Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet: fragrance review & draw

"Sometimes he frets his instrument with the back of a kitchen knife or even a metal lipstick holder, giving it the clangy virility of the primitive country blues men".  This descriptor for Bob Dylan's style fits the newest Serge Lutens creation to a T: clangy, virile in a rugged way, disruptive, angry and unusual are all characteristics of Vitriol d'Oeillet (meaning vitriol of carnation); an uncharacteristic carnation fragrance which breaks the mould of old fashioned powdery florals of the start of the 20th century, offering a futurist angry woody floral. In Vitriol d'Oeillet Lutens alludes to carnation via intense, corosive pepper and lily and invites us to think of carnations of red, feisty under the intense sun of Provence, and at the same time of the London fog hiding a gentleman killer à la Jack the Ripper, who sports a carnation in his buttonhole.

There's something to be said about 19th century and its fixation with death & violence, a kind of violence beyond the funereal association so many people have with carnations. The ethereally romantic image of the era gets shattered when we read Honoré de Balzac for instance: Madame Cibot is a widow twice-over, when her husband Rémonencq accidentally consumes the chalice of vitriol he was intending for his wife (in Cousin Pons)...Oil of vitriol features in many a 19th novella, not just Balzac.
Two especially memorable scenes have the caustic sulphuric acid unceremoniously thrown on a face (the acid works by releasing acids from their salts, i.e.sulphides); namely in George Gissing's The Nether World (1889) and Robert Louis Stevenson's The Ebb-Tide (1894). Perhaps what inspired those writers into using vitriol in fiction scene stealers as an aussault (an aussault to injustice, poverty and degradation), as well as a metonym for realism (a late 19th century claim to the explosive!), is what inspired Lutens himself; a desire to break loose with preconceptions about how a carnation fragrance should be: pretty, prim, feminine, dainty? Vitriol d'Oeillet is nothing of the sort!
But there's something to be said about Vitriol being in tune with Moorish sensibilities too, of which Lutens has long been an accolyte. Blue vitriol is copper (Cu), green vitriol is iron (Fe), and white vitriol is zinc (Zn), all Hermetic references for the initiated. Sulphuric acid (historically known as 'oil of vitriol') was formerly prepared from green vitriol in a ritual that crossed into the alchemical. The Moors sold vitriol preparations as an antiseptic panaceia. There's this thing in Shi'ism called ta'wil, it's this idea where "you take anything back to its root significance, its original self". A cleanse going for the bone!

On the other hand, in late 19th century carnations were innocent, popular buttonhole flowers; Oscar Wilde was said to sport one and companies producing such fragrances were a dime a dozen, rendering the carnation soliflore a dominating fragrance trend of the Victorian era. The dandified character of carnation scents has persisted: from old-image Floris Malmaison to Roger &Gallet's ever popular ~but ultimately discontinued~ Blue Carnation all the way to modern-day retro Dianthus by Etro.

The opening of Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet is sharp, caustic as befits the name though not smelling of sulphur, without the dense powdery note that surrounds the rich floral heart of retro carnations such as Caron's Bellodgia. After all, clove, the main spicy component in creating a carnation accord in perfumery, is called clou de girofle in French, same as a pointy "nail". But despite the disruptive nails on a chalkboard of the opening of the new Lutens fragrance, the progression of Vitriol d'Oeillet softens gradually; much like Tubéreuse Criminelle hides a silken polished floral embrace beneath the mentholated stage fright. In Vitriol d'Oeillet's case Serge hides the heart of a lush lily inside the spicy mantle. Indeed it is more of a lily than a carnation fragrance, as per the usual interpretation of carnation in perfumery.

The spices almost strangle the lily notes under cruel fingers: black pepper, pimento, nutmeg, cayenne pepper, pink pepper with its rosy hue, paprika and clove; in Serge Noire and Louve the spices serve as a panoramic "lift" to the other notes, here they reinforce what was a hint in the flower. The woody backdrop of cedar is softening the base, but lovers of Serge's and Sheldrake's candied-fruit-compote-in-a-cedar-bowl will not find the sweet oriental they have grown to expect. Vitriol d'Oeillet is resolutely spicy, rendered in woody floral tonalities that only slightly turn powdery towards the very end.

