Dolce & Gabbana Femme (Red Cap): fragrance review & history research

Allegedly when Domenico Dolce and Stefano Gabbana were in the search for their first foray into perfumes, they took mods developed for them and smashed them against their atelier wall to see what effect they'd produce. When a couple of them matched, elated, they exclaimed in unison "Eureka!" proclaiming Dolce & Gabbana for women their brain child. 

These Eureka moments are one too many in perfumery for them to be taken seriously. From the "accidental" drop of lots of vanillin into a bottle of Jicky (supposedly producing Shalimar) and the overdosage of aldehydes in the formula of Chanel No.5, the industry wants the public to believe that divine apocalypse is the medium in which true masterpieces are presented to the world, just like religion. Research nevertheless suggests otherwise.

The 1992 fragrance by the two Italian designers who celebrated the south of Italy and Sicily like no other before them is attributed to two perfumers from IFF: Jean-Pierre Mary and Martine Pallix. Between them, the olfactory duo have less than a dozen fragrances listed under their names, mostly from lesser olfactory prestige projects, such as Adidas.

Which begs the question: How could they have managed to strike gold so early, so surely and so lastingly? For many, nay, legions of people, Dolce & Gabbana from 1992 is still among the top aldehydic florals ever produced. I concur, and not because I lived through it. No. I knew it was good, even great, from smelling it on other women throughout the years, but Dolce & Gabbana "red cap", as it's affectionately known throughout the blogosphere and fora  (another term is Dolce & Gabbana Original), is one of those fragrances you need to own and wear frequently to truly understand just how great it is. And I only did this with 15 years in hindsight. Oh well...

Dolce & Gabbana pour femme ("red cap") feels sensuous and smooth, caressing, bold but not too attention-seeking; Its shade is elegant, not vulgar. It beckons you, like a strappy dress from the Italian fashion duo themselves.larger than life, massive almost in its plain confidence, in an Anna Magnani sort of way (an actress which the designer duo seem to love). It's bold, proud, full of oomph, of volume, and of emphasis, with lots of powerhouse florals (of which carnation is the most discernible), and a musky soapiness which makes the ginormous aldehydic introduction feel more decadent than it should be. It's soapy, but oh boy, if soapy was merely as intimate and erotic as this! It is not a fragrance for the timid, which makes it doubly bold, considering it circulated and succeeded in the 1990s, the decade of limp-wrist "waters" with lotus hints and sea algae undercurrents. A hint of apple-like marigold can't hide its exuberant nature, and both the tenacity and sillage of the original are impressive. The drydown is languorous, somnambulist, with the creamy softness of sandalwood and musks that lasts and lasts...It's round, effusive, contained, and yes, very sexy, indeed.

Case in point, its sexiness was encapsulated for eternity in a short film by Giussepe Tornatore, starring Monica Belluci and scored by Ennio Morricone. Talk about nailing it!

 

Everything Old is New Again: the Bell Jar

In recent years we have seen an endless recycling of design, ideas, DIY tricks and products that reference the past, in a spin of retromania, which started after the millennium. But even back in the 1990s it seems the adage held firm, with an otherwise iconoclastic artistic director getting inspired by the past. Not that he hadn't already been inspired in other ways, but it's striking to see the very design that he established as "his" being offered by a very mainstream brand 50 years before.

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And so my research led me to the discovery of the Shulton company bell jars, presented as a redesign of their fragrant offerings in 1944. And for none other than Old Spice, the classic reference for men, which started its illustrious history as a ...women's fragrance. Almost 50 years before the Salons de Palais Royal fragrances which were presented in bell jars by none other than Serge Lutens.
And sometimes, a few times, those bear references to an even further distant past...such as medieval manuscripts' art.

Limited edition of Serge Lutens Rousse

Further Reading on the PerfumeShrine:

Art History and Perfume Ads

Serge Lutens news & fragrance reviews

Art in Perfumery

Chanel Cristalle: fragrance review, history & comparison of concentrations

To consider Cristalle by Chanel a predominantly "fresh" scent begs the question: which version of it? Contrary to some of the previous fresh scents that dominated the 1970s like Eau de Patou, Eau Libre (YSL) or Eau de Rochas, Cristalle has circulated in two distinct variations that differ considerably.

