Kypre by Lancome: fragrance review & history

What do we really know about some of the vanished perfumes of yore, scattered among ruins like Grecian columns which rest on their side in huge heaps, elbowed down by the gusts of Time?
Some like the metropoleis-named Paris Paris, New York New York and Milan Milan by Madeleine Vionet, the portfolio of Soeurs Callot or Guerlain's Ai Loe and Mais Oui by Bourjois are the stuff of hushed discussions among the initiés.
Liisa Wennervirta just happened to be the proud owner of some Kypre by Lancôme, that most obscure of the perfumes tagged with the august classification of chypre; its very name closer to the Greek spelling of Κύπρος/Cyprus, the island where it all began for those. She had the good grace to inquire about it and offered to send me some for reviewing purposes, no doubt curious as to what I'd make out of it, when the strike of bad luck happened: the precarious condition of the old bottle gave in and Liisa was frantically trying to salvage remains for posterity's sake and my own benefit. In her own words "I searched and from the general lack of anything, it seems that I have the last bit of Kypre in the world. Silly and scary at the same time!" Still my tentative review and thoughts today are testament to her admirable salvaging abilities, no doubt. Discussing with Octavian he threw the idea of neoclassicism, which prompted my choice of couture to illustrate the article today. That style was manifested in the fashions of Madame Grèe and Madelaine Vionet as well as the German ideal in architecture that would culminate in Leni Riefenstahl's documentaries.



Kypre by Lancôme along with Tropiques, Tendres Nuits, Bocages, Conquest and Blue Seal were among the first fragrances created by Armand Petitjean, a true pioneer, in 1935, and the first five were sent in time for the Universal Exhibition of Brussels of the same year where they gained double medals of excellence. With one fell swoop Petitjean had established Lancôme as a force to be reckoned with! In 1900 the pre-eminent perfume houses in France had been Guerlain, Roger Gallet and L.T.Piver. By 1940, the only remaining true French perfume houses were Guerlain, Caron and Lancôme!

It was especially clever of Petitjean to choose a French name which rolled off the tongue; also to break with the minimalism of packaging that had at the time become all the rage amongst designers who had imitated the cleaner lines of Chanel or had been inspired by the Art Deco style, with baroque presentations that evoked exotic paradises in no uncertain terms. Georges Delhomme, serving as artistic director and flacon designer, developed the glamorous bottles and boxes which make us dream even to this day. If Lancôme nevertheless is best known today for their skincare, it's due to its founder's wise words: "The perfume is prestige, the flower in the eyelet, but the beauty products are our every day bread".

Petitjean, despite his diminutive name which means Little John, was appropriately known as "The Magnificent One" ~always intent on creating an empire. As an former Coty export broker for Latin American and ardent student of François Coty's business acumen he envisioned his own house to be as successful. Reprimanding the Coty brand for eventually sacrificing quality for volume after Coty's death, Petitjean was determined to up the ante of luxury upon founding his own establishment.

The continuation was a virtual olfactory avalance: Black Label (1936), Peut-être (Maybe) and Gardenia (both 1937), Flèches (1938), Révolte/Cuir (in 1939, and re-issued as Cuir recently) and le Faune (1942). Rejected in his offer to be Minister of Propaganda of the government of Clemenceau, Petitjean worked in the training of a battalion of women ambassadors of Lancôme. The late 1940s saw Armand industrious as ever when he produced Blue Valley, Nativity, Lavender, Marrakech, Bel Automne, and Happy, while the original Magie (a rich oriental with a core of labdanum) was issued in 1950 and the original Trésor two years later, composed by Jean Hervelin. Envol (flight) and Flèches d'Or (golden arrow) came out in 1957. Several other fragrances comprised the brand's portfolio over the years such as Qui Sait, Sikkim, Climat... (space is limited here); but Winter Festival proved to be Petitjean's last. The year was 1959 and after his wife's death and his son's decision to see if pastures were greener on the other side, embarking on maquillage, Petitjean saw the financial situation of the company becoming critical by 1961. Destitute of a successor he squandered his fortune building a plant in Chevilly-Larue. When debt caught up with him, he had no choice but to negotiate a take-over. Armand Petitjean died on 29 September of 1970 having successfully sold his brainchild to conglomerate L'Oréal.