To give perfume comparisons: If you have always found Secret Mélange, from Les Caprices du Dandy collection by Maître Parfumeur et Gantier (a fragrance which dared to mix cold spices and flowers and harmonize the accord with warm woods) quite intriguing, you have good chances of liking the jarring nature of Vitriol d'Oeillet. So might lovers of Caron's Poivre (which is vastly superior nevertheless) or of the dark, suffused imagescape of Garofano by Lorenzo Villoresi and E.Lauder's intense Spellbound. If you were looking for a classic, dense, feminine carnation floral or a minimal contemporary treatment oif the note such as in Oeillet Sauvage by L'Artisan Parfumeur, you might be scared by this violent yet diaphanous offering.

Oddly for the actual formula, since it's chartreuse liqueur which is infused with carnation petals and alchemically it is green vitriol which hides the greatest power, Vitriol d'Oeillet if of a greyish-lilac tint which looks someplace between funereal and alluringly gothic-romantic. The sillage is well-behaved, indeed subtle, perhaps because vitriol derives from the Latin vitrium, meaning glass, therefore denoting a certain transparency and lightness. Vitriol d'Oeillet is androgynous with great lasting power that seems to grow in depth, becoming a little bit sweeter and woodier as time passes.

Serge Lutens Vitriol d'Oeillet belongs to the export line, available at select stockists around the world and at the official Lutens site, 95euros for 50ml of Eau de Parfum. The limited edition engraved bottles depicted cost much more.

A generous-sized decant is available for one lucky reader. Draw is now closed, thank you!

What is it you find intriguing about the concept?

Calvin Klein Eternity (1988 original): fragrance review

Think of 1980s perfumes and think of today: See a difference? A staggering 11.7% ratio of Iso-E Super (a synthetic abstract woody note) ensures that 1988-issued Eternity by the-then-Calvin-Klein-controlled house was on the vanguard of something that would be exploited to full effect several years later. It also justfies why Eternity doesn't exactly smell like Eternity any more, as Iso-E Super concentrations have been toned down in recent perfumery restrictions.
Sophia Grojsman, the renowned perfumer behind this, is no shy violet when coming to streamlining a formula down to a few core accords & ingredients which give a pronounced effect: Tonalide and Galaxolide (both synthetic musks) are also overdosed, and her other best-selling opus, Trésor for Lancôme, contains a huge amount of Galaxolide, accounting for the phenomenal tenacity (Synthetic musks don't budge off for days on end).

Calvin Klein wanted to capture a romantic vibe after the carnal lust of Obsession and its racy advertising, forseeing the 1990s return to the cocoon and the conservative values of family. Thus an iconic fragrance of the 1990s emerged, advertised in serene scenes of a family by the sea, fronted by Chris Turlington (one of the top 5 supermodels of the era). Was the seascape kissing romantic in that it stirred the unconsious of viewers into reminding them of Deborrah Kerr and Burt Lancaster sharing a passionate salty kiss in From Here to Eternity? Possibly. But the execution was much tamer this time, all preppy and "clean", in tune with the AIDS epidemic which necessitated a (public) cleaning up of one's sexual act.
The name was inspired by the ring of the Windsors, which king Edward VIII had offered to Wallis Simpson, and which Calvin had later bought at an auction for his ~then~ wife Kelly Proctor; it stands as a token of timeless promise of love and immortality: "As long as we're together, time can't touch us" the motto went.

The characteristic peppery heart of Calvin Klein Eternity evoking carnations is dusted with powder (heliotrope, musk) and fresh notes (citrus, greens, lily of the valley), making the fragrance fit for summer or winter, as long as you use it with restraint; it's quite potent! But the overall impression is removed from individual notes: Luca Turin calls it a "loud rose" and he's absolutely right: Eternity takes peppery notes reminiscent of spicy flowers (like carnation) and sprinkles them on top of an intensely soapy rose. In short, if you expect something like the retro Bellodgia by Caron, you will be disappointed.
To really feel the rose beneath the carnation however do an experiment: Take rose-affirmed Paris by YSL (also by Grojsman) and spray one on the one hand, the other on the other. You will feel it all right! After all, rose is Grojsman's favourite flower and she manages to amplify its message in almost everything she touches creating that "cleavage" accord for which she's famous, from Trésor for Lancôme (allied with apricot), Bulgari pour Femme, Nude by Bill Blass, and Jaipur for Boucheron to uber-niche S-perfume 100% Love. "Perfumers have signatures," Mrs. Grojsman said. "You can pick up a fragrance and know who the perfumer is by the way certain ingredients are put together. I'm known for floral accords, bottoms and cleavage."
Memorably, one of the lines I best recall involving the fragrance was featured in an American film involving a gynaecologist molester: his preferred scent on his women victims was Eternity; "it smells of clean sheets" was his (valid) explanation. Creepy...