Although only one of them is set in the 1970s, namely the eau de toilette original version, the 1990s eau de parfum edition is also popular and perhaps blurs the lines most between simple freshness and ripe enigma; if the citrus burst of the eau de toilette is a sunny but still crisp morning, then the more floral chypre leaning of the eau de parfum is late afternoon when the warmth of the sun has made everything ripen and smell moist and earthy.

The structure of Chanel Cristalle Eau de Toilette is citrusy green, almost cologne-y, with only a hint of chypre perfume  structure; more jovial, more unisex and altogether happier. The structure of the Cristalle Eau de Parfum version is more feminine, with the floral offset of jasmine and ylang ylang bringing to the fore the more romantic elements. If the former is a brainy librarian, the latter is a brainy librarian with one button undone on her blouse. As you would surmise from my description, I like and respect both, but would personally find more cause for celebration in the latter.

Cristalle is a case in point where the genius of Henri Robert is fittingly corralled to that of Jacques Polge, the two perfumers responsible for the creation of the former and the latter editions respectively.

The 1970s were all about freshness, vivacity, a new energy with the youth movement and the female emancipation. A lively citrusy green scent like Cristalle Eau de Toilette sounds totally logical and expected of the historical context. Cristalle Eau de Toilette has endured and has gained new fans over the decades exactly because it is a triumph of mind over matter. It feels tinglingly fresh, yes; it feels brainy and perfect for sharing whether you are a man or a woman. It also fits its architectural packaging to a T, perhaps more than any other perfume in the Chanel stable. It feels sleek and sparse and 100% proud of it. It also means that when you opt for it you know you're picking the freshest thing in the shop; there is nary a fresher scent on the Chanel counter now or ever. Only the galbanum throat-slicing-blade of the original Chanel No.19 could be compared for sheer chill!

But what about the Eau de Parfum version of Chanel's Cristalle?

The 1990s have gained an odd reputation in perfume lovers' minds because they mostly contributed the mega trend of the "ozonic" and "marine" fragrances, scents cutting loose with the denser and richer French and American tradition and ushering a sense of Japanese zen into personal fragrance. At the time they produced a huge chasm with everything that preceded them; and fittingly one of the first to do so was Kenzo pour Homme in 1991. Suddenly one wearing such a quiet scent seemed like someone walking in velvet slippers contrasted with a Louboutin stiletto wearer, emitting Dior Poison, marking some poor 18th century parquet floor; you instantly knew who was going to get more sympathetic smiles and friendly nods of the head and who was to be greeted with wrinkled noses. Such were the mores then; we have become loud with our scent choices again of course. But the overindulgence in quiet can become deafening in the end and this is what happened by the end of that grunge-dominated decade. Still Chanel Cristalle Eau de Parfum managed to straddle the ground between quiet and loud, producing a composition between soft flannel wool and luxurious yet rough soie sauvage which was advertised with the immortal line: "Exuberance comes of age!"

Thierry Mugler Angel: fragrance review

It's hard to bypass Angel by Thierry Mugler in the greater scheme of perfumery's historical progress, as it is truly seminal, a footprint on the path of perfumery as large as the Yeti's.
Olivier Cresp, its perfumer, is as much to credit with its innovation, as is its artistic director at Clarins (the Group that holds the licence for parfums Mugler) Vera Strubi, who envisioned the fragrance as a cult modern classic, and Jacques Courtin, president at Clarins, who insisted on developing the product first and only then seeing to its marketing plan; clearly an anomaly in contemporary perfume launching.

For Angel, Olivier Cresp and Vera Strubi sought into the identity of Thierry Mugler as a fashion brand and they came up with a fusion of childlike playfulness and iconic, haute couture boldness. On the one hand, the cotton candy and sawdust of the fun fair. On the other, the patchouli darkness of a handsome man in drag. The note of ethylmaltol which makes the cotton candy note in Angel, and which spawned like crazy, to the effect of saturating contemporary best-sellers with bucketfuls of it, was until 1992 fairly unused. Historically speaking it had been introduced in Vanilia by L'Artisan Parfumeur back when Jean Laporte directed the niche brand he founded in 1978, but its ice-cream cone girlishness was deemed too cute for proper perfumes; this was the time when perfumes roared with the bombastic spiciness of things like YSL Opium perfume and Estee Lauder Cinnabar.

