The Truth About Patchouli Chypres or Floral Patchoulis: Not So Recent After All

Many perfume aficionados have noticed the ubiquitness of patchouli oil in modern fragrances; either in the form of the "fruitchouli" fragrance where the dominance of patchouli is given a sweeter overlay of usually berry fruits or in the form of the "floral patchouli" which we affectionately call the "nouveau chypre" (or "pink chypre" perfume). Technically nevertheless at least the latter is not as recent as all that.

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In fact these so called patchouli "chypres" as many have suspected all along are not "true" chypres perfumes. Rather the dominance of floral notes plus patchouli and the relative lack of animal notes and musk places them in a slightly separate group which I had been meaning to tackle for a long whilte. That group however is none the less revered taking into account the many classic perfumes which are classified within it.

These floral patchouli perfumes have mainly become possible through the introduction of "luminous/transparent jasmine" in the late 1960s aka the Hedione ingredient which "reads" as fragrant lightly green air above the jasmine vine. The pliability of this material makes it the perfect bridge between the sweet medicinal-woody note of patchouli and the rest of the floral components. Indeed most of the patchouli perfumes with dominant floral elements are fitting neatly into the 1970s and 1980s slot: Diorella (1972). Aromatics Elixir (1972). Coriandre (1973). Paloma Picasso (1984). Knowing (1988).

If you think about it the "nouveau chypres" with Narciso for Her eau de toilette being in the vanguard didn't deviate much from this path. The patchouli is "cleaned" up of its darker chocolate and peppery aspects but the woodiness prevails alongside a modern Amberlyn (ambrox) base and the overlay of sweet orange blossoms; a noticeable floral component.  White Patchouli by Tom Ford also divests of the dirtier aspects of patchouli and increases the white flowers antel it's a prime example of the contemporary translation of this concept. There is also the new Aromatics in White by Clinique; fittingly a flanker to the original Aromatics Elixir perfume from the 1970s. I have noticed that the use of "white" in the name lately has taken to suggest a sizable slice of patchouli in the modern style.

In what concerns the Diorella fragrance by Dior the main chord is built around Hedione-Helional-eugenol-patchouli. The fact that Helional used in 5% quota in the formula carries an airy and watery hint with it speaks volumes; it's no coincidence that Diorella works very very well in the heat! Especially combined with the copious citrusy essences on top. Hedione 10% and cis-jasmone 2% plus natural jasmine absolute gave the richness of the classic Diorella floralcy. Rose only played a very very small part in the original composition. A hint of peachy note was possible through C14 aldehyde. The softness of that note plus the airier-watery components conspire to give an illusion of melon to our noses.

Some of the basic components in Diorella are also taken unto Aromatics Elixir by Clinique though the formula there takes a turn for the rosier and darker without pronounced citrus notes. Helional and Hedione again combine with patchouli as well as vetiver (for an enhanced earthy feel) and woody violets. The bouquet is further enhanced and "opened" with lily of the valley synthetics like the air seeps into a newly opened bottle of red wine and lets it "breathe". I always find that either Hedione or lily of the valley are the decisive "keys" with which a composition of formula unlocks its message.

I'm using the example of Aromatics Elixir to further discuss the likes of Aramis 900, Paloma Picasso and Knowing by Estee Lauder. These form a tight group of kinship. Not coincidentally the common perfumer at the helm of IFF and commissioned with the work for Lauder (Aramis and Clinique are both Lauder companies) was Bernant Chant; he of Cabochard (a more hardcore leather chypre fragrance) as well as of Aromatics Elixir and of Aramis classic for men. 

Knowing in particular is an undersung marvel and "reads" today as a very venerable authentic chypre thanks to its perfume-y powdery character. But its progeny must be traced into the floral patchoulis of the previous decade. Specifically Coriandre.

In Jean Couturier's Coriandre fragrance the key ingredient is the similarly jasminic Magnolione (comprising 20% of the formula) alongside 10%  patchouli. The rose base is founded on geranium making the trasition of Coriandre into a shared fragrance more easily imagined. The spicy top predictably includes coriander but also the intensely green "budding" note of styralyl acetate (the scent of budding gardenias) and ylang ylang. So it's again a floral aspect given a woody underlay (apart from vetiver and cedar ingredients there's also sandalwood; arguably the genuine Mysore variant back in the time of original launch of the fragrance.

The difference with Knowing is that the American taste for almondy fluffiness manifests itself via the use of heliotropin, while there is also the component of a white floral that makes its presence known: tuberose with its bubblegum facets turned up a notch.

In Paloma Picasso/Paloma Mon Parfum the perfume is saturated in castoreum which might trick us into believing we're dealing more with a hardcore chypre a la Cabochard than with a "floral patchouli" as we defined it in the introduction of this primer. But the thing with perception -and the point of this primer- is that it is influenced by context. In yesteryear's milieu perfumes like Knowing or Diorella were differentiated from the more tightly clustered classic chypres. In today's comparison with the syrupy fruities or even the "nouveau chypres" they seem like the end of the hardcore spectrum. Similarly the newer contestants to the throne appear like the emperor's new clothes whereas they form the distant relative to a long line of noble lineage.

If Francis Kurkdjian and Christine Nagel (both credited with Narciso For Her; Nagel specifically also the founder of the fruitchouli with Miss Dior Cherie) created something new, like Isaac Newton they must have seen further by standing on the shoulders of giants.

Related reading on PerfumeShrine:
Perfume Primers: Chypres for Newbies
The Chypres Series: History, Landmarks, Aesthetics, Contemporary Fragrances
Perfume Primers: Aldehydic Florals for Beginners
Chanel No.19: Woody Floral or Green Chypre?

Perfume Primers: On Classifying Chanel No.19 & fragrance review

Chanel in-house perfumer Jacques Polge recounts a story surrounding the creation of No.19 and its appeal. In 1970, the 87-year-old Coco Chanel (who would die the next year) was wearing Chanel No.19 when she was stopped in the street by a young man.

“Coming out of the Ritz, I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned around to see an unknown face. I was just about to tell him off in no uncertain terms, when he said to me, with an American accent: ‘Excuse me, I am with two friends who want to know the name of your perfume.’ To be stopped in the street by a man at my age, that’s not bad, is it?”

via ebay.com

I'm lucky my significant other loves Chanel No.19 on me too!