Eternity proved such a popular concept (it's a best-seller in France of all places!) and name that a legion of flankers (Eternity Moment, Eternity Purple Orchid, Eternity Rose Blush, Eternity Summer and some I might be forgetting right now) have emerged over the years, tweaking the formula to serve the zeitgeist. It's still available (and apparently selling well) in department stores under Coty Prestige.

Notes for Calvin Klein Eternity (1988 original)
Top: Freesia, leafy green accord, citrus oils (mandarin), sage, narcissus, lily
Heart: Rose, violet, lily of the valley, carnation, marigold, apricot, peach
Base: Patchouli, sandalwood, heliotrope, musk

Caron Tabac Blond: fragrance review

Tabac Blond (1919) was the opening salve of the garçonnes’ raid on gentlemen’s dressing tables. Its name evokes the “blonde” tobacco women had just started smoking in public (interestingly, Marlboros were launched as a women’s brand in 1924 with a red filter to mask lipstick traces). The fragrance was purportedly meant to blend with, and cover up, the still-shocking smell of cigarettes: smoking was still thought to be a sign of loose morals.

Despite its name, Tabac Blond is predominantly a leather scent, the first of its family to be composed for women and as such, a small but significant revolution. Though perfumery had recently started to stray from the floral bouquets thought to be the only fragrances suitable for ladies (Coty Chypre was launched in 1917), it had never ventured so far into the non-floral. Granted, there are floral notes, but apart from ylang-ylang, the clove-y piquancy of carnation and the cool powdery metallic note of iris don’t stray much from masculine territory. Amber and musk smooth down the bitter smokiness of the leather/tobacco leaf duet, providing the opulent “roundness” characteristic of classic Carons. And it is this ambery-powdery base – redolent of powdered faces and lipstick traces on perfumed cigarettes – that pulls the gender-crossing Tabac Blond back into feminine territory to the contemporary nose, despite Luca Turin’s calling it “dykey and angular and dark and totally unpresentable” in Chandler Burr’s Emperor of Scent.

Like its younger sister Habanita (1921), Tabac Blond’s rich, golden-honeyed, slightly louche sillage speaks of late, smoke-laden nights at the Bal Nègre in the arms of Cuban aristocrats or déclassé Russian émigrés, rather than exhilarating rides in fast cars driven by the new Eves…

by guest writer Carmencanada

 Notes for Caron Tabac Blond:
leather, carnation, lime blossom, iris, vetiver, ylang-ylang, cedar, patchouli, vanilla, ambergris, musk.

Editor's note on reformulation:
The current eau de toilette starts with the familiar rich, leathery, slightly carnation-floral scent, but the topnotes vanish within the hour, leaving you with the classic "vintage face powder" dry down - retro powdery vanilla and mossy notes, closer to Habanita.

Coty Imprevu: fragrance review

One of the major pitfalls that awaits a perfume enthusiast is for them to disregard valued, glamorous specimens of the past due to the merely trendy attire of the brand hosting them in the present. Coty and their Imprévu is a case in point! Miles away from the current celebuttante fruit-salads they serve now, Imprévu is a meaty course that still retains a degree of refinement; it's fine veal served with silver tableware. The delicious name, meaning "unforeseen", predisposes for a surprising impression and indeed this feminine leathery woody chypre from 1965 is unprecedented, unique and surprising in more than one way. They had it right when they advertised: "Beyond all expectations"!

