Parfums Weil Chunga: fragrance review & history

To understand the demise of Chunga is to realize that it is truly unmarketable in today's world: For a feminine perfume it flunks the test of being traditionally pretty or particularly becoming, demanding too much out of its wearer in both intelligence and attitude (After all it was advertised with the slogan "for women who want the world"). For a masculine (and men would be wise to try it if they can get their hands on some) it is an alien thing, being neither fresh -as is the majority of aquatic and aromatic fougeres around-, nor sexy -as are the orientalized woodies with succulent tonka and lots of sweet amber in the base. Maybe only Philip K. Dick replicas can wear Chunga by Weil right now, aside from dedicated perfumistas that is, which misses marketability points big time. But it's a shame, I can tell you that, because Chunga is a great fragrance coming from a great perfume house, the Weil fourruriers. (champions of the parfum fourrure notion)

The name comes from Micaela Flores Amaya, a Romani-born flamenco dancer known as "La Chunga" which translates as "the difficult woman"...and indeed the fragrance is somewhat "difficult" alright.
Introduced in 1977, Chunga comes in a string of great chypres with green elements and aldehydes that are elegantly assertive and resolutely determined: Chanel No.19, Lauder's Knowing, Coriandre by Jean Couturier, the first Jean Louis Scherrer fragrance. And thus lovers of the afore-mentioned perfumes are advised to seek out some Chunga for their collection.
In the print advertisements Chunga was targeting literally every woman and that included all races and all skin colors. A pioneering thought for a traditional French house! "Comme un nouvel horizon"...like a new horizon, which marked a new interest in encompassing more ethnicities in the game of perfume, reaping the benefits of feminine emancipation alongside the "black power" that emerged in the 1970s. Another set of print ads is tagged "et la fete commence" (i.e. and the celebration begins), showing a more typical couple in black tie in the midst of some dancing move, a more or less expected extension of perfume as a fashion accessory for a night out.

The olfactory structure of Chunga unfolds like a secret drawer within a drawer: The opening is aggressive, with its citric tang of bergamot and lemony tones sparkling like marble, with the particularly sharp incision of a scalpel, shiny and new and you think that it will remain arid and bitter and gloriously ingestible till the end, until the tables are turned and a second stage emerges. The base of Weil's Chunga is redolent of powdery amber, vetiver and a slightly urinous, honeyed, sweetish musky note that is quite retro; a throwback to days when bodies weren't deodorized to within an inch of their lives and hairy regions were much hairier than recent memory...on both sexes, that is.
The comparison with Weil's more popular and well-known, still-circulating-in-some-version-or-other Antilope perfume is not without its own value: Whereas Antilope is lady-like and more properly floral and feminine in the heart notes, Chunga like its name is butcher, more incisive, with elements that translate as more masculine or sharper. My own bottle is marked Parfum de Toilette, which nicely puts in it the early 1980s.

Chunga was the last fragrance issued by the house in Weil in 1977 and has since become a discontinued rarity. For those with an interest in chronicling the arc of the green, aldehydic, perfume-y chypre, it's incomparable and worth the investment.

Notes for Weil Chunga: aldehydes, bergamot, lemon, peach, clove, jasmine, lily of the valley, linden blossom, orris, ylang-ylang, amber, honey, Tonka bean, vanilla, vetiver, musk 

 pics via hprints.com, museodelparfum.com and punmiris.com

Parfums Weil Zibeline: fragrance review & Weil house history

Parfums Weil is the most characteristic example of "parfums fourrure" (fur perfumes), being the perfumery offshoot of Parisien furrier, Les Fourrures Weil (Weil Furs), established in 1927. And Zibeline alongside Weil's Antilope are among their proudest creations.

The history of the House of Weil

Furriers since 1912, well before they became purveyors of fine fragrance, the venture of the founder Alfred -and his brothers Marcel and Jacques- into perfume resulted from the direct request of a client for a fragrance suitable to fur wearing. Weil obligingly capitulated to the request and produced scents that would guarantee not to harm the fur itself, yet mask the unwelcome musty tonality that fur coats can accumulate after a while. The names are quite literal: Zibeline (sable), Ermine (hermine), Chinchila, Une Fleur pour Fourrure (A Flower for Furs)...

The very first of those, Zibeline, was an expansive floral aldehydic veering into chypre tonalities, conveived as an evocation of the oak forests and steppes of imperial Russia and appropriately named after the animal there captured: Zibeline, the highest quality in furs for its legendary silky touch, its scarcity value and light weight. 

Zibeline belonged to the original fragrant trio line-up that launched the business of Perfumes Weil. Introduced in 1928, Zibeline was comissioned by Marcel Weil and composed by Claude Fraysse assisted by his perfumer daughter, Jacqueline. (The Fraysse clan is famous for working in perfumery: His two sons, André and Hybert were to work with Lanvin and Synarome respectively and the son of André, Richard, is today head perfumer at parfums Caron).

Scent, Versions & Vintages of Weil Zibeline perfume

Zibeline was released in Eau de Toilette in 1930 but the formulations came and went with subtle differences and their history is quite interesting. First there was Zibeline, then the company issued Secret de Venus bath and body oils product line which incorporated Zibeline among their other fragrances (a line most popular in the US) while later they reverted to plain Zibeline again. The Eau versions of Secret de Venus Zibeline are lighter, with less density while the bath/body oil form approximates the spicy-musky tonalities of the Zibeline extrait de parfum, with the latter being more animalistic.

The older versions of parfum were indeed buttery and very skanky, deliciously civet-laden with the fruit and floral elements more of an afterthought and around the 1950s the batches gained an incredible spicy touch to exalt that quality. It's interesting to note that as per Joan Juliet Buck, former editor of French VOGUE, men often wore Zibeline in the 1950s!

Later versions of Zibeline from the 70s and 80s attained a more powdery orange blossom honeyness, backed up by fruit coupled with the kiss of tonka bean and sandalwood, only hinting at the muskiness that was so prevalent in previous incarnations, thus resulting in a nostalgic memento of a bygone epoch that seems tamer than it had actually been. Zibeline is old school in the best possible sense and a parfum fourrure you will be proud to wear even if your vegan proclivities wouldn't allow you so much as think of touching a real sable coat.

The aftermath for Weil

Marcel Weil's death in 1933 did not stop expanding their perfumery endeavours; they added several other perfumes: Bambou, Cassandra and Noir. The Weil family was forced out of France by Hitler, so they re-established themselves in New York from where one of the first perfumes released was Zibeline with the quite different in character chypré Antilope being issued in 1945, upon return to Paris in 1946 when they also introduced Padisha. Sadly the multiple changing of hands resulted in the languishing of the firm by the 1980s and although the brand Weil has been in ownership of Interparfums (Aroli Aromes Ligeriens) since 2002 Parfums Weil is largely unsung and long due for a resurgence.

Notes for Weil Zibeline:
Top: aldehydes, coriander, tarragon, bergamot and lemon;
middle: orris, gardenia, jasmine, ylang-ylang, lily-of-the-valley and rose;
base: honey, sandalwood, tonka bean, amber, musk, civet and vetiver.