Caron Bellodgia: fragrance review & history

Much like Caron's Pour un Homme is a study in lavender, done in a simple equation style giving so much more in perceived value, so Bellodgia is Caron's study of carnations, but in all their rich depth. I am not surprised many perfume lovers like Bellodgia, even floral haters. Unlike its reputation for a soliflore (the fragrance that reproduces the scent of a single flower, carnation in this case) it's really complex and not simplistic. Loving carnations sincerely, I had to have this perfume in my collection. Carnations have a scent that is not really floral, but definitely spicy and richly intimate. Who in their right mind deemed them "humble" for offering is beyond me. That spiciness is the reason I like storks also; another not quite so chic flower with its intense skatole quota (Skatole is the predominant molecule in excrement, its name deriving from the Greek word for shit; oh well, nothing is as it appears.)

Bellodgia seems the definitive carnation scent exactly because of its spiciness and complexity of its quality essences (allegedly its top note alone comprises 100 essences, a claim I find rather hard to believe); yet it is really a somewhat orientalized spicy perfume, rich in peppery notes that give a jangling quality to begin with, then segue into carnation richness with nuances of vanilla and woods warmth, which lasts incredibly well. The current eau de toilette opens with a note of incense comparable to Caron's Nuit de Noel and Parfum Sacre. The clove tint is a living remnant of retro perfumery of the turn of the 20th century, when carnations were recreated with flower notes (ylang ylang and rose) and cloves. At the time the buoyancy of the combination that resulted in a soapy, inedible impression signified perfume, a sign of wealth and status.

 The heady, not so innocent kick of carnation is baroque-like in Bellodgia, like the sheen of brocade cloth, where every change of the light brings out hidden reflections in the fabric. Similarly, the longer this Caron perfume stays on, the more it gains in creaminess and powder facets, prone to be deemed "old lady smelling" by those consumers who dismiss by that derogative term anything that isn't reminiscent of cake batter or linen drawers. The classical turn can smell a bit dated, a fact that shouldn't deter the male of the species grabbing it in an effort to turn what can be predictable and ageing for one gender into an unexpected burst of good news for the other, if they dare. The vintage formulation of Bellodgia is perhaps guiltier in the rich powderiness and the floral impact (aka more ladylike), while the modern versions are sheeting everything in the envelope of warm skin-scent musks, but more so in eau de toilette than in eau de parfum, the latter more floral and denser overall and more lasting. It's easy to spot the difference: the latest bottles have a purple label (or are encased in the shagreen tubes that the whole line has progressed onto, this time in purple), the older ones sport a white one.
The extrait de parfum is smoother than both but the problems with sandalwood supply in later years have subtly changed its base note over the last decade.

 Created in 1927, Bellodgia was the result of the collaboration of Caron founder Ernest Daltroff and one-time dress maker Felicie Vanpouille, who lent her fashion expertise to the company's scents. Specifically it was inspired by Italy and its countryside of wild carnation fields, particularly the picturesque town of Bellagio, perched high above the incredibly beautiful Lake Como, it smells sunny yet deep. Full of classical drama? Indeed. It is perhaps its assertion and its projection that accounts with its popularity over past decades with American customers. Bellodgia is a masterful blend of floral essences, so it needs some time to be blocked and some repeated exposure for it to be really appreciated, much like a good Bordeaux. And for those who sorta like Bellodgia, but want a smooth spices carnation without the powdery floralcy? Try Caron's Tabac Blond. You'll thank me later...

  Notes for Caron Bellodgia: lily of the valley, rose, carnation, violet, jasmine, clove, musk, vanilla and sandalwood.