Although the feeling exuded by Chanel No.19 aesthetically approximates the one given off chypres (i.e. inedible, perfume-y, aloof, sophisticated, the antithesis of the "blonde bombshell airhead" cliche), the famous Chanel fragrance stands as exhibit A why perfumery appreciation can't be merely a subjective, aesthetic viewpoint but in many ways forms a technical matter demanding a deeper knowledge of the nuts & bolts of its craft. No.19's building blocks are not tabula rasa; in fact they belong to pillars already covered on these pages, but they merge in such a novel way that the result is something altogether unprecedented. This composition by perfumer Henri Robert, with its hint of fresh green stems cut with scissors to fit a vase, its powdery radiance and its cypress impression with lots of woody vetiver, embodies sophistication at its best.

via australianperfumejunkies.com

At the time of creation (1970, the perfume was launched in 1971), the formula contained a superior grade of Iranian galbanum with natural bergamot, lemon and ylang ylang. The heart of No.19 is built on lots of rose (15% of the formula in the vintage edition, a significant amount of which is comprised of natural rose absolute of Rose de Mai, i.e. Rosa centifolia), even more lily of the valley (20%) together with a jasmine "footnote". Up to this point nothing unheard of. The lily of the valley segment with the rest of the florals harkens back to the structure of Madame Rochas, the green feeling is analogous to Vent Vert a "green" floral perfume with its fingerprint dose of galbanum. The small inclusion of a carnation and sweet spice (pimento) "chord" recalls the great spicy florals of which L'Air du Temps is a prototype.

Three factors however make Chanel No.19 unique and unparalleled:
1) the predominance of orris however (the essence rendered from the dried rhizome of iris flower), here elevated from the supporting player status it enjoys in most perfumes
2) the overdosage of Hedione (around 25%) which diffuses the rest of the notes and gives that odd freshness and
3) the backing up with around 12% of a woody vetiver accord.
The floral elements (really, the rose) are supported and balanced by the woody notes, guiacwood, sandalwood, cedar (in the form of cedryl acetate) and the above mentioned vetiver. The bridge between the woody materials and the orris is methyl ionone, at a significant percentage. Methyl ionone itself is a molecule used to render violet-orris notes in hundreds of perfumes.

The wonderful richness of the vintage versions (in either parfum or eau de toilette) suggest that trace materials could have been used, as well as (probably) tinctures of musk, civet and ambergris, all but eradicated in the onslaught of perfumer regulations answering to animal rights concerns and allergens restrictions. Today's eau de toilette is boosting its vetiver and cedar notes over a fresher floral core, making a woody floral echoed in the denser version of the extrait de parfum, while the eau de parfum remains the rosiest of the three concentrations available. The predominance of orris means that it is an expensive formula to maintain, as natural orris price skyrocketed in the decades following No.19's creation. The main constituent of orris, the molecule irone, exists in isolation, and recent production of iris in China cut down the maturation process that orris demanded from 3-6 years to only 3 months (resulting in the Year of the Iris, a few seasons ago, when every perfume house, niche and mainstream, was issuing their own "iris perfume"). Nevertheless, the performance of the traditional natural orris is hard to emulate.

Up till this point, a clear case of a "woody floral". It is the inclusion of oakmoss and a leathery impression (rendered via isobutyl quinoline, with its sharp green fangly aspect) which complicate things and give a mossy character, recalling chypre perfumes to many perfume fans. However Chanel No.19 does NOT contain that third pillar of the true chypre, labdanum! (And certainly that would be applicable for a perfume that came out decades before the recent "nouveau chypres" which changed the territory due to technical exigencies). In fact No.19 is notable for what it does not contain as much as what it does, thanks to analytical gas chromatography work performed on it: little to no aldehydes, no synthetic musks (in the vintage version), no patchouli, no vanillin and no salicylates (more on which you can read on the link).

via ecrater.com

Its advertising image has always relied on its green character: witty, confident, a bit "sporty" even, in tweeds. "The unexpected Chanel". "The outspoken Chanel". Fronted by Christie Brinkley, Princess Mara Ruspoli, Rene Russo and other models of the time.

The comparatively small commercial appeal of Chanel No.19 -and other similarly bracing "green" fragrances- does not mean it has lost its importance in perfume lineage. A dedicated cult following has maintained its status and kept it in production. In Greece for instance, surely a very small market, Chanel No.19 has never known any shortage of availability and it enjoys pride of place on the counter at all times, contrary to many other classics, exiled on the bottom shelves of department stores. Its continuous presence (also in the sillage off women on the street) has aided a recalibration of what we consider "classy" regardless of fashions and it has influenced directly at least two perfumes: the intensely green Silences (1979) by Jacomo (which is Chanel No.19's offspring to be sure) and Beautiful by Lauder (1986). In the former the same powdery green, liquid emeralds presence is felt, with perhaps a fruity accent via cassis, while in the latter the abscence of mossy and green notes kicks it more surely into the woody floral mold.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Chanel No.19 and Heure Exquise by Goutal: A Tale of Two Sisters, Perfume Primers, Silences by Jacomo review, Iris: perfumery raw material

Perfume Primers: The Much Maligned Fruity Floral for Beginners & Beyond

With dismissive waves of the hand denoting "not another one" (there are at least 1840 of them and growing) and soured lips forming an inaudible "urgh" brought on by the sheer boredom of having to hear about the nth launch of yet another fruity floral, it's no wonder anyone seriously gnawing their teeth on perfumery is anxious to get to know other fragrance families instead; the smart chypre fragrances, the ladylike aldehydic florals, the opulent khol-eyed Orientals, even the succulent, "edible" gourmands  (a sub-genre of the oriental family sprung out of marketing) promise more than the often unfortunate effect of the mix of shampoo & hard candy scents of the average humble fruity floral on the counter... Nevertheless, to dismiss a whole genre with the blanket characterisation of "dull" and "unexciting" is akin to discouraging a cinephile from watching Blade Runner or 2001 Space Odyssey because they don't like science fiction! Though the simile clearly suffers from fruity floral fragrances rarely reaching that iconic status of significance in their respective field, one can't deny that there are indeed interesting/stimulating examples among them, which merit further exploration from the discerning perfume lover. But what makes a fruity floral, which perfume was the first fruity floral and how fruity florals ended up taking the market prisoner and dominating it?

Source: glamorousmakeup.tumblr.com via MeMD on Pinterest

Definition of a Fruity Floral Perfume & Differentiation from Citrus Scents

The citruses and Eaux de Cologne sing gayly on their trip from the Mediterranean, fetching their joie de vivre and simple ~but never simplistic~ elegance to everyone they touch. One of the oldest essences in perfumery, exactly because contrary to other fruits they do yield an abundant essential oil (hard pressed or cold pressed from the thick rind of the citrus fruit, which you can test for yourself when squeezing an orange seeing the droplets spray on your hands), hesperidia/citruses are almost a universal pleaser, thanks to their uplifting, happy, fresh and zesty character. However, exactly because citruses have been such a classical component of fragrances for centuries (with the traditional Eau de Cologne "recipe" the prominent example where they shine, but also featured in Orientals, florals and chypres) their inclusion in a blend does not a fruity floral make!