Olivier Cresp took this discarded idea and flanked it with red berries, a dubious whiff of blackcurrant on top (recalling the success of The Body Shop's Dewberry) and the caramel softness of vanilla bringing out a sort of praline in the facets of natural patchouli oil.

The effect was stunning; warm and cuddly but also chocolate-y and dark, and the formula was painted blue, in mocking defiance of every possible evocation of feminine perfume, which until then was always some shade of hay or gold. Angel became le monstre sacré to dethrone Chanel No.5 in France and the rest is, as they say, history.

Monsieur Cresp, your place in the Pantheon is reserved, thank you very much.

Perfume as a Personal Story: The Historical Beginnings

The heirs of the aristocratic perfume tradition of post-Middle-Ages Europe were precursors, innovators, pioneers who helped establish modern perfumery as we came to know it, but who also carved out a path for the following of that artistic and commercial sector, drawing crowds to their boutiques and their wares in an unprecedented way. This last bit however isn't far removed from the enthralled reception that the modern niche perfume consumer bestows on today's fragrance celebrities, such as Serge Lutens, Frédéric Malle, Francis Kurkdjian or Jean Claude Ellena, to name but a few.

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A La Corbeille de Fleurs, Houbigant's boutique situated since the late 18th century in the then-uncelebrated Faubourg Saint-Honoré, helps make the spot le dernier cri among wealthy bourgeois who shop a few decades later for his trendy perfumes, such as Fougère Royale, composed by acclaimed perfumer Paul Parquet. Le Trèfle Incarnat for L.T.Piver was famously created by head Jacques Rouché and nose Pierre Aremingeat under the direction of chemist Georges Drazen of the Ecole Polytechnique; it soon became a sensation that had tongues wagging on the house that issued it.

Les Salons de Palais Royal by Serge Lutens in Paris, the abode of the Lutensian opus, can be said to be today's modern version, a Mecca of innovative compositions which changed the scenery for everyone following in their niche steps. The perfume-smelling booths at the Frédéric Malle boutiques across two continents are testament to the desire to dedicate time and energy to selecting perfume, but it is the frames with perfumers' portraits on the walls which remind us that authorship is the core of this brand who first dared make the connection between éditeur (as in Editions de Parfums) and auteur (as in cinema).

Some creators, like the Guerlains, have been immersed in the trade since they were in diapers; Pierre-François Pascal Guerlain saw to it that he created a dynasty of perfumers and perfume directors which successfully survives to our days as Guerlain. Some others however were self-made wonders. François Coty is an emblematic figure in that regard, none the less because he lent an attentive ear to the public itself; heeding their needs, their desires, their suggestions with the perspicacity that is the mark of a true genius. But he also imposed his own ideas, drawing from forgotten relics (his iconic Coty Chypre perfume drew on the ancient cypriot fragrances that had trickled into Europe in the form of cosmetics) or by offering novel suggestions (such as L'Origan, what can be argued to be the first "floriental" perfume).

His "school" taught a great many scrappy upstarts, giving them the confidence to venture where others had faltered, until Coty's own unfortunate demise which risked leaving that gigantic business headless. Luckily for Coty perfumery, 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, until 1963 when Coty and Coty International were eventually sold to Chas. Pfizer & Co. for $26 million. But it is Coty's success in the perfume world which made it possible for everyone else in the beginning of the 20th century, from Russian émigré Ernest Beaux for the fledging Chanel fashion "griffe" to Ernest Daltroff at Caron, or for Alméras who first took the creative reins chez Poiret and then composed a pleiad of 1930s fragrance masterpieces for Jean Patou.

What unites all those past greats is the vision of perfume as a personalized story, a momentous revelation: fragrances created for specific circumstances, for an occasion, a happy day, for a woman (a woman, please note, and not the woman). This approach implied a directed and directive concept, providing the public with a product on which it was not consulted first (no marketing focus groups voting on perfume!) but which didn't disregard it either. A path which assured the consumer that what was offered to them was well devised for them, a product of artistry suggestive to the powers of seduction, but also heeding to a time signpost, to cultural bearings of the time, transforming them and popularizing them into trends: a best-selling book, like La Bataille influencing the creation of Guerlain Mitsouko, a trend such as Les Ballets Russes ushering orientalia into European fashions and the arts, you name it, all influenced the creators into a fertile dialogue with their time and age.