Worthy of a read: One woman's love affair with Bellodgia.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Caron news & fragrance reviews.
vintage ads via polyvore and  the non blonde

Caron Nuit de Noel: fragrance review

To associate the creamy, reflective and rather introspective quality of Caron's Nuit de Noël (Christmas' Eve) with the naiveté and relative innocence of a Parisian Christmas' Eve Mass is to misunderstand it. If anything, it's a scent of late November, when huge plates of seductive marrons glacés start being displayed at the Viennese Café Bräunerhof, all starchy comfort and glazed vanillic sweetness, chased away by a shot of bitter Fernet Branca after a hearty meal. I'm instantly reminded of La dame aux Camélias (1848) by Alexandre Dumas fils, where marrons glacés were the only type of confection that the courtesan Marguerite Gautier would eat. Her clients were expected to buy bags of them for her to enjoy. Personally I expect my own admirers to gift me with Caron's Nuit de Noël instead; the two are closely linked in the amount of pleasure and allure they exude.

Nuit de Noël, composed by the founder of Caron, self-taught perfumer Ernest Daltroff, in 1922, is rumored to have been suggested by his longtime partner, Félicie Wanpouille, who adored Christmas Eve and the scent of warm furs and incense.
The black Baccarat botte with the golden frieze (like a flapper's headband) is forever associated with the Roaring Twenties, but the scent itself seems at odds with its times and partly its name; even though the intensely warm scent is as pliable and soft to the touch as the softest sable, a parfum fourrure indeed (with the more innocent meaning of the two), its mood is neither one of uproar nor of traditional Christmas smells (cinnamon, spices, pine, gingerbread, incense).Many insist on wearing it at Christmas' time, none the least of which is perfume collector and connoisseur Roja Dove and fashion designer Karl Lagerfeld.

Formula and Intricasies
Caron's Nuit de Noël (1922) is a soft oriental built on an accord of rose absolu and Mousse de Saxe perfumer's base (i.e. a ready-made accord of ingredients producing a specific effect), with the addition of 25% sandalwood, jasmine, ylang ylang, lily of the valley, vetiver, amber and iris. It's prismatically constructed around 6-isobutylquinoline, a leathery molecule.
The fragrance emits a cozy, inviting scent poised between the starch of marrons and the bitterness of the iodine/leathery note (hence my Fernet Branca evocation) fading into musky woods. Indeed the famous "Mousse de Saxe accord" is comprised of geranium, licorice (created with anise), isobutyl quinoline (leather notes), iodine and vanillin (synthesized vanilla). If older Carons, especially in their superior vintage form, are characterised by a signature "Caronade", a common thread that runs through them, Nuit de Noël is a good place to start this escapade into one of the most chic and historical French perfume houses.

Less incensey than similarly oriental Parfum Sacré, less abrasive or bold than straightforward leathery En Avion or Tabac Blond, Nuit de Noël has a sheen that starts and ends on an unwavering tawny pitch. The spiced rum-licorice notes aplified by musk (a musk comparable to that in Chanel's No.5 and Bois des Iles) take on a rich saturation; the fragrance dries down to a powdery warmth redolent of the bourgeois scents of a festive evening spent outdoors.

Comparing Concentrations & Vintage vs.Modern Nuit de Noel
The modern Eau de Toilette has taken a rosier take than the one in my vintage bottle from 1970 which seems oilier and darker in mood, with a heavier dose of ylang ylang. The Nuit de Noël extrait de parfum plays more on the leathery, woody notes of the Mousse de Saxe base, lasting for a whole night till the next morning; when you wake up and smell your pillow with all the longing of a passionate lover who is already missing what he has just now savoured.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: How to Date Caron's Nuit de Noel bottles, Caron news & reviews.

Photo from Jean Renoir's film La bête humaine based on the Emile Zola novel. Photo of marrons via 365thingsthatiloveaboutfrance.blogspot.com

How the Gods trick us into hubris ~Alpona by Caron: fragrance review

I distinctly recall the first time I tested Alpona: it was the holiday season of 2006 and I had come very late to the cult, considering my perfume habit dates back to the time I was collecting minis and mixing (nay, ruining) my mother's expensive perfumes as a child. Having tested myriads of fragrances by then and having almost exhausted the Caron subject studiously and laboriously as most of them were not available to my country, with only a few sitting pretty on my skin, my nose and my sensibilities (the rose accords have to be a certain way for me to be moved) I had almost no hope of liking Alpona.
How the Gods trick us into hubris...