Kypre was according to some sources his favourite creation among his pleiad of scents and smelling it in hindsight it's not difficult to see how it's easy to grow fond of. Technically a soft leathery chypre, it presents a suaveness of character that is less strident than earlier leathers such as Knize Ten and less crisp or luxurious than Cuir de Russie by Chanel. Coming one year before their famous and unfortunately baptised Revolte/Cuir, it pre-empties the idea which would materialize in the latter with more conviction and more...leather! The two versions of Kypre that were handed me, one more intense in parfum, the other in diluée form and sieved through a scarf, give me the impression of a shape-sifting fragrance that provides an interesting encore just when you thought it had performed all it had to perform. The beginning surprised me with its almost aldehydic soapy and fresh embrace, copious amounts of jasmine and rose reading as a classical bouquet. Although no notes are available I detect some sweetness of violets (methyl ionones) along with the soapy, lifting the fragrance and feminizing it. While the feel of a classical chypre is firmly anchored on the juxtaposition of bergamot to oakmoss and labdanum, in Kypre the idea is fanned out on powdery, whispered tones that cede into a sort of ambery, iris and face-powdery background. Much like a neoclassical gown Kypre retains a certain allure of something that can be still admired and worn with pleasure even decades later.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Chypre series, Leather Series, Lancome fragrances and news

Grecian dress by madame Gres, via metmuseum.org. Pic of Kypre ad through Ebay. Pic of Kypre bottle and box presentation by Liisa, all rights reserved, used with permission. Kypre bottle with round flat stopper by allcollections.net

Cuir by Lancome: fragrance review and history

What possessed the dignified monsieur Petitjean, who had launched the Parfums Lancôme in the previous year, to christen his new leather scent Révolte? Armand Petitjean was no firebrand: a former importer of French products to Latin America, he had been a diplomat, mandated to persuade South American countries to support the Entente Powers (France, Russia, the UK) against the Central Powers (Germany, the Austro-Hungarian and Ottoman Empires) in WWI. Returning to civilian life, he worked with the “Napoleon of perfume”, the great François Coty. But he hadn’t agreed with Coty’s mass-market policy, and left the company, taking with him the head of the Coty studio, Georges Delhomme, and a chemist, Pierre Velon, to found his own luxury brand.
Lancôme was launched with great fanfare at the 1935 Brussels Universal Fair, with five fragrances, each meant to please different types of women on different continents: Tropiques, Tendres Nuits, Kypre, Bocages and Conquête. The scents bottled in baroque flacons designed by Delhomme in reaction to the spare, Art Deco trend – and in tune with fashion’s move towards femininity and away from the flapper era - were not a commercial success, and Petitjean soon branched out into skincare and makeup.
The next year saw the launch of Révolte. It might well have been a belated answer to Lanvin’s own leather scent, the provocatively named Scandale, but the social and political context in France was far from peaceful. 1936 was a bristling year in French politics. The civil war raged just south of the border, in Spain. The left-wing coalition Front Populaire has just gained power, and dedicated itself to easing the working class’ burdens, instating the 40-hour week and the first paid holidays (an event celebrated by Patou with Vacances), promoting the access of culture and sports for the masses. It was also the first government to give ministerial portfolios to women, who hadn’t yet been granted the right to vote.

The name Révolte, so unsuited to Armand Petitjean’s vision of luxury, didn’t last long. In 1939, it was changed to the less inflammatory Cuir, so as not to damage Lancôme’s trade with Latin American countries who were rather agitated at the time, but also, one would surmise, because France had just declared war on Germany and any reminder of further instability, even a fragrant one, was unwelcome. Also the connotations in the English language (“revolt” brought to mind “revolting”, not good marketing for a scent) might have influenced the decision…

Armand Petitjean was the “nose” of his house as well as its copywriter. He also taught the Lancôme recruits on the subject of perfumery. In the Editions Assouline’s book by Jacqueline Demornex, Lancôme, Petitjean’s classes are quoted thus on the subject of his teacher, François Coty:

“Coty was a builder. In front of his castle of Montbazon, he had built a terrace, which gave the same impression as his perfumes: clear, solid, magnificent. He didn’t conceive that a living room could be anything but round or elliptical. The galleries, he wanted wide. His perfumes were exactly conceived in this way.”