The timing in which Imprévu was introduced is crucial: On the one hand the Coty house had passed through the Symplegades of both the Great Depression and World War II and emerged still resilient, if diminished in radiance. François Coty's divorced wife had a brother-in-law, Philippe Cotnareanu, who was immersed in the business. Cotnareanu changed his name to Philip Cortney and under that pseudonym took rein of the colossal portfolio. Coty and Coty International were eventually sold to Chas. Pfizer & Co. for about $26 million in 1963, thus becoming divisions in the pharmaceuticals company's consumer products group. The 1965 launch was Coty's new perfume in 25 years! Success was almost immediate: By the end of 1968 Imprévu became the leading Coty fragrance.
On the other hand, Imprévu, composed by an unsung perfumer, also came at an opportune time in the global perfume zeitgeist: A time when greener and aldehydic scents were very popular: Yves St. Laurent had launched his glorious Y in 1964, while Guy Laroche issued the green tropical Fidji in 1966. The older favourites, Chanel No.5 and Miss Dior, were still best-sellers. But the not so griffe market presented considerable competition as well: Avon was going strong with Topaze, and Fabergé with the antithetical earthy Woodhue. Imprévu was perfect for the moment!
It's an irony and a testament to the changing tastes in fashion however that rather soon the strike of gold was at an end: Emeraude, L'Origan and L'Aimant became the long-standing classics in the Coty portfolio after the 1980s, condemning Imprévu in the disgrace of being practically given away at drugstores who sold it at seriously discounted prices. The above nevertheless is no reflection on the fragrance's value whatsoever.

Imprévu (pronounced ahm-pre-VHU) by Coty is decidedly adult, like a long sip of extra dry martini when you know you really shouldn't or the deliberate "poisonous" smear of lipstick on a man's colar. It explores several themes of yore and does so with unrefuted elegance: From the aldehydic boosting of the crisp citrus (bergamot, bitter orange) opening, reminiscent of Coty's own Chypre (the latter is fresher and somewhat more piquant overall), to the mildly leathery heart, all the way down to the foresty conifers that hide beneath the abstract flowers. Like some classic fragrances in the cuir family (notably Tabac Blond by Caron) the tannic facet of leather is boosted and contrasted by the merest touch of cloves, registered to the mind as carnation. Overall fresh in that mossy way that classic chypres are fresh rather than cloying, the scent is very well-mannered despite the earthy oakmoss inclusion. What stays on the skin poised for long when the other elements have dissipated is the creamy woodiness of that drydown phase of Bois des Îles by Chanel.

Neither too woody nor leathery, nor too chypre, but striking a perfect balance between all those elements, Imprévu comes as the unexpected state of grace when you simply don't know what to choose and just need something that is truly unique and smells good at the same time. Even though marketed as a feminine, men who are adventurous wouldn't have trouble getting away with it.

Although the usual bottle in which it is presented is the one depicted here and in the ads (which show the extrait de parfum version), other styles were also circulating, notably one with a simple gold-toned cap and a simple glass flacon with gold-tone lettering or another one with a simple plastic blue cover (especially for the versions circulating in Europe)
Imprévu by Coty has been discontinued for a long time now, with no plans by the company to bring it back as per our latest communication. Occasional sighthings are made on Ebay at elevated prices.



Photos from Ebay

Mona di Orio Carnation: fragrance review

The Mona di Orio line is something like the Meet the Parents' (the Fockers that is) "inner circle of trust": You have to really give your whole before you get past the distrurbing opening to see what lies beneath. What you do past that point is up to you, but the journey there is full of apocalyptic awe and a few surprises.

Ravaged ~on an almost personal level~ by Turania, who apparently paid so little attention that they even misunderstood the very name (Carnation being the one which "blooms not in a flower bed but on a woman's cheeck"), one would have thought that the perfume's and the perfumer's fate seemed sealed to belong to the 9th circle of Dante's Inferno. Perhaps this is an eminent case of the adage "there's no such thing as bad publicity" and "say whatever you want about me as long as you spell my name right" because Mona di Orio not only sufaced victorious ~after a distribution problem~ and is referenced in a gazillion of publications, but she is also producing new perfumes and has participated to great aplomb in the recent Firenze Fragranza No.7 exhibition (Another independent perfumer, Andy Tauer was very appreciative and vocal about it, which is so graceful and so him).