Guerlain Apres l'Ondee: fragrance review & a bit of perfume history

Lots of scents with heliotrope pose as "almond" or "marzipan" or "powder with tonka". These are all scents with a kinship that runs deeper than initially thought of, like matryoshka dolls that peel one after the other, each one revealing a smaller version of the same idea. Après l'Ondée by Guerlain feels like the great grandmother of them all, if only judging by chronology, if not adherence to the exact formula from 1906.

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The synthesized material that is dosed into compositions that take heliotrope as a starting point is quite strong and can be an overwhelming molecule to work with if one isn't careful and discreet. One of the first major fragrances to make judicious use of it, in a light enough composition, so as to wear it inconspicuously, was Après l'Ondée by Guerlain. "Ça se porte léger" (this wears lightly) is the motto behind the concept of these Guerlain creations that aim to offer gouaches rather than oil paintings. In fact the composition was largely inspired by a former Guerlain fragrance, Voilette de Madame, which according to fragrant Guerlain lore served as the fragrance to scent a lady's veil. In those times of the cusp between the 19th and 20th century perfume worn on the skin was considered rather scandalous. It recalled les grandes horizontales, kept women of the demimonde like La Bella Otero or Marie Duplessis. Lightness was therefore a requisite for proper ladies; never mind that the subtle animalic undercurrent of Voilette de Madame is antithetical to our modern scrubbed down notion of how a perfume behaves.

I personally find Après l'Ondée a rather quiet fragrance, almost timid, with a sweetish air that is not immediately thought of as feminine (quite different than the airs that current feminines exhibit!), with lots of heliotropin to stand for cassie, which is the predominant element. Some heliotrope scents also recall cherry pie or lilac and powder, but not Après l'Ondée. Even the almond is not particularly identified as almond, it's a haze of lightly warmed, blurred, hazy notes.

The violets, like you might have read in evocations of gardens "after the shower" (the literal translation of its French name), are quite fleeting in this Guerlain scent, especially in more recent incarnations which are warmer and cuddlier than the older ones. The anisic note on the top note is also a brilliant addition (created through the use of benzylaldehyde, it would be recreated more forcibly in L'heure Bleue some years later) since it brings a chill cooling off the first spray and balances the warmer, almond paste flavor of the heliotrope in the heart.

Après l'Ondée is also rather less known than L'Heure Bleue, so even Guerlain wearers on the street might not identify it right off, which is always a good thing in my books; it would also obliterate your qualms about it being perceived as solely feminine.


Related reading on PerfumeShrine:

The Guerlain Series: perfume reviews and history of the French House
Guerlain Re-issues 4 Archived Fragrances for their Heritage Collection
Guerlain Chypre 53: an unknown photo-chypre, perfume history
The history of the Guerlinade accord and the modern Guerlinade fragrance

Carmelite Water: The Melissa Tonic that Threatened to Assassinate the Cardinal Richelieu

One day in 1635, Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu, commonly referred to as Le Cardinal Richelieu, sniffed his talisman of Eau de Melissa, and discovered a discrepancy to its scent. A refined nose, or a well familiar smell gone awry, it quickly alerted him to foul play. Apparently Le Duc d'Orleans had had the contents tampered with, as an analysis of the contents of the bottle later proved. It seems like replacing the gemstones on the queen's necklace, featured so prominently as a Richelieu plot device in the Dumas novel of The Three Musketeers, is not without its peer in real life!

The story of this evil plot of assassination through poisoned aromatic cordial is not without precedent, but it definitely prompted one of the first commercial uses of a seal of authenticity. The Carmelite nuns who had been producing Eau de Melissa under their own aegis, marketed as Carmelite Water, proceeded into sealing their products with a red wax bearing the seal of their convent.

All this story of intrigue revolved around a humble plant, the melissa, or lemongrass or citronella. Melissa officinalis, a vivacious plant in the Lamiaceae family, is also called lemon balm or piment des abeilles. Its essence can be used in a variety of ways.

You can read my entire article on Fragrantica on this link (it even includes a recipe for making your own Melissa Water)

Win an Exclusive Invitation to "The Garden of Wonders, a Journey Through Scents"

It is my great honor to be able to invite you in the latest project I have been involved in and which has occupied a lot of my time this past winter, as evidenced by the irregular posting on this blog.
The Garden of Wonders, a Journey Through Scents is a project by the Be Open Foundation a creative think tank organized in the historical Orto Botanico di Brera in Milan, within Energy for Creativity, this spring at the context of Expo 2015 in Milan, Italy. The announcement is posted on this link.