It is thus the great heritage of the father of modern perfumery that is carried on in the first Lancôme compositions. Cuir is a new chapter in the series of reissues that saw the release of Magie, Climat, Sikkim, Sagamore, Mille et une roses and Tropiques. Calice Becker, who also re-engineered Balmain’s Vent Vert, is responsible with Pauline Zanoni for adapting M. Petitjean’s formula for contemporary noses…

This re-issue is particularly welcome as there are very few leather scents on the non-niche market, despite a slight revival (Armani Cuir Améthyste, Guerlain Cuir Beluga, Hermès Kelly Calèche (click for review). Of the classics, only Chanel Cuir de Russie has survived, if one discounts the leather chypres, which really belong to another category – leather should be one in itself. The cult classic Lanvin Scandale, composed by Arpège author André Fraysse and discontinued in 1971, would be the template, along with Chanel’s, by which any leather should be judged. The Lanvin, Chanel and Lancôme share many notes in common:

Lanvin Scandale: neroli, bergamot, mandarin, sage, Russian leather, iris, rose, ylang-ylang, incense, civet, oakmoss ,vanilla, vetiver, benzoin.

Chanel Cuir de Russie: aldehydes, orange blossom, bergamot, mandarin, clary sage; iris, jasmine, rose, ylang-ylang, cedarwood, vetiver; styrax, leather, amber, vanilla.

Lancôme Cuir: bergamot, mandarin, saffron, Jasmine, ylang-ylang, hawthorn, patchouli, Iris, birch, styrax.

The beautiful surprise of the new Cuir is its vintage feel. It may have been domesticated and toned down from the original – a necessity, given the current inaccessibility of many of the original ingredients – but it is still true, buttery, mouth-wateringly rich leather in the style of the much-regretted Lanvin Scandale.
Bergamot and mandarin give the top notes their typically Lancôme hesperidic feel, but within seconds a creamy surge of ylang-ylang lends a sweet butteriness to the blend, underscored by the slightly medicinal accents of saffron. Jasmine and hawthorn are also listed as notes, but they never stand out as soloists. The smoky birch and balsamic-tarry styrax quickly rise to the fore, underscored by a very discreet patchouli; iris cools off the base and lends its discreetly earthy tinge.
Despite sharing several notes with the Chanel, Lancôme Cuir doesn’t display its predecessor’s crisp, structured composition, lifted by Ernest Beaux’s trademark aldehydes. Cuir sinks almost immediately into a yielding, warm, almost edible caramel-tinged leather: it is like the liquid version of a time-smoothed lambskin glove, clutching a handful of exotic blossoms. A nod to contemporary tastes is given in an unlisted, caramelized note, which tends to place Lancôme Cuir in the families of gourmand scents in the drydown. At this stage, it evokes the sinuous sheath of sun-kissed skin…
Comparisons to Scandale(discontinued in 1971) are hard to draw because of the difference in concentration (eau de parfum vs. extrait) and conservation conditions, but Cuir would seem to lean more to the side of the Lanvin in its richness and animalic elegance.
One can only hope that Lanvin will follow suit and re-launch a fairly faithful adaptation of Scandale, though its recent Rumeur(click for review), lovely but much tamer than the original, doesn’t bode well…
But there can truly never be enough leather scents to this leather lover.