Part of the initial triptych including Lux and Nuit Noire from 2006, Carnation is meant to evoke a tender embrace after a day spent in the sun and although it's a very individual scent and one that probably gets some getting used to (and no doubt some of you won't get used to it no matter what), I find myself most fascinated by its almost leathery impression, despite the description of it being a floriental. It is a par excellence musky fragrance on far drydown, both "dirty" and delicate, more than a little carnal, with mildly spicy accents on a bed of cream (provided by the floral notes). Mona dedicated it to Colette, a woman very attuned to cosmetic and fragrant preparations as well as the sensual world (Her Flower and Fruits book is a good companion).
Carnation's beauty lies in its "flaws": The initial spicy accent (resulting from the giroflée, the plant that produces cloves) is just a tad medicinal, which combined with the woodier elements and the kid's-glue-like complimentary styrax produces an arresting impression of a dentist's office nurse with the wickedly smiling face of Béatrice Dalle, her gap between front teeth an ironic exclamation mark on the artistry of said doctor.
The lasting power is very good, sillage is pleasantly there but non intruding and it should fit both sexes and most seasons (hold August).


Although Mona sat with Edmond Roudnitska, it is true that her style does not necessarily reflect the same aesthetic choices or sparseness of style. She even proclaims herself that the siren of Serge Lutens lured her into a different path of orientalia that diverted from the classic French mold, on which Roudnitska has put his final seal. Her Italian/Spanish heritage might have something to do with it. People who have met her in the flesh comment on her sparkling personality and struggling English, so it might not be so easy to translate her Damascene metamorphosis. To my mind, her imaginative Lux and of course Carnation present opposing impressions of the same coin: luminosity and crepuscular shadows, one after the other in quick succession and prove that a little exploring of her creations is highly recommended to all.

Notes for Mona di Orio Carnation:
Top: Bergamot, girofle, geranium Bourbon
Heart: ylang-ylang, violet, jasmine, precious woods
Base: musk, amber, styrax


Carnation is presented in the trademark cork-top faceted flacon of Mona di Orio's line in Eau de Parfum and is available for purchase in the US at Spafumerie: 2nd Ave. and 48th st, NYC. Tel: 212 644-9525 Email: thespa@spafumerie2.com Fax: 212 644-9529
In Europe Les Senteurs in London carries the fragrance ~as of this minute~ both in store and online, as does Aus Liebe Zum Duft.

Pics of autographed Mona di Orio Carnation bottle ©by Elena Vosnaki
Beatrice Dalle pic via nathalie-agency.blogspot.com

Scent Systems fragrances & Oeillet: fragrance review

Your perfume wafts me thither like a wind;
I see a harbour thronged with masts and sails.
Still weary from the tumult of the gales,
and with the sailor’s song that drifts to me
are mingled odours of the tamarind,
and all my soul is scent and melody. ~Charles Baudelaire

Scent Systems is a company founded by Hiram Green specialising in all-natural fragrances, which were developped by professor George Dodd. Dr.Dodd has worked as a consultant for various international companies whilst at the same time pursuing an academic career at the University of Warwick (1971-1994). He can claim fathership of the electronic nose technology, since he established the UK’s only Smell Research Group at the University of Warwick in 1971, specializing in 'firsts' to create the worlds earliest electronic noses. He also founded the Olfaction Research Group (the only smell research group in the UK) and organized the world's first conference on the Psychology of Perfumery before moving to the Highlands in 1994. There, he established Aroma Perfumes and Aromasciences in a croft at Loch Awe in Wester Ross. In 2005, Dr.Dodd developed the Scent Systems bespoke perfume service and recently developed Scent Systems first ready-to-wear perfume collection.

The floral collection includes Jasmine, Tuberose, Rose, Oeillet (carnation), Wild Violet & Tuberose.

The Scent System fragrances are quite unusual and need to be approached with some apprehension: These are not intended to be a realistic approximation of the blossom baptism they got, but rather an interpretation of the idea of the flower in a manner which I haven't been accustomed to even in natural perfumes which have been featured on these pages. It's as if they're dawning from the pages of an old botany compedium with gothic images of stamen and chalice.
All-natural perfumes usually present an approach which necessitates time on the part of the wearer, contrary to commercial perfumery which utilises attractive top notes to grab you instantly. They usually begin on a very intense, thick and pungent aroma upon first sniff, then unfolding their complexity in billows of sensations that often remain on the blotter for days and weeks on end creating desire and longing. Indeed natural perfumes often gain complexity with time, because the natural maturation process continues in their flacon, advancing like a good millesime of Chauternes. "Once you taste a fine vintage wine, you fall love with its sheer richness of sensory experience, and you notice a lack when you indulge in a cheaper version; even though you have previously enjoyed this cheaper version. The same applies to fine perfume", as George Dodd confided to Sniffapalooza Magazine. Still, these fragrances at hand present their own little challenge and they are built on a clash of opposites which like passionate people argue and make up continuously, their prominent characteristic being texture.