Citruses are almost a genre unto themselves (certainly as classified by Michael Edwards in his Fragrances of the World, being part of the "fresh" segment which also comprises "green" and "water" arcs), sometimes called "the citrus family". Herein are included such light and uplifting fragrances as Guerlain Eau de Cologne Imperiale (1860), Acqua di Parma Colonia (1916), D'Orsay Etiquette Bleue (1830, relaunched 2008), Dior Eau Sauvage (1966), Annick Goutal Eau d'Hadrien (1981) or cK One (1994).
The fruity floral on the other hand is a fragrance based on a floral basic skeleton with a light woody/white musk underpinning for longevity and copious amounts of fruits OTHER than hespirides for succulent accents throughout. Patently a relatively recent trend, the trope was established in the last 20 years or so. In fact the first fruity floral came out in 1993; it was Chiffon Sorbet by Escada, the first limited edition summer fragrance by the German brand, which issued a new one each summer onwards. Chiffon Sorbet was based on a passion fruit accord, but it also evoked notes of mango, ripe fig, apples, raspberries and other summery delights, thanks to analytical chemistry and various spins on the Fructone molecule. Fruits, apart from citruses, cannot be expressed or distilled, due to their high water content, and only a synthesized replication in the laboratory can offer illusions of the fruit bowl. The rise in aromachemicals was also signaling the success of the fruity notes.

The timing of Chiffon Sorbet incidentally proves just how innovative the 1990s were in terms of perfumery horizons: not only it signaled the birth of the fruity floral, but also of the "aquatics/marines" (the innovator being New West in 1990, but the trend becoming identifiable with L'Eau d'Issey in 1992) and the "gourmands" (with the launch of Angel, also in 1992).

via ebay

History of Fruity Florals: Innovators and Prototypes 

Exactly because the fruity floral perfumes are such a recent trend it makes the search for percursors or a true classic in the genre a difficult task.  Yet, the rich saturation of the fruity chypres hints at what can be considered the great grandmother of the little girls: the prune heft of Rochas Femme, the peach skin note of Guerlain's Mitsouko, the ripe melon impression in Roudnitska-authored* Diors (Diorella, Eau Fraiche) show the possibilities...Let's not forget the pineapple in Patou's 1930s Colony either! This historically important family is so delicious in its overripe fruity notes that it can almost confuse us, taking what are modern yet true "fruity chypres" (such as Deci-Delà by Ricci, or Champagne/Yvresse by Yves Saint Laurent) for fruity florals; they're not.

*I am again tempted to include Le Parfum de Thérèse (a Roudnitska-penned hymn to his wife, kept private for decades and only released by Editions des Parfums Frédéric Malle in 2000) because of the signature melon accord, but it could be argued that it is instead a proto-aquatic.

Early proto-fruity florals, with a tentative focus on the fruit but without the candied aspect or the intense freshness, include the pear-folded Petite Chérie and the blackcurrant jam notes of Eau de Charlotte, both by Annick Goutal. These are playful, innocent, childlike fragrances (indeed they were dedicated to Annick's own two daughters) that might suit certain body chemistries to a T. They're light and airy and lack the syrupy vulgarity of much of the contemporary forgettable crop. Mariella Burani's Il Bacio (1993) is an early and worthwhile fragrance which highlights the nectarous qualities of succulent fruits, but also shimmers with the sheen of a classic floriental; its texture is nuanced and never boring.

Berries are an especially pliant fruity note in perfumes; no less because a certain group of synthetic musks has a berry undertone. The classic Mûre et Musc by L'Artisan Parfumeur paved the way in as early as 1978. The passionfruit focus of Escada's own Chiffon Sorbet didn't come out of the blue either: Guerlain's Nahéma (1978) brought a saturated fruity mantle to the central rose lending sonorous timbre.

Source: Uploaded by user via Brinda on Pinterest

What Gave Wings to the Fruity Florals

I would venture the theory that the best-selling status of Lancome's Trésor (1990, a fragrance minimalistically composed by perfumer Sophia Grojsman to maximalistic effect) was the Rubicon in the rising popularity of the fruity floral in the 1990s: the lactonic density and creaminess of the apricot note allied to her favourite rose, underscored with tons of Galaxolide (a synth musk) made for a huge commercial hit. Even simple shower gels, hairsprays, shampoos and functional products lost their former "perfumey" odour profile (invariably either aldehydic soapy/powdery smelling à la Chanel No.5 or musky-deep Poison-reminiscent) ; these functional products turned into fuzzy, peachy things that sang in pop tunes in the scale of Fruit.
Dior's Poison was an interesting cultural "bridge": although built as a musky oriental with an intense tuberose heart, it also boasted a very discernible grape Kool Aid "accord" that was hard to miss; one can argue it paved the way with its mega-popularity during the 1980s. By the mid-90s the die was cast: the fruity floral was the way to go! Maybe Baby by Benefit and Exclamation! (by Grojsman herself) showed that the peachy/apricoty floral especially had legs.

Grojsman later put a spin onto plum and locust and there came Boucheron's Jaipur for women, arguably a less influential release. Prescriptives Calyx is a lasting, bracing grapefruit with helpings of mango and passionfruit to good effect. It came out much earlier, in 1986. It's also another Grojsman creation. Modern fragrances sometimes exhibit merit in the genre. Gucci II Eau de Parfum by Gucci is the modern equivalent of a decent "berry fruity" as introduced by the L'Artisan "mure": tangy berries on top, clean yet skin-friendly musk, no big sweetness, all around wearability. Raspberry and strawberry make the top note of Hot Couture by Givenchy such a playful little minx while berries are the fruity tanginess in Guerlain Insolence, modernising a classic violet floral structure.
But it took another huge best-seller, the influential Dior J'Adore, coming out in 1999 composed by Calice Becker, to cement the trend; Calyx was launched by a makeup brand with a specific demographic, Chiffon Sorbet was all too brief a launch to register at the time, Trésor was influential true, but still, it took a major luxury fashion house such as Dior to imprint it to collective memory. From then on everything was game: the contemporary Azzura (Azzaro), Be Delicious by DKNY, Pleasures Exotic (Lauder), Burberry Brit, Cacharel Amor Amor....they're countless!

Coupled with the maturing of the "gourmand" trend (fragrances inspired by edible smells, usually desserts with a sweet vanillic undercurrent), which tipped the scales to an increasingly sweet spectrum, the fruity floral became bolder & bolder in its "freshness" and increasingly sugared, reminiscent of Life Savers in various shades. Escada, the unsung "designer" innovator, seems to have excelled into producing a pleiad of limited editions to follow the discontinued Chiffon Sorbet, forever identifying the fragrance group with the mood for flip flops and sundresses. Bath & Body Works and Victoria's Secret also made the trend their bread & butter, starting at the 1990s with "single fruit" evocations in alcohol form, ultimately vulgarising the trend. Celebrity scents were the nail on the coffin of sophistication, opting for the hugely commercialised category, sealing the deal: Fruity florals were everywhere by the late-2000s; and we haven't seen the last of them! Or have we?