Special thanks to R., the generous member of the Perfume of Life forum who sent me a large sample of Cuir; as well as to Vidabo, who shared her precise and poetic analysis on the forum and helped me shape mine.

by Denyse Beaulieu, a.k.a. carmencanada

Pic on top from educationfrance5.fr

Miracle Forever by Lancome: fragrance review

What is it that makes us pick up a bottle and anoint ourselves with its jus tentatively in the first place? The inviting colour, the presentation, the name, the brand imbued in history, the luring advertising? For me and Miracle Forever it was surely the beautiful colour of the bottle. Cradled in a simple architectural glass vessel of intense rosy-tinged purple Lancôme’s latest offspring will surely catch the eye. Justifiably so.

Lancôme is no stranger to perfumery. In fact its founder Armand Petijean, a Frenchman who had been François Coty’s student, started his company in 1935. While vacationing in the French countryside, Armand Petitjean happened upon a castle ruin that intrigued him- Le château de Lancôme. Inspired by the delicate, fragrant roses which grew among the weathered stones he went on to choose the rose as the symbol of his new company because he believed rose encapsulated the feminine beauty of a woman, hoping to bring the same beauty he experienced into the lives of all women.

Or so the legend goes. There is some controversy to the issue and out of a pure journalistic and historic point of interest I set out to see if this is true. Especially as Lancôme shouldn't necessarily be written with an accent circumflex. Armand Petitjean was looking for a name that sounded typically French like Vendôme or Brantôme. It was one of his assistants that came up with the idea of "Lancosme" (in which the "s" is not pronounced) - the name of a château in the Indre region of France. This impressed Petitjean and the spelling was eventually changed. The circumflex now perched above the "o" is the one that replaced the "s", in an effort to establish the idea of French-ness to the international market and the rose became the symbol of the company, appearing on boxes and in ads ever since.

The debut of the new fangled company was orchestrated with meticulous care and precision. Not one, not two, but five exquisite fragrances were simultaneously launched at the June opening of the Universal Exhibition in Brussels in summer 1935. The scents were Tendre Nuit, Bocages, Conquete, Kypre and Tropiques. A prize followed for mr. Petitjean’s company.
With his firm now firmly in the center of attention, he went on to produce skincare and makeup with great success, coming to the US in the 50s, attaching the company’s name to prestige and luxury from France for women everywhere. The line-up would then be joined by the immaculate oriental Magie.
Nearly all the bottles for the company’s scents were created by the great artist Georges Delhomme and they are today collectors' items. The Fish-Moon bottle for the eau de cologne Cachet Bleu (1935) is especially celebrated while the bottle with the engraved jasmine in bloom could contain different fragrances. The sensually shaped amphora of Marrakech brought out in 1947 today commands astronomical prices.

Envol coming out in 1957 combines rose and jasmine, and the bottle, with its original bud-vase shaped design, is complete with a rosebud cap.
In 1969 Ô, a fresh eau de toilette full of petitgrain and lemony tones with a tenacious sandalwood base that prevents it from fleeting into thin air was introduced in a frosted bottle with designs like a 60s wallpaper. Very pop-art and it soon firmly became a favourite for many people who embraced its fresh breeze in an era ripe for revolt and change, to hell with the old. This was followed in 1987 by Ô Intense, a now defunct offering that supposedly made the cologne more in tune with the heavier atmosphere of the carnal 80s, based as it was on rose absolute, a heavy attar. The accent circumflex is again redundant, but it entered the name in an effort to consolidate the spirit of Lancôme to the comsumer’s mind, a subtle move of great cunning, copied also in Ô for Men, another discontinued item, since the original was secretly used by many discerning males anyway. The last flanker to join this line was Ô Oui ! in 1998, and this one has stayed the course, but to me it is hardly related to the original, as it is bursting with aqueous fruits, in which melon is predominant, on a base of eunuch-innocent musks and has none of the crystalline transparency of its older sister.
Meanwhile the great Sikkim was launched in 1971, a rich fragrance enriched with Bulgarian rose and jasmine combination on a base worthy of a Caron perfume. Today Sikkim is sold exclusively at the Lancôme Institute: 29, rue du Faubourg Saint Honoré - 75008 PARIS
Not to bypass the completely elegant floral chypre named Climat that aromatized the 70s with its aura of infinite grace and romance , the men’s Sagamore with the intense woody character of a bygone era or the dark oriental “parfum fourrure” (fur coat perfume, as the French call these) brilliantly baptised Magie Noire (Black magic) of deep incensy rose with disturbing amber and labdanum.