For me, the most interesting in the lot was Oeillet. Carnation is a flower sadly underappreciated, often associated with funerals (alongside lilies) or used as a filler in a bouquet of more flamboyant beauties to cut down on costs. Yet its peppery, spicy aroma is having more carnal and earthy intentions than the afterworld to which we assign them. In ancient Rome carnations were referred to as Jove's flower, Jove being the God of Love, while I still recall the fiery flamenco dancers in Andalusia tucking one behind their ear as they clapped their hands to a frenzy to accompany their passionate dancing. I even recall how as a small child I was transfixed by the intensely, intoxicatingly fragrant white carnations we had potted in my bedroom's balcony and how often instead of the sword-like leaves I thought I was cutting for my night-stand, I came face to face with same-hued locusts in my palm! The pale shade of the blossoms, intensely so under the hot glaring sun, seemed at odds with the scent of the multi-petalled flowers that appeared prematurely wrinkled to my eyes, like a woman who has weathered life to become who she is. When some grain of another variety landed in my jardinière and "contaminated" the white carnations coming forth with a tinge of red at the outer ridge of the petal, somehow things seemed to take their proper meaning and fall into place puzzle-like upon finish of the last remaining bit. This was how carnation should look, a red-hot ribbon on the edge of cooler white volants! Little did I know that in the language of flowers it stands for unrequited love...

I have since long scoured classic perfumes for their almost arousing, erotic effect they provide thanks to their inclusion of a carnation note. The classic treatment of carnation in French perfumery is best exemplified by Caron, in which the allied forces of eugenol and isoeugenol molecules create the dazzling clove-y note which appears in Poivre extrait and in its Eau de Cologne Poivrée equivalent Coup de Fouet. The passionate aspects are also evident in Bellodgia, a multi-nuanced rich floral of epic proportions. Another direction is the smaller facet in Nina Ricci's classic and tender L'Air de Temps, given flight thanks to an overdose of salicylates. But while in those fragrances the peppery note of carnation is coming up like a jolt to tingle the nose naughtily, here in Oeillet by Scent Systems it unfolds under a camphoraceous and acidly green joli-laide impression that reminds me of the comparable treatment that Serge Lutens and Christopher Sheldrake saved for tuberose in the agonisingly beautiful Tubereuse Criminelle. The mysterious effect is according to the perfumer due to a natural-occuring aldehyde which harmonises with the textural facets of the carnation note.
The quest for a natural carnation absolute is difficult since only a few manufacturers worlwide provide it and in some cases the crop essence is contaminated with tiny traces of some acetyl-pyrazine molecules which result in a nutty off aroma. In Oeillet George Dodd told me they source a special absolute from India, which as I attested through personal sampling, indeed unfolds differently than most carnation scents. Garlanded around it is a very spicy absolute from Basmati (another Indian and oriental scent note), the absolute oil from the ylang-ylang flower (quite different from the ordinary essential oil) and the absolute oil of rose centifoflia. The ‘heat’ aspect of oeillet is given by a blend of unusual spice oils including cardamom. The interstructural play of hot and cold is at the core of the fragrance and accounts for much of the charm of the atypical composition. The coda of the perfume is supported by an invisible warmth that melts on skin becoming cozy and soft like a soft pashmina put on chilly shoulders during an evening out in Kerala to harvest the humid night-air and its cornucopia of aromata.

Scent Systems are having a summer sale right now: "All full size bottles of our ready-to-wear floral perfume collection are reduced 20% percent for a limited time. We have also decided to extend this sale to include a reduction of 20% on our bespoke perfume gift vouchers and bespoke perfume refills. Our bespoke perfume gift vouchers have no expiry date; therefore, they can be purchased during the sale and redeemed any time in the future. Sale offer applies to online purchases from the Scent Systems website only. Sale ends June 30 2009 or until supplies last.". Click this link to claim your discount.

And a draw for our readers: Leave a comment for a full sample pack of the floral collection by Scent Systems!