Charlize Theron for Dior J'Adore ~Source: bing.com via Katzenliebchen on Pinterest

Un-sung Fruity Florals: Niche and Mainstream 

Modern niche houses are understandably reluctant to offer fruity florals; it's all a matter of appealing to connoisseurs and differentiating from the mainstream. Still they can surprise us sometimes with their artistry amidst the tired genre: Breath of God  has been hailed by the most difficult critics as a quality product. Pêche Cardinal by MCDI is chokeful of peach over flowers, but the peachiness is singing in a non straining soprano. Maître Parfumeur & Gantier has Fraiche Passiflore with raspberry, peach and passionfruit giving a tropical touch to the naturally banana-faceted jasmine (and the brand had several experimental fruity mixes in their line in the 1980s). Frangipani by Ormonde Jayne takes on fruity nuances of lime and plum to compliment the naturally fruity facets of the tropical white flower that is the frangipani blossom. Patricia de Nicolai's Cococabana takes things to the tropical max: nothing less than coconut. Even all-naturals-perfumery can indulge in the joyful, playful nature of the fruity floral via illusion: Anya's Garden Riverside (later renamed River Cali) and Ayala Moriel's Altruism are such cases.

Amongst the tide of fruity florals I need to point out some that are unfaily unsung despite their exuberant mood packaged in elegant deportment: Patou's Sublime -at least- used to be a sunny, happy smell with a balanced heart of gold, leaning into chypre, something that his Sira des Indes with its gorgeous banana note is not. Birmane by Van Cleef & Arpels takes the unusual note of kumquat (an opening like the sugared bitter peel of this small fruit prepared in Corfu, Greece) and folds it in chocolaty warmth and flowers. Byblos by Byblos (1990) has a helping of strawberry and mimosa sprinkled with pepper; it's delicious and unusual, composed by Elias Ermenidis, a Greek perfumer with more briefs won under his belt than he can count. Jungle L'Eléphant by Kenzo is a rich spicy fruity floral: the cornucopia including mandarin, prune, pineapple, and mango is accented with exotic spices resulting in a very individual scent which flopped commercially; perhaps it was too much for the tastes of 1996; it could stand in any niche house's portfolio just fine nowadays. Eden by Cacharel infused fruits (pineapple, mandarin, melon) and flowers (hawthorn and mimosa) into an aquatic environment with water lily and broke new ground in 1994. Personally I especially love the unripeness of the mango in Un Jardin sur le Nil by Hermès: it gives the impression of grapefruit, such is the tanginess and elegant bitter aftertaste, though it leans into the woody more than the floral.

But the gist is, as they say, "never say never again".

Perfume Primers: Chypre Fragrances for Newbies

No other fragrance category is so shrouded in confusion and wrapped into such awe as chypres. From the pronunciation (listen to this file) to the ingredients constituting a classic chypre perfume, it all sounds too sophisticated for dummies. Or isn't it so? Chypre fragrances have an irresistible pull, making us appreciate perfumery all the more so, because they expertly hinge on both intellectual and sensual qualities. So let's make chypres easy for everyone!

The History of Chypre Perfumes in Simple Terms

Chypre means Cyprus in French, the island in the Eastern Mediterranean where the oldest perfume factory of the world was discovered in Pyrgos Mavrorachi (the name means "fortress on the black slope"  in Greek) dating to 2000BC, well before the Egyptian analogues. Cyprus has been instrumental in European history too: It has been a stronghold of Greek civilization since antiquity (the continuity of art styles and language suggests so) with a flourishing trade exchange with Egypt and later with the Roman conquerors; plus it has been the prime port of call of Eastern merchant routes between Europe and the Middle East, thanks to its strategic geopolitical position, and therefore supremely prized (and seized) by many foreign powers in the course of its millenia-long turmoiled history, starting with the Crusades and going...
But the name "chypre" (chypvra etc), apart from any geographical connotations, had travelled in aromatic stanzas throughout the Middle Ages, Renaissance and the Age of Enlightenment thanks to the vigorous commerce of the enterprising Cypriots who dabbled in a feminine product with an added scent: their famous "Cipria" powder, a cosmetic face powder -presented by various different local "houses"- which was further aromatized with the cypriot aromatic blends they had excelled at for centuries (And which, by all accounts, judging by the later specimens circulating into the 20th century, smelled not far off what we consider a chypre fragrance today!)

Source: flickr.com via June on Pinterest

The vogue for powdered wigs in western Europe in the 17th century made Cipria one of the most widely used cosmetic products and the name is still referenced in Italian to this day for cosmetic powder. Let's not forget Cyprus is the mythological birthplace of Aphrodite/Venus, so the connection with beauty & grooming rituals was there all along. What better place then to sprout forth a product appealing to women (and the men who smell them) everywhere?

Therefore Cyprus and its "Cipria" had created a solid scent tradition. It was that tradition that the legendary François Coty-a Mediterranean merchant himself, hailing from Corsica- decided to put to good use. It is neverthless a myth that the first modern "chypre" was Coty's Chypre in 1917. Contrary to popular perception, François Coty was not the first to associate the name Chypre with a particular perfume. Guerlain's Chypre de Paris preceded him by 8 years, issued in as early as 1909. Chypre d'Orsay was the next one to be introduced in 1912. We can only attribute these names to the tradition of the "Cipria" echoed in these fragrances.

However it was Coty indeed (also dabbling in cosmetics) who first realized the familiarity of the chypre aroma of the Cipria would help make a fragrance drawing inspiration from it a commercial success. Even Chypre's packaging utilized motifs of cosmetics. His Chypre really took off and became an instant hit that created traction and a vogue for such "heavy" "green" perfumes. The rest, as they say, is history.



What makes a chypre "chypre", though? 

In modern perfumery as established by Coty (and all subsequent chypres followed the scaffold he laid out) the basic structure of the chypre perfume is an harmony, an "accord", between 3 key ingredients: bergamot (a citrus fruit that grows all around the Mediterranean) - oakmoss (a tree lichen that grows on oaks mainly in the Balkans) - labdanum (a resinoid from cistus ladaniferus, or rockrose, a plant which grows in the Mediterranean basin, especially in Crete and Cyprus which was traditionally amassed off the hair of the goats that grazed on the bush). Three basic, common Mediterranean products, three Cypriot references for Chypre! Whatever other notes the sites/guides mention, those three must be in there for the fragrance at hand to qualify as a "classic chypre", a true descendant of Coty's Chypre from 1917. These "true/pure chypres" include such later perfumes as Carven Ma Griffe (1946) or E.Lauder's Knowing (1988)!