It was the year 1990 that saw the great bestseller of the brand, Trésor, a quite heavy-handed but soft, powdery, fruity composition by nose Sophia Grojsman, allying rose with peach in a formula that in fact relies mainly in 4 ingredients: Hedione (a synthetic jasmine), methyl ionone (a sweet fruity aroma), Iso E Super (a woody synthetic), and Galaxolide (a synthetic musk). The winning combination proved uber-successful to the point of asphyxia in many a european elevator during the early nineties.

The same intense fruitiness with the former -and the intentional spelling accident appearing in Ô- persisted in Poême in 1996. Fronted by the gorgeous, vulnerable looking French actress Juliette Binoche this was a mega-launch that was accompanied by verse by Baudelaire and Hugo for a fragrance that relied on an overdose of what appears to be orange blossom in clotted cassis (a fruity synthetic berry base). The sledgehammer sweetness dictates an extremely light application of this one.
The limited time window of the seasonal offering Mille et une rose to celebrate the millenium, which left hundreds of fans of its wonderful ambery rose tunes crestfallen when it got discontinued, has been recently amended by the introduction of 2001 Roses which is to be a mainstay, along with Sikkik, Climat and Magie in a Collection with limited distribution at select stores.

Miracle was added in 2000 with the face of Uma Thurman and the motto “Lancôme believes in miracles and magic” and Miracle Forever is joining the fairytale as a flanker now. Apart from the original Miracle, there is also Miracle Summer (2004 Limited edition), Miracle So Magic (2004) and Miracle Ultra Pink (2005), not to mention the male version Miracle Homme. As all these fragrances (the women’s at least) are more or less simple florals with varying degrees of depth so a woody oriental permutation was needed to clinch the deal and bring Miracle into the whirlwind of today’s taste for the sweet and patchouli-rich aromas of women’s perfumes. Of course one might argue that this segment has already been filled in Lancôme by Attraction (a not so successful attempt at an orientalised sensual perfume inspired by Angel) and the truly too recent Hypnôse (2005, another take on the gourmand patchouli orientalia of Angel).

Miracle Forever begins its fragrant journey on the weirdly spicy trip of star anise, the fragrant star-shaped fruit of Illicium anisatum, coupled with the sweetness of blackcurrant as if someone has spiked a kir royal cocktail with a pinch of a Chinese culinary aroma. The touch of the aromatic makes for an interesting beginning that is not completely out of synch with the light energising ginger accord of the original Miracle, although that one culminated in a floralncy that was less sweet and more airy.
The heart is floral with peony and white florals of which tuberose is listed, yet does not make its presence known to my nose. Instead the almond blossom which featured also in Yves Saint Laurent’s Cinema and in Kenzo Amour recently, lends a little powdery touch in alliance with the heliotrope spectrum, while the whole culminates in the rich patchouli swirls of fancy that fan out vanilla and amber in copious amounts, restrained only by a tad of cedar in the background making it last long. The overall sweetness differentiates it from the more woody, albeit similar in construction Allure Sensuelle by Chanel, making it more intense and more in your face. I think this is its greatest fault and the reason some will find it too much. If one genuinely likes the recent variations on the sweet patchouli fragrances, like Armani Code, MontBlanc Femme, Euphoria by Calvin Klein or indeed Hypnôse, Miracle Forever won’t disappoint. For the rest it is a case of a slight déjà vu.

Miracle Forever comes in an Eau de Parfum concentration in 30ml/1oz , 50ml/1.7oz and 75ml/2.5oz and the ads feature brunette beauty Shallom Harlow. It has already launched in Europe this fall, while it will launch in the US in 2007.

Pic of bottle from Perfumemart, ad for Envol courtesy of Okadi.