Frequent Questions: How to Date Caron Nuit de Noel bottles

Nuit de Noël by Caron is definitely among the legends that made the name of Caron. Conceived and launched in 1922 by Ernest Daltroff, the founder of the French house and a self-taught perfumer, it includes to great aplomb that famous base (a ready made mix of ingredients that produce a specific effect) Mousse de Saxe, composed by Marie Thérèse de Laire, flanked by amber, moss, vetiver, rose, sandalwood and jasmine.[If you don't know how it smellsor its story, I suggesting first reading this Nuit de Noel review. ]
Getting a vintage bottle of this precious fragrance is akin to savouring a well-aged liqueur, full of nuance and dark corners. Trying to date bottles is a bit less of a nonchalant exercise, but here's a small guide with photos to help you through.


The original extrait de parfum of Nuit de Noël came in opaque black bottle designed by Felicie Vanpouille /Francoise Bergaud with a faceted boule cap and a box shaped like a purse in green shagreen (i.e. rawhide with a rough, granular surface, made from the skin of a shark or seal). The little golden "band" around the shoulders is meant to echo the headbands of the flappers to which it was addressed originally. There is also a green tassel hanging from the cap of the box (not depicted), further reminding of a cute clutch. There was also an outer white cardboard box, to protect the green shagreen. The interior of cardboard cap reads CARON 10 rue de la Paix Paris FRANCE. The dimensions are 4.5" high with box around 4-5/8" and tassell 5".
The presentation persisted well into the 1940s and 1950s, making it hard to discern specific vintages. Obviously older specimens bear more worn "bands" and shagreen boxes, even if totally sealed (a highly unlikely proposition anyway).


The modern presentation of Nuit de Noël since several years eschews the green shagreen and encases the art deco black bottle in the white fold-down box with the polka dots that all Caron extraits come into nowadays. Previous presentations in the intermediary years -without the shagreen box- have the white cardboard box in wider-spaced polka dots with a darker circumference.


Vintage Eau de Toilette (as well as the superb and lasting Eau de Cologne) circulated in square shouldered bottles, like the one above, with a bakelite cap. The jus was blended in the USA for the American branch of Caron Corp New York N.Y. Typically they circulated in 2oz/60ml or bigger.

In the 1980s the whole Caron line gained a more rectangular presentation with black cap in plastic and the labels took on a decorative motif for the Eau de Toilette concentration. The one for Nuit de Noël bears the design depicted above.


The modern Eau de Toilette comes in a purplish-maroon box with gold polka dots, while the flacons take on the familiar and legendary studded peppercorns design with the gold cap. The label reprises the colour scheme of the outer box.
The above is an edition that appeals to the collector spirit, although it's standard merchandise. It's the 30ml of Eau de Toilette with the outer of the bottle reprising the vintage shagreen scales (although it's not shagreen this time)
Another intermediary Eau de Toilette version circulates in the white box with the gold polka dots, but the label of the peppercorn flacon imitates the motif of the previous 1980s label, as you can see comparing the two pics.

pics via perfumeporjects, 101-clocks.info & ebay

First Look new Chanel Coco Mademoiselle ad: Keira Knightley in the Beige Catsuit

“It’s the first women’s perfume I’ve ever worn. Before that I’ve always worn men’s because [...] I want something that makes me feel, y'know, like I’m standing up straight” says Keira Knightley, spokeswoman for Coco Mademoiselle fragrance for Chanel. Liar....two times over.



Anyway, despite the discrepancy, Chanel continues the campaign with Keira this time in a beige catsuit riding a beige motorcycle in Place de la Concorde, Paris, shot on September 2010 by Joe Wright (the man who directed her previously in the commercials for Coco Mademoiselle but also in Pride & Prejudice).
Vogue TV has the interview with Keira (from which the quote above originates, alongside a further glimpse of part of the commercial which will air on March 23rd), we have the teaser below.




“Nobody said exactly what it was going to be like,” Knightley explains about the new campaign. “I knew that it was something about a motorbike, and I knew that it was going to be beige, and they said, ‘Sort of catsuit,’ and I said, ‘OK.’ It was completely unexpected. It’s a Chanel superwoman, I think.”




pics via sassiamblog.com & styleite.com

Diptyque Do Son: fragrance review

Tuberose (Polianthes tuberose): the flower of spiritual ruin, the carnal blossom, the heady mistress of the night (nishigandha or rajnigandh in India, a reader informs me), a lily plant originally native to the Americas. Do Son: a coastal resort in Vietnam that inspired Yves Coueslant, one the founders of Diptyque, to name thus their fragrance. It launched in autumn 2005 in a time frame not especially receptive to such compositions, at least in the Northern hemisphere. The two combine in an unexpected composition by perfumer Fabrice Pelegrin in Do Son, the perfume and the time is now more than ripe to reap its cooling benefits. Diptyque sounds a bit like diptych, the two-paneled painting so popular in religious art. Yves Coueslant has associations with Vietnam obviously and tuberose is used for pious rituals in that country, which begs the question why on earth we haven’t incorporated it in ours as well.