Fleur de Feu by Guerlain: fragrance review of a rare vintage beauty

If you ever come in contact with volcanic earth you will discover that despite the sulphurous yellow emanations it is exceptionally fertile. Stationed as I am in the land of numerous volcanos silenced for years but always at the ready to burst forth their bituminous menace, I can better appreciate the inspiration behind Fleur de Feu by Guerlain: the fragile yet sturdy beauty of flowers that rise their head on an island volcano.
Created by Jaques Guerlain in 1948 (according to Le Portail des Antiquaires, while others attribute a 1949 date), Fleur de Feu, which means "fiery flower", was the first Guerlain perfume to celebrate the optimism felt after the end of WWII. Guerlain had only produced the legendary Dawamesk during those difficult years (in 1942 actually), so they were eager to turn a new leaf. Much like Christian Dior had written in his autobiography referring to Miss Dior ("Europe was tired of letting off bombs, all it wanted now was to let off firewords!"), the festivity and joie de vivre inherent in that primal force of nature, fire, has inspired perfumers with connotations of radiance, warmth and passion and Fleur de Feu was masterminded as Jacques Guerlain's generous gift to women.

Fleur de Feu is quite rare since it's been discontinued for decades and it's even rarer in extrait de parfum (pure parfum) which I am now going to review, but like I mentioned before a thesaurus (with the original Greek meaning of treasure-trove) of vintage Guerlain fragrances has ended in my lap inspiring me to write and appreciate the tastes of a bygone era: When women displayed a different interpretation of their feminine wiles and when sexuality was revealed in shapes that accentuated the female form.

The scent of Fleur de Feu is warm and inviting, a floral almost quasi-gourmand with the plush carnation heart that will be reprised in Atuana in 1952. It shares the rich note that appears in the scorching peppery whiplash of the admirable vintage Poivre by Caron at a time when the perfumer's base Dianthine (first devised in 1902 by Chuit & Naef -its formula now owned by Firmenich, same as with Cyclosia and Iralia) was supremely popular. After all, the original L'Origan by Coty also featured it.
Although Fleur de Feu bears the epithet of "fiery" however, the composition here smothers it with decadent flowers of which a rich jasmine and ylang ylang can be very clearly detected, as well as powdery tonalities of iris and vanilla, so characteristic of the Guerlinade accord (supposedly the base that appears like a signature in every vintage and several modern Guerlain fragrances). There seems to be a little benzoin wamth that paired with the butterscotch-like vanilla and a hint of tobacco flower (I might be hallucinating however as to the latter note) might allude to the delights of leisure at home, at a time when women were expected to be efficient homemakers with a roast in the oven and a bavaroise in the fridge, while simultaneously bursting out of their hourglass curvaceous attire. The slight shift in focus from the optimism of l'après guerre to the bombshell ideal of the 1950s can be witnessed in the retro print advertisements for Fleur de Feu: from the romanticism of the young woman holding a bouquet of flowers to the excited bust of a red-faced Maenad. The parfum concentration is seamless with little progression, a very feminine purring composition that radiates with warmth and stays poised on my skin melding with its intimate effluvium for hours on end.

The art deco ribbed bottle with a pedestral for Fleur de Feu was made by Bacarrat around 1948 (according to Roja Dove), breaking with the more rococo tradition and introducing simpler shapes. It was designed to resemble the gigantic American skyscrapers of that time, same as with Ode later on, according to Dulcinea Northon Smith's research. It's interesting to note that this was also the inspiration behind the old blue bottle of Je Reviens by Worth; such was the impact of the brave steel and glass architecture on the pulse of culture, at a time when everything seemed possible and affluence was slowly building!

In the beginning of 2008 Guerlain decided to use the copyrighted name on their makeup collections, much like they did with the lamentably discontinued Parure fragrance: Fleur de Feu nowadays denotes the '08 spring collection of eyeshadow palettes and Kiss Kiss Gloss limited editions. Which probably means that it won't be any time soon we see the re-issue of the glorious fragrance...

If you are persistent you might find some on Ebay or at least some Eau de Cologne concentration from the 50s/60s at Sarah's Perfumes or Eau de Toilette at The Perfumed Court.

Pics: Ad illustrations "Jeune femme avec bouquet de fleurs" for Guerlain's Fleur de Feu by Darcy 1949 and illustration by Darcy 1951, courtesy of Parfum de Pub and Vintage Perfume Publications respectively. Bottle pic uploaded by orchid74 on MUA, with many thanks.