The tension between the fresh citrusy note and the pungent, earthy odor of oakmoss and of labdanum creates an aesthetic effect that is decidedly inedible (much like the masculine equivalent of fougère fragrances), denoting perfect grooming, always smelling "perfumey", polished, and often powdery. Which makes total sense given the background of the face powder it originated from! It also explains why chypres are extremely popular regardless of fashions in southern Europe as opposed to other countries.

Exactly because they smell like perfume, i.e. an add-on in no uncertain terms, they project an image of luxury, sophistication, status. They can be cerebral, cool and aloof, a The Times reader rather than chic lit browser, or they can be womanly and intimate like effluvium wafting off the boudoir, but whatever the case chypres always remain steeped in their Aphrodite-originating beauty.

[pic source: hprints.com via Sue on Pinterest]

Chypre fragrances often include patchouli and other woody notes, or animalic essences, for added intensity and mystery, while the heart of the perfume is always more or less floral. Although patchouli is ubiquitously included in chypres, it is a very common raw material for other families as well (such as the Orientals and many florals) and is therefore non conclusive as to the classification of any given fragrance ~barring very recent ones, more on which in a moment).

Because chypres are the sophisticated fragrance family par excellence it's very tempting to overreach and classify just any elegant and perfume-y fragrance in the genre!

It is especially common to confuse them with heavily woody Orientals (parfums Babani was on to something mixing the exoticism of Egypt with the chypre coolness in Chypre Egyptien back in 1923!) or with green woody florals such as Chanel No.19 (which is really a separate case, to which I will come back with a detailed breakdown.) or Silences (Jacomo), its logical godchild.


Sub-categories of Chypres

The beauty of the chypre is that it's a strict fragrance structure, but on this basic scaffolding the perfumer can add accent pieces that make the perfume lean into this or that direction. Like a basic "little black dress", you can accessorize with heels or with boots, with pearls or with chunky gold chains, with a fur stole or a colorful velvet shawl and create dazzlingly different looks.

Add green notes of grasses, herbs and green-smelling florals (such as hyacinth) and you have "green chypres" (Diorella, Givenchy III, Chanel Cristalle Eau de parfum, Shiseido Koto, E.Lauder Aliage, Jean Couturier Coriandre, Balenciaga Cialenga, Ayalitta by Ayala Moriel, the Deneuve perfume for Avon). Emphasize the woodier notes of patchouli, vetiver, pine needles and you have "woody chypres (Niki de Saint Phalle, the classic Halston by Halston, La Perla, Aromatics Elixir). Wrap everything in the succulence of ripe fruits -such as plum or peach- and you get the historically important "fruity chypres" league (Guerlain Mitsouko, Rochas Femme, the vintage Dior Diorama, Nina Ricci Deci Dela, Yves Saint Laurent Champagne/Yvresse, Amouage Jubilation 25, Ayala Moriel Autumn, Balenciaga Quadrille, Lutens Chypre Rouge).* Smother lots of discernible flowers and you get "floral chypres"(Ungaro Diva, Zibeline by Weil, Antilope by Weil, Charlie by Revlon, L'Arte de Gucci, E.Lauder Private Collection, Guerlain Parure, Tauer Une Rose Chypree, Agent Provocateur eau de parfum, DSH Parfum de Grasse, K de Krizia, Germaine Monteil Royal Secret, Armani Pour Femme "classic" by Armani, Esteban Classic Chypre). Sparkling aldehydes on top can further the claim that Caleche by Hermes is an "aldehydic chypre" (it's really poised between two categories that one, aldehydic floral and aldehydic chypre). Put the growl of a cat-in-heat via copious animal ingredients and "animalic chypres" appear (Miss Dior by Dior, Montana Parfum de Peau, Balmain Jolie Madame, Paloma Picasso).
Finally, although technically a separate family according to La Société Française des Parfumeurs (whose sub-classification I follow above as well) called "cuir"/"leather fragrances", there are a few perfumes that mingle notes reminiscent of leather goods with the general elements of a chypre, such as Chanel Cuir de Russie, Cabochard by Gres, Piguet Bandit, Caron Tabac Blond, vintage Dior Diorling.

*Although Le Parfum de Therese by Edmond Roudnitska (circulating in the F.Malle line) has fruity elements on the basic skeleton of a chypre, it has been argued that it is in fact a proto-aquatic, therefore I do not include it in this category on purpose. 

In the Michael Edwards classification system (inspired by Firmenich charts and his own consultant job in the industry), chypres fall mostly into the "mossy woods" category, as Edwards doesn't include a "chypre" family per se as per tradition dictates, but rather intersperses them between woods and orientals (and moving leather fragrances into the "dry woods" category in his 2010 edition following new studies in odor perception). It's one way of viewing things that is more accessible to the consumer.

If orientals have traditionally built on a rose floral nucleus to further create smoothness, chypres have been traditionally constructed around a white flowers core (jasmine, tuberose etc), with the all important lily of the valley "opening" the bouquet, just like uncorking a bottle of wine a few minutes prior to drinking lets the aroma develop better. Specifically the more traditional floral "core" was constructed around an impression of gardenia (Another Cypriot reference as the ripe, narcotic blossom grows well on the warm shores of the island). The classic reference for that is the original Miss Dior (from 1947), now circulating as Miss Dior L'Original.

Source: hprints.com via Perfume on Pinterest

'Modern chypres' that "don't smell like chypres"

Even though years have passed and chypres fell out of vogue in the 1990s and early 2000s, there was a renewed interest in them after Narciso for Her eau de toilette was introduced into the market in 2004 (launched as a youthful chypre) and became a modern classic that influenced every other house. Basically these fragrances, which I call "nouveau chypres" (read more on them on this article of mine) are NOT technically chypres, but "woody floral musks" fragrances, with a "clean" non hippy-shop patchouli and vetiver base standing in for the reduced ratio of oakmoss allowed by modern industry regulations in regard to allergens (oakmoss is considered a skin sensitizer and therefore greatly reduced, which accounts for the reformulation -and thus unrecognizable state- of many classics). These include Gucci de Gucci, Lovely by SJP, Guerlain Idylle and Chypre Fatal, L'Eau de Chloe, Miss Dior Chérie, Chance by Chanel and countless others. A few however do manage to smell credible such as the underrated Private Collection Jasmine White Moss by E.Lauder; although totally modern, it doesn't betray the genre and smells like true progeny. Issey Miyake A Scent is taking the greener, airier stance of green chypres.

Although the term "chypre" nowadays means little to nothing to the modern consumer, as attested by the countless questions I receive when consulting, the industry insists on keeping it. The soft pink shade of these modern juices does make us think of the soft powdery color referenced as "cipria". Femininity, softness, cosmetics and Aphrodite rolled into a modern packaging. Or perhaps it's because chypre has at least 4000 years of history behind it...