Tuberose has traditionally been seen as dangerous due to its intense odour profile, its headiness, the spin it produces in one’s head when one inhales deeply. In 19th century Victorian-era young girls were discouraged from smelling it, as it signified both voluptuousness and dangerous pleasures, in an effort to keep their “purity” from naughty thoughts. Flowers are after all the sexual organs of plants...

Do Son however could pass the test of chastity, I think. With its airy and crystalline character, it manages to smell like a diaphanous gauze draped around the body of an eastern girl with hair flowing. Like a fluted ornament by a crafted Murano technician, like the breeze of warm air on one’s face while walking in a summer garden.

Compared to other tuberose scents, the most iconic of which among perfume circles is Germaine Cellier’s classic Fracas, it is nothing like them, since most rely on the carnal aspects of tuberose and marry it with other heavy numbers such as jasmine and orange blossoms, enhancing tuberose's rubbery or creamy facets. Fracas is almost brutal in its bombshell beauty, a trait that rocketed it into the hearts of the rich and famous. Gianfranco Ferré for women, Carolina Herrera, and Blonde by Versace ( a wannabe Fracas that is actually very nice in parfum, surprisingly) are all heady seduction numbers destined for discerning women of a more mature age. Maitre Parfumeur et Gantier’s Tubéreuse is also very sweet and shares that element of opaqueness with the rest. Tubéreuse Criminelle by Serge Lutens is a completely different, unique affair.

Do Son rather shares the light playful tuberose note of L’artisan’s La Chasse aux Papillons or even Carnal Flower’s (although the latter is more exotic smelling) and weaves it through in a similarly girly formula that makes it perfect for young coquettes.

Do Son by Diptyque opens on a rather green and also slightly citrusy start of light orange blossom, to then proceed to tuberose mingled with light rose and smooth iris. Rose is an official note; however my nose which is a tad biased to all things rosy, doesn’t discern it clearly. The powderiness of iris is not especially present here either, although I can smell its earthiness and the whole remains very bright, very happy, with nary a melancholy or poignant note that iris might add. The finish off with white musk (synthetic clean musks as opposed to animalic) makes it linger seductively on the skin for some time, never intruding, just reminding you of its presence whenever the body is heated up.
There is also a little element of sourness, at least on the skin if not on blotter, that could make for some disappointment for people who usually complain about such a thing. However the solution to that problem would be to spray one’s clothes. It’s such a light number anyway, that this solution would be probably best to appreciate the fragrance’s volume and sillage.

The bottles of Diptyque perfume are always a chic, understated affair. It is obvious that those three friends who founded the company (Desmond Knox-Leet, Christiane Gautrot and Yves Coueslant), had been students at the Ecole des Beaux Arts. You know upon opening the box that you’re in the presence of unquestionable bon gout. Here the sketch of a woman in a garden pavillon is delineated on the label on the austere, rectangular bottle.

Available as Eau de Toilette from Diptyque retailers.

Notes for Diptyque Do Son: tuberose,orange blossom, rose, berries, musk.

artwork by David Graux

Byblos by Byblos: fragrance review

A proud in its weirdness creation by nose Ilias Ermenides from 1990, this fragrance is now discontinued. Why bother trace it, you might ask: I like to talk about bygones; I’m really old beyond my biological years it seems, that embellishing, idealistic reminiscence being characteristic of older people, as stated very early indeed in the work of Aristotle’s “Nicomachean Ethics”.


And yet in the world of perfume everyone does it, I’ve noticed. Nary does one read a perfume forum where people don’t say with contempt “today’s perfumes are nothing like they used to be”. That would be a logical conclusion though, wouldn’t it? How is something so elusive by nature, so fleeting, so ephemeral, so closely tied to the zeitgeist as perfume not capable of following the times? And yet, the nostalgia about perfumes we have not even smelled overwhelms us and sometimes we let ourselves believe the golden age of Saturn has bypassed us and the future is all gloom.

Byblos is named after such a Saturnian concept of bygones, the ancient city of Phoenicia which was the centre for the trade of Lebanese cedar wood to Egypt back in 3200BC. Cedar was used in perfumery even back then, although it had other practical uses as well, such as mummification. The Phoenicians were famously the inventors of the alphabet, which was later taken by the Greeks and with the addition of vowels turned into the first real alphabet in the history of the world. Pity Phoenicians only used it for commercial purposes and not literature or science. They were the Marketing majors of the ancient world it seems, not the Bachelor of Art ones.