The exhibition set up is designed by famous Italian architect Ferrucio Laviani who has created a "diffused museum" where all parts will communicate with each other and with the Garden area.
The set up includes 3 major installations: The Houses of Wonders, resurrecting 8 historical perfume houses with an emphasis on the design & context of their course presented through the sensitivity of 8 art directors; A Journey Through Scents, an interactive promenade along the historical milestones of perfumery with olfactory fountains that pour replications of these "wonders" and of the main olfactory "styles", as well as a concise map of the provenance of raw materials and evolution of extraction techniques ; and A Vision in a Box which focuses on the design & packaging elements in perfumery and the various twists it can communicate in the contemporary art world.

To give you an idea:

"Piero Lissoni's idea is developed around the title Lundborg and the laboratory of a “nose”: the centre of the set up is a perfume lab sculpture made of stills, ampoules, vases with black orchids and hanging plants, chemical glasses in huge proportions so to evoke the story of the brand and the working place where  John Marlie Lundborg created his famous Violette Flor in 1860. The room is then covered with two big and light bookshelves with backlight panels to enhance the shapes of the bottles.
Lissoni explains: “The room is filled with  700 bottles in 4 different vesrions; these have all been made specifically for the exhibition taking the inspiration from the brands's most famous ones and produced just like in the old days”.
The two installations above mentioned, together with the ones by Fernando and Humberto Campana, Dimore Studio, Front, Jaime Hayon, Jean-Marie Massaud and Nendo  will be within a diffused museum created by Ferruccio Laviani.
The Garden of Wonders is inspired by the history of perfume and the history of raw materials from all over the world; each perfume represented a real and imaginary journey of goods and cultures making it an ante litteram global product. In more recent years the relationship between fragrances and the look of the packages has become more and more intense, to such an extent that it has created well-defined brand identities, some of which are still used today."

The Garden of Wonders, a Journey Through Scents
13-19 April 2015 h.10-23 (special preview during Milan Design Week)
20 April-24 May 2015 h.10-22

The contributors of The Garden of Wonders, A Journey of Scents are:
Tord Boontje, Fernando and Humberto Campana, Dimorestudio, Front, Jaime Hayon, Lissoni Associati, Jean Marie Massaud, Nendo, Gerald Ghislain, Elena Vosnaki, Werner Aisslinger, Analogia Project, Philippe Bestenheider, GamFratesi, Lucidi Pevere, Karim Mekhtigian, Mist-o, Ludovica + Roberto palomba, Victor Vasilev, and Thukral & Tagra.

Follow Be Open Foundation on Facebook. Watch the news on the news page of Be Open.

I have 10 exclusive invitations to be distributed to 10 lucky winners who will post a comment below for a draw. Winners announced tomorrow evening. 

Although I will be traveling by the end of the week on perfumed routes, there will also be another draw for a special Easter prize for 5 lucky readers shortly, so stay tuned on Perfume Shrine.

The True Story Behind the Diptyque Name

Where does such a name come from?

Time and loyalties made it familiar. But in 1961, it was nothing but a technical word for art specialists.

The diptych is a picture divided in two hinged panels of the same size. Each panel is painted inside and outside. The real subject of the diptych is depicted within the inside paintings, which interact from one panel to the other. Hence the opening of the panels discloses the topic of the diptych which can otherwise stay shut to keep solemn its religious holiness… or to hide a licentious content. The diptych was very much in vogue in the Flemish painting of the XV and XVI centuries.

So why diptyque? The name sounded obvious to the three founders when they first acquired the space of the 34 boulevard Saint-Germain to create their boutique: from outside, it consisted in two equal sized windows on each side of the entrance, one on the boulevard and the other on rue de Pontoise, as if an opened diptych. Added to the metaphor, the rarity of the name and its somewhat electric and international sounding convinced them all to go for it.

At the time, there was a nightclub just next to the boutique on rue de Pontoise named the Orpheon. When it came to close down some years later, diptyque acquired the place to gain space. Although the symmetry got broken, the name was kept.