If your interest has peaked and you want to find out more about chypre fragrances, please refer to Perfume Shrine's extensive series on Chypres:
Part 1: The origins of Chypre
Part 2: Chypre fragrance ingredients & formulae
Part 3: "Nouveau chypres" or "pink chypres" (modern chypre fragrances)
Part 4: Chypre perfume aesthetics
Part 5: Chypre perfume chronology and the zeitgeist
Part 6: Masculine Chypres: Does such a thing exist?
Part 7: The Chypres time forgot

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfume Primers for Beginners & Beyond

For those who read French, a wonderful essay on the origins of the Cypriot strain of Cipria and chypre on this and that link.  Also refer to "Aromata Cipria - Cyprus Perfumes" by. P.Flourentzos, M.R.Belgiorno, A.Lentini (dbas.sciant.unifi.it)

painting: Herbert James Draper "Pearls of Aphrodite"

Perfume Primers: Gourmand Fragrances for Beginners & Beyond

Soft Turkish delight, gleaming lollipops swirled with creamy caramel, bright red candied apples at the fun fair, the delicious creaminess of rich ganache, bittersweet anise-inflicted licorice sticks and the temptation of fine cognac-filled nuggets of chocolate...If you mentioned these aromas as springboards for composing to perfumers 30 or 40 years ago they'd laugh at you. And yet the novelty of gourmand fragrances came to stay, highlighting perfume "notes" such as chocolate, coffee, cupcakes, whiskey, sugared almond and marzipan, even cotton candy/candy floss!
But what is the definition of a gourmand perfume? Simply put "gourmand" (French: [ɡuʁmɑ̃]): perfumes smell almost "edible" and have"dessert-like" qualities that tickle our taste buds as well as our nose. In French the term only slightly overlaps with "gourmet"(connoting discernment), adding a "greedier" nuance which seems to fit; just reading a notes list of a gourmand fragrance is enough to make one salivate!
Technically as they're built on vanilla and sweet ingredients they're a subcategory of the oriental family of fragrances. Talking with perfumers however I realized their appetizing quality is markedly different from perfumes in which succulent notes -such as peach, spices or vanilla- appeared previously, in that gourmands actually evoke desserts in a more concrete way, whereas the classics only hinted at the pleasures of food & drink they were meant to accompany, via abstraction (the delicious duvet-appeal of Farnesiana's sweet acacia, the cinnamon-sprinkled peach skin of Mitsouko).

Source: cherrapeno.com via Teresa on Pinterest

In aesthetic terms gourmands are the polar opposite of the inedible feel of most chypres and fougeres whose traditional aim was to conjure grooming products such as powder, soap and shaving cream and thus denote a "polished" appearance. In contrast gourmands are not concerned with that, unless it's the polishing off a particularly tasty dish!
Comfy and delicious, their more laid-back, casual approachability (everyone eats, after all) accounts for their non-snob factor, making them a perfect fit for the end of the 1990s and the 2000s, when they flourished. Could that surge speak of misspent childhoods pampered by a sugar-riddled diet, of a regression into the protective cocoon of kindergarten, or of the desire to at least partake of the olfactory pleasures -if not the gustatory ones- afforded to people on a diet?
The too sweet stuff can be rather nauseating. Some of the Comptoir Sud Pacifique fragrances for instance seem to cater to the hardcore baked goods lovers, being particularly "foody", a looked down upon term by serious perfume lovers who opt for the more refined within the genre.

History of Gourmand genre

Angel by Thierry Mugler (1992) is generally considered the first gourmand with its overdose of ethyl maltol (the scent of cotton candy/caramel) paired with natural patchouli, plus sweet red fruits and a floral "base". Patchouli has an inherent facet that recalls chocolate, boosting the dessert angle of the Mugler pefume. But perfumer Yves de Chiris (alongside Olivier Cresp) put a staggering 30% of camphoraceous patchouli in the compound to counteract the aching sweetness of the sugar note. Its genius lies in its semi-poisonous subtext under the deliciousness: this is dangerous, dark, powerful perfume, almost masculine, reminiscent of the childish joys of the fun-fair but also of its disturbing aspects...Vera Strübi, at the time CEO of Parfums Mugler, says: ''The feminine is not our aesthetic approach.'' Strübi, having met Mugler and the Clarins Group in 1990, has been recognized as "the most audacious and creative president by the entire perfume industry"; the prototype gourmand only later took on the childhood story of Thierry's love of fun-fairs, but still it never was a marketing "recipe" which is probably why it became so successful in the end...
Molinard already had Nirmala in their catalogue since 1955, a scent that smells so close to Angel in its current form that it ignited a heated legal battle about intellectual rights in regards to perfume in France. The truth is the 1990s revamped Nirmala purposefully twisted its recipe to adhere to a more "Angelic" principle...The pioneer claim of Angel is contested nevertheless: Angel was not the first perfume to bring pure, sweet ethyl maltol into the spotlight; that distinction belongs to Vanilia (1978) by L'Artisan Parfumeur, the scent of a "vanilla ice-cone" as per aficionado supermodel Paulina Porizokva.

Still, the caramel-patchouli wildcard juxtaposition of Angel was like nothing else on the market when it came out (the same year as the limpid, totally "clean" L'Eau d'Issey!) and slowly built a cult following, eventually becoming the reference point influencing the entire market to this day (and being a marketing case study!). Angel's spawn is Gremlin-like: 20 years later every house has their "Angel wannabe" (hoping to usurp some of its share on the market): Armani Code for women, Calvin Klein Euphoria, Lancome Miracle Forever, Prada by Prada, Paco Rabanne Black XS, Nina (Nina Ricci), Chopard Wish, Hanae Mori Butterfly...the list is endless! You may see these fragrances colloquially mentioned as "fruitchoulis" in perfume fans conversation, as they all rest on sweet fruits on patchouli; the term is anecdotal.

Source: basenotes.net via Ali on Pinterest

Of all the variations on the theme, only Lolita Lempicka and Angel's own flanker Angel Innocent (and possibly Sonia Rykiel in the orange sweater bottle and Missoni by Missoni) manage to differentiate themselves enough and inject new ideas; the former through an emphasis on the anisic facets of licorice, the latter by adding a praline note and subtracting the patchouli.
Aquolina Pink Sugar (2003) is another emblematic gourmand, its name an uncontested allusion to pink cotton candy. Again based on ethyl maltol, but with less of the bittersweet edge of Angel that makes it so compelling, yet an equally love-it-or-hate-it fragrance, Pink Sugar smells like overripe strawberries melting into the candy machine.
Dior straddles the category with three of their perfumes in different measure with polarizing results: The original Addict is boozy vanillic and yet with a hint of vulgarity; Hypnotic Poison is the most accomplished in its dark, edible powdery evocation of bitter almonds & musks, whereas the original Miss Dior Cherie from 2005 (before being so messed up with) was a medley of sweet kid's strawberry syrup drizzled onto caramelized buttery popcorn that smelled as cheeky as it sounds.

Gourmands wear nicely in the cooler seasons, although lighter ones, such as Theorema (Fendi) with its orange-filled chocolate note, are fine in summer too. Especially marketable to women (perhaps because they're more mindful of calories or due to indoctrination of adage "sugar and spice and all things nice") gourmands do not exclude men. Some are specifically addressed to them, such as the delicious Lolita au Masculin by Lolita Lempicka, Rochas Man, the so called "Angel for men" A*Men by Mugler (as well as its variations) and Guerlain's L'Instant pour homme Extreme.

Niche gourmands
If the mainstream market is intent on just "copying" Angel without furthering the conversation, the niche fragrance sector seems to offer varied takes on the gourmand genre, some "dark" and sinful, others airier: Annick Goutal Eau de Charlotte, Serge Lutens Five O'Clock Au Gingembre and Arabie, Hermèssence Ambre Narguilé, Lostmarc'h Lann-Ael, Guerlain Gourmand Coquin, Spiritueuse Double Vanille, and Iris Ganache, L'Artisan Parfumeur Jour de Fete, Bois Farine, and Safran Troublant, Laura Tonatto Plaisir, Hilde Soliani Cioco Spesizissimo, Montale Chocolate Greedy, Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille, Frapin 1270, Ginestet Botytris, Parfumerie Générale Aomassai, Serendipitous by Serendipity 3, Luctor et Emergo (People of the Labyrinths), Love by Kilian,  Bond No. 9 New Haarlem, Ava Luxe Milk, Etat Libre d'Orange Like This.
Honorary mention for the loukhoum/Turkish delight fragrances, replicating the famous dessert with rosy and/or almondy notes. Notable examples include Rahat Loukhoum (Serge Lutens), Traversée du Bosphore (L'Artisan Parfumeur), Loukhoum (Keiko Mecheri), Loukoum (Ava Luxe). Although figs are certainly edible and there are many "fig scents" on the market, these are technically classified in the "woods" category, as they evoke the leaves as well as the tree sap in most cases (i.e. Philosykos, Premier Figuier, Figue Amère)

A rather recent sub-category within the gourmand orientals is the "savory gourmands", fragrances which replicate foodie smells but of a non specifically sweet persuasion. One could classify Champaca (Ormonde Jayne) with its steamed rice note in this category, Parfumerie Générale Praliné de Santal with its roasted hazelnuts, Jeux de Peau by Lutens evoking toasted bread, Jo Malone Blue Agave & Cacao, as well as the groundbreaking Womanity by Mugler pairing salty caviar and sweet figs.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfume Primers: concise intros for beginners

Perfume Primers: Orientals for Beginners (and not only)

Oriental fragrances draw upon the lore and mystery of the first perfumes used by man, full of materials derived from plants and tree resins, the thick and sacred unguents conceived and used in ancient Egypt, Greece and Cyprus, Mesopotamia and classical Rome. On the wall of the temple of Horos, at Edfu, perfumed mixes appear, among which the scared Kyphi, burnt in early morning and at evening. In Exodus God gives Moses instructions on how to compose a holy perfume for him and another one for his priests. The tear-shaped drops of the myrrh resin stand in Greek mythology for the tears of a girl transmuted into a tree by the gods. Leaning over my archeological notes, I'm never less than amazed by the wealth of scented concoctions used for sacred but also for purely hedonistic purposes by the ancients.

The invention of the "modern" oriental however is an olfactory trope of the late 19th century, made possible by the invention of two important synthetics: vanillin and coumarin. The coupling of ladbanum/cistus (a traditional resinous plant material from the rockrose, used since antiquity) and of vanillin produced what we refer to as the "amber" note. (You can read all the data on amber in perfumery on this link). Coumarin was synthesized from tonka beans; it has a sweetly herbaceous, cut hay scent.

The timing was crucial: The first oriental perfume to really capture the market was Guerlain's Shalimar although Coty's Emeraude is also a prime contenstant (In fact the two were launched in the same year, but Shalimar had a  legal battle with another firm, making the formula into a numerically-tagged bottle for the space of 4 years before relaunching with the original Sanskrit name).
The roaring 1920s were a decade when society in Europe was really taken with the orient. The East conjured up images of unbridled passion, exoticism, khol-eyed beauties and addictive substances. It was the time when Herman Hesse published Siddharta, the West's first glimpse of Buddhism, and F.Scott Fitzgerald The Great Gatsby, a paean to the newly established American prosperity and its pitfalls. Theda Bara had already lain the path to cinematic vamps to follow, such as Pola Negri and Clara Bow with her bloody-red dark cupid's lips immortalised on black and white vignettes, while Paul Poiret had produced his own phantoms of the harem paving the way to modern fashions. It was the time of Les Ballets Russes, set to music by Stravinsky and Poulenc with sets painted by Picasso and Georges Braque. In short Orient was meeting Occident at the seams.

Historically modern oriental fragrances are roughly divided in two groups in terms of their formula: those that are based on the "ambreine" accord and those based on the "mellis" accord. An "accord" is an harmonious blend of fragrant materials that are smelled together, like a musical chord, producing a seamless, unified impression, something more than the sum of their parts. It's very useful for the perfumer to have at the ready a few thought-out harmonies as a building block for the composition they're working on.

  The "ambreine accord" is a harmonious blend constructed through the juxtaposition of fresh bergamot, sweet vanillin (synthetic vanilla; ethyl vanillin which is 4 times more potent can also be used, as in Shalimar), coumarin (smelling like mown hay), and warm civet (originally an animal-derived secretion from the civet cat with a very erotic nuance), plus woody notes and rose essences. The perfumes which are constructed on this basic structure include the legendary Guerlain Shalimar, Must de Cartier and Calvin Klein Obsession.

NB. Please note the "ambreine accord" is NOT to be confused with the ambrein molecule, i.e. the chief scent element of "ambergris", the material produced by sperm whales found floating in the ocean. [Refer to this link for details on ambergris.] Interestingly enough the ambrein used in perfumery is extracted from purified labdanum [1], hence the confusion between the scents of amber and ambergris for many people.  

  The "mellis accord" on the other hand is constructed through the tension between benzyl salicylate (a compound with a faint sweet-floral-veering-into-musky scent, often included in "beach/suntan lotion" smells), patchouli (essence of exotic patchouli leaves), spicy clove (via eugenol) and lily of the valley (traditionally via the aromachemical hydroxycitronellal). This is boosted with other spices (notably cinnamon), woody notes and coumarin (a crystal derived from tonka beans).
Perfumes composed around the mellis accord include Estee Lauder Youth Dew, Taby by Dana, Yves Saint Laurent Opium, Krizia Teatro alla Scalla and Coco by Chanel. Perfume professionals refer to this group as "mellis" perfumes, but since this is difficult to communicate to the consumer, and because the eugenol (sometimes communicated as clove and sometimes as carnation) and cinnamon give a spicy tonality, these oriental perfumes are classified into a sub-genre called "spicy orientals".