The fragrance of Byblos by Byblos however distances itself from both the name (which is after all merely the Italian clothing company’s brand name) and the cedarwood smell. On the contrary it gives the impression of peppery/spicy fruits! The opening of peach and cassis (a synthetic berry note) is tangy with the bittersweet grapefruit and mandarin rind smell. It goes on into a dense, rich mimosa and marigold scent that floats above the raspberry, musky base. It’s as if it invites you to bite, only to find the hotness has singed your tongue. But don’t be afraid: this is no Caron Poivre; it’s rather tame for that but still interesting. The cobalt blue bottle shaped like an ancient pyxis, a ceramoplastic type of clay vessel that was used for storing unguents or jewels, is topped with a most original stopper of a golden “plate” with an open flower in light peach pink on top.
To be sampled, at least once.

Notes for Byblos by Byblos:
Top: bergamot, mandarin, black currant, grapefruit, pepper, peach
Heart: mimosa, lily-of-the-valley, lily, honeysuckle, violet and iris.
Base: red fruits, vetiver, musk, raspberry, heliotrope.

Available as Eau de Parfum online on stockists.

Guerlain La Petite Robe Noire no.2: fragrance review

Sharing the news a while ago on a second "model" of La Petite Robe Noire, a previous Guerlain fragrance that divided perfume enthusiasts, was a double-edged sword: On the one hand, one wants to like a new Guerlain, possibly because of the heritage and the luxe French factor. On the other hand, Guerlain lately have been reviving the brand in ways which have left a bitter taste in the mouth of hard-core fans, even though it garnered them new audiences and certainly a lot money in Swiss banks. La Petite Robe Noire no.2 has a problematic name to begin with, but that's not all.

Just imagine having to answer someone asking what perfume you're wearing; that affix of "2" in the end sounds fake and ridiculous to me. I realise that copyrighting names isn't easy, but if anyone could, Guerlain is the one who could recycle hundreds of names from their rich archives to spare this embarrassment. Olfactorily, La Petite Robe Noire model 2 leaves something to be desired and I can't say it has won me over, although arguably it's rather easier and less tooth-achingly fruity-sweet than the previous first installment which scared me with its insolent intrusion into my personal space when I had placed a blotter atop my book on Minoan pottery I was consulting at the time.

To its detriment La Petite Robe Noire no. 2 still features the gimauve accord (that's the marshmallow "note"), this time garlanded by orange blossom and dusted with powdery-dry notes that are oscillating between face makeup and white suede. The opening of La Petite Robe Noire model 2, clean, scrubbed and bright, is still revealing a light gourmand character with a vanillic interlay that veers into almond nuances; but it's smoother, cuter and thankfully less berry-rich than the previous effort. The cuddly quality and the dry musky suede feel are not without some charm, better expressed on a blotter or fabric than on skin (Is this also an effort to grab the consumer into the first instances of testing?).

Still, these "hip" fragrant launches, destined by their shelf placement for the connoisseur circuit of people shopping for fragrance (and Guerlain fragrance at that!) at the eponymous boutiques or the Bergdorf Goodman "corner", pose a question: Why are they becoming a central focus requiring ample time off in-house Thierry Wasser's busy schedule instead of having these powers directed at working on a smashing new mainstream release or a beautiful classy exclusive instead (like Tonka Impériale before)? Unless teenager gamines shop regularly at the above mentioned places and are cognizant of the Guerlain brand apart from their makeup line and the Terracotta range (which still drives a huge percentage of the company sales), I'm at a loss to understand the positioning of those fragrances, just like I was perplexed by the romantic thinking behind Idylle as advertised on US soil.


Apparently Sylvaine Delacourte, art director chez Guerlain, says the first La Petite Robe Noire sold well and we do know from the US launch ahead that the American audience was (oddly?) targeted mainly: The latter isn't anything new, even as far back as Chanel No.5 and Coty's bestsellers America has been the greatest luxury devouring market on the planet and justifiably a marketer's wet dream. Often they underestimate that market.
Still La Petite Robe Noire and La Petite Robe Noire 2 occupy that middle ground that is hesitant between donning a full on couture gown for special occasions or just everyday wear with hip accents for that party and end up smelling like they don't know what they're doing, raising their cocktail glass like the nouveau rich amidst family guests at a chateau in the Loire valley.

The bottle, still in the iconic inverted heart design that houses Mitsouko and L'Heure Bleue, is now reprised in dark rose and the black dress on it is strappy with a lacy hem; more like a negligee, really, but in good fun.

Notes for Guerlain La Petite Robe Noire no.2:
Head notes: Bergamot, Lemon, Galbanum
Heart notes: Orange Blossom, Marshmallow, Iris
Base notes: Leather, White Musk


bottle pic via placevendome.be