I did not recognise definitely, but still in the same vein. They were ship owners and involved in shipping: loads of money, no doubt about that.

And finally yes, when all is said and done if you're finding yourself savouring the waft from a syrupy potent composition, it's unlikely you're downwind from Princess Caroline of Monaco. I'm sorry.......

Pic comes from Czguest by Slim Aaron