I had read of it described as a bitter chypre and I imagined it as very harsh and wasted a la Cabochard reformulated, one of the major disappointments of my perfume life because of the precious memories it had held for me personally.
Leafing through hefty tomes of arcane perfume lore I had come across authors describing it as fruity perfume as well and it was at that moment that I became convinced that I wouldn't like it in a million years, given my antithesis to such proclivities. Yet , the desire to test it even to formally and terminally "diss" it was persistent. I was a snob in reverse on the hunt of the elusive: Alpona had been created as extrait de parfum and those were only available through the "urns", Baccarat crystal fountains of liquid gold to be had at the Boutique Caron in Paris and New York City.

It was in a friendly exchange with a lovely lady that I had been able to procure some, opening the little bottle with trepidation not unlike the one shown by the bishop annointing France's Charles VII Dauphin upon his crowning in Reims with Clovis' Sacred Ampoule holding the Holy Oil.

And then.....I put it on! And it took only seconds for me to not only like it , but to positively love it for its peculiarity, its dry and sweet mingle, its character, its depth. Its weird grapefruit-rind note and the rich oakmoss marriage. These two elements dominate the composition. Another devotee was at that very minute approaching the Altar of Alpona, shyly skirting the edges of the marble, gingerly grasping the golden handrail, laying bouquets of piety at the Goddess' feet. And it solaced my soul that she forgave and welcomed me into the Order like a deflowered Vestal Virgin who has entered the priesthood of a secret cult.

Caron launched Alpona in 1939, in tandem with the New York Exposition, inspired by the Garden of the Hesperides. Hercules according to the Greek mythology defied the nymphs Hesperides, guardians of the garden, and stole from the Greek gods the secret of immortality, the "golden apples". Alpona was the first acclaimed fragrance to combine flowers with lemon and grapefruit inaugaurating the “Hespéridé” family. These tart citrus fruits (known as "hesperideans") give the perfume its modernity. Sun-ripened fruits basking in an orchard in the last foothills of the Alps with considerable darkness and richness underneath thanks to the inclusion of oakmoss and the infamous Mousse de Saxe base was at the mind of its creator Ernest Daltroff.
Alpona is recommended according to Caron "for immoderate indulgence by every woman who wants to get the juice out of life".

My fallacy that it would turn for the sour were dispelled by the reality of it unfolding its fruit rind swirls on skin. Alpona is actually quite sweet in the drydown, rich and full-bodied.
It has personality. Backbone!
Alpona smells like a weird holiday in the mountains, but not the snowy Alps, there is no cool snow theme here, despite the name. It's as if you are squeezing grapefruits and oranges for the morning juice, drinking it in a lichen-overgrown attic on the slopes of an autumnal mountain lodge; gorging the sunrays coming through the open window, basking in their warmth, with a little plate of candied orange and bergamot rind by your side, leafing through old textbooks of your granny who was learning Russian as a hobby. Decked in light woolies and breathing in the moist air, the trampled upon tree branches and just dead leaves, sighing with pleasure and abandonment, savouring the spicy dryness, Alpona is like discovering long-forgotten trinkets and family heirlooms in a cedar chest tucked away in the attic.

According to the official Caron site:
Notes: Lemon, Grapefruit, Bergamot, Rose, Orange, Jasmine, Orchid, Thyme, Patchouli, Myrrh, Cedar, Sandalwood, Musk, Oakmoss

I will never again say I won't like something just because. That's a promise Alpona made me give. I will sorely miss it now that they discontinuing it...
You can still get it at NYC boutique located in the Phyto Universe day spa on Lexington Avenue at West 58th Street, so take your chance while supplies last.
HOT FROM THE PRESS:
Paris Caron boutique representative refutes the rumours on discontinuation. Please note that this is not definitive and it might mean that they will keep it only in Paris or the plans are for later on.

Painting by John William Waterhouse, Diogenes