To the above "accords" other elements can be added to further emphasize the exotic and warm character of the composition. These include more ambery notes (based on labdanum), sweetly balsamic notes (utilizing materials such as benzoin, opoponax and Tolu balsam) as well as castoreum (another pungent animal-derived note, this time from beavers) and rose & other flowers' (jasmine etc) essences.

These are historically important olfactory harmonies that have resulted in classics and some modern classics. The combination of two accords within the same formula or the invention of new accords coupled with the previously used ones is producing novel experiences and pushes perfumery forward. This is how perfumers have come up with new sub-categories within the oriental family of fragrances, such as the gourmand perfumes etc. But we will tackle those in an upcoming perfume primer.

Ref.
[1] New Perfume Handbook, N.Groom 1997

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Perfume Primers: concise intros for beginners

Perfume Primers: Aldehydic Florals for Beginners

Perfume Primers is a new feature on the Perfume Shrine site, intended for beginners who cannot find their way through the tangled cosmos of perfume writing in print and on the web, but also insightful enough (and hopefully written in a non-condenscending manner) to appeal to more seasoned perfume fans as well. These primers go beyond the comprehensive raw materials/perfume notes articles (linked on the right hand column of the site) or perfume terms articles (the vocabulary of the perfume language, also linked on the right hand column); they intent to highlight issues that straddle categories and skirt central themes essential for fragrance comprehension and aim to be relatively short and concise. In short, if you're new to perfume, you're advised to begin here (and possibly the various How To guides, linked on the right too) and make your way through the other features.

I begin as requested by readers' emails with a somewhat "confusing" genre, aldehydic florals, which accounts for a vast amount of perfumes on the market, not to mention numerous historical ones. Not merely an allusion to including "aldehydes" materials in the formula of said perfumes (aldehydes can appear in any fragrance family, from chypre to oriental) the trope has particularities that need addressing.

The perfume term "floral aldehydic" applies to a subcategory of the "floral" family of perfumes (perfumes with an emphasis on the olfactory impressions of flowers) whose origins go back to two acclaimed classics, both emerging in the 1920s: Chanel No.5 and Lanvin's Arpege. "Aldehydic" refers to aldehydes, of course, a large group of usually synthetically recreated ingredients with varying scents  (more on which  on this link), but what "makes" a "floral aldehydic" is the presence of a significant amount of so called aliphatic aldehydes within the formula in combination with floral, woody and animalic notes.

Those aliphatic aldehydes or "fatty aldehydes" , (i.e. the string of aldehydes C10, C11 and C12, named after the number of carbon atoms contained in their molecule) present in Chanel No.5 have become "code" for this perfumery trope. They make up a staggering 1% of the formula of No.5, marking it as a milestone in modern perfumery. Issued in the 1920s, the era of modernism in the arts, this is the reason why they're classified as "modern style fragrances" in some taxonomies, after the Chanel pioneer. Lanvin's Arpege is invariably considered the second great example in the genre, different enough from the Chanel (woodier, creamier, softer) so as to put itself in a important historical slot.

These fragrances smell soapy, waxy, citrusy, a complex and abstract scent that we can pinpoint as decidedly "perfumey", often 'retro' in feel too, as many women of a certain age cling on to them faithfully as the scents of their prime (aldehydics were supremely popular in the 1950s and 1960s and in some part into the early to mid 1970s). Simply put, aldehydic florals smell unmistakably like one has put perfume on, rather than smelling of one's own "scent" (what is colloquially refered to as "skin scents"). They're supremely "manufactured", man-made in feel and therefore can be interpreted as the prime sign of "status perfume-wearing", signage for affording to buy and wear a luxury product; an effect purposefully sought after upon creating First by Van Cleef & Arpels, "the scent of a wealthy, tasteful woman". They stand for classic elegance, a pearly opalescence, what we'd picture Audrey Hepburn or Grace Kelly wearing in their classic mid-20th century films (Audrey did in fact favor one, L'Interdit by Givenchy, originally made for her). Aldehydic florals are invariably aimed at women, although men are free to experiment if they're daring and uninhibited.

In Chanel No.5 aliphatic aldehydes are coupled with (at the time of creation) natural essence of jasmine and rose, alongside natural musk, ambergris and civet (the latter three being "animalic notes", more on which on the link). The sharpness, pike-through-the-nose effect of the aldehydes is smoothed by bergamot and ylang-ylang and sexualized by the animal-derived notes mentioned above.

Floral aldehydics make steady use of a standard triad of flowers ~rose, jasmine and lily of the valley~ while there might be lesser amounts of other flower aromas such as lilac, tuberose and carnation "notes" (the term is used in quotes as lilac and carnation are recreated through imaginative combinations and lab synthetics, the natural flowers yielding insufficient essence). The more tenacious notes perceived much later include woods (sandalwood was the #1 choice for this genre), vetiver (an exotic earthy-smelling grass with an extensive root system classified in the "woods" smells), the starch scent of orris, musks and amber. Whether there is much vanillin (i.e synthetic vanilla) or not in the formula determines a further sub-category with the genre of floral aldehydic, sweet or non-sweet.

pic via myfavoritememphispeople.com

Classic reference floral aldehydic fragrances include: Chanel No.5, Arpege by Lanvin, Chanel No.22, Worth Je Reviens, Caron Fleurs de Rocaille and Nocturnes, Lanvin My Sin, Madame Rochas, Givenchy L'Interdit, Rive Gauche (Yves Saint Laurent), Calandre (Paco Rabanne), First (Van Cleef and Arpels) and White Linen (Estee Lauder).
More aldehydic floral fragrances can be seen with links to fragrance reviews on this collective link (scroll for the list), alongside many modern aldehydic fragrance reviews found under the tab Floral Aldehydic.

It's common to hear people noticing that floral aldehydic perfumes give them an impression of soap and/or of functional products (toiletries, detergents etc) or sometimes a "powdery" feel (as in body powder). This is a cultural phenomenon, as the use of the relatively cheap aliphatic aldehydes meant that they were used in many of these products (especially bath soap) throughout the mid and late 20th century; the instability of the ingredients, alongside synthetic vanillin, wasn't too problematic in that type of functional perfumery, so their cost effectiveness and diffusion were advantages.

Floral aldehydics have also inextricably tied themselves to a French-style inclination (you can refer to the Perfume Shrine's article on "french style perfumes" for two directions on that), though they're by no means restricted to France; in fact numerous American fragrances are floral aldehydics, as it's a much beloved genre by US audiences. Last but not least, aldehydic florals are often -among some others- termed "old lady fragrances" by the general public; this fascinating and borderline disturbing cultural association is further explained in this link.