Before it became the boutique, which has changed very little since diptyque started, the space had been a little coffee shop, an office for the swimming pool of Pontoise on the other side of the Boulevard, and also a boutique of ladies ‘lingerie.

This area of the 5th arrondissement was quite popular, modest and not trendy at all. There were many artisans’ workshops around too. Only the beautiful swimming pool of Pontoise did attract some people from outside: built in 1934 and still open today, it is classified as a historic monument. But this part of the boulevard Saint-Germain remained remote from the mythical Saint-Germain-des-Prés which still was the trendiest place to be where the Parisian intelligentsia, starting with philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre, had been mingling for years with artists from all over the world, writers, American jazzmen, stars from the music-hall, singers from the new scene of the French song, not to mention countless wannabes.

The early days of diptyque are humble: on the first floor of their boutique, three artists are creating the fabrics of their liking for their own pleasure… They invent a shop which reflects their tastes and personalities, and start to add to their own products a growing variety of original objects from other periods and other cultures, all of great craftsmanship, that they bring back from all over the world. This is another story to come… But it sure is this meticulous care for an aesthetic quality apart from the mainstream trends that will make the name of diptyque discreetly famous.

Thus runs the story...Diptyque have refurbished their brand by opening a special online magazine, called memento, which you can check out if you haven't already. Hours of fun await the perfume and arts enthusiast. 

Parfums Carven: A Story of Clever Marketing & Great Fragrances

Just after World War II ended, Carmen de Tommaso, a French-born who originally studied architecture and interior design, opened a couture house with the aid of three businessmen friends who had happened to have been war prisoners together. Ailed by her minute size, what we call 'petite" nowadays, de Tommaso had the idea to cater to women who also had a comparable figure. To inflect her brand with a more Parisian (rather than Andalusian) flair, as her base of operations was Paris, Carmen, like Charles Revson (of Revlon), substituted a letter in her name and became Mademoiselle Carven ever since.

What made for the success of this couture house, one among many starting in the mid-20th century Parisian landscape, such as Dior, Piguet, or Balmain? Simple, original ideas and the proper dose of marketing.

Please refer to this link to read my article on the History & Vintage Fragrances of the French company parfums Carven.

Ancient Fragrant Lore (part 6): Scents of the Roman Times

Like their modern day counterparts who become accustomed to the effluvium from a beloved, often recharged bottle of fragrance, the ancients were no less acclimatized to the ritual of their favorite perfume, rendering them increasingly unstirred by the fumes emanating from themselves.

Could it be that it was this function of fragrance which became the sword of Damocles over the head of L. Plancus's brother, twice consul and censor? Proscribed by the triumvirate as a political enemy to be exterminated, he was discovered in his hideout at Salerno due to the emanations of his fragrance, like a former-day Marie Antoinette stopped mid-escape by the revolutionaries. What's more, Pliny asks in a surge of luxuria condemnation, "Who wouldn't find the death of such a man a just cause?"

Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, The Roses of Heliogabalus

Thus runs my article on scents and perfumes in the Roman Empire published on Fragrantica. 
The roses, the resins, the decadent rituals, the opulent bath oils...
You can read it on this link and comment here or there if you wish.

Ancient Fragrant Lore 4: the Hellenistic Era

"A natural fragrance pervades the whole coast of Saba {i.e. South Yemen} because almost everything that excels in scent grows there unceasingly, providing a pleasure to visitors that is greater than what can be imagined or described. Along the coast balsam grows in abundance and cassia and another sort of plant which has a peculiar nature: when fresh, it's very delightful to the eye but suddenly it fades (so that the usefulness of the plant is blunted before they can send it to us). In the interior there are large, dense forests, in which tall trees grow: myrrh and frankincense, cinnamon, [date]-palm and kalamos {a reed of the genus Cymbopogon} and other such trees with similar sweet scents;"

The above excerpt from Diodorus of Sicily, fragrant with the scents of the Middle East lands, the territories that Alexander the Great conquered and hellenized, comes from my article on the fragrances and cosmetics of the Hellenistic Period which has just been published on Fragrantica.
You can read it following this link and you're welcome to comment here or there.

Ancient Fragrant Lore (part 3): Classicism

Classical civilization thrives on this dichotomy of "the Dionysian and the Apollonian," of Bacchanal chaos and Sun God rational forms, as Nietzsche would have said. Indeed the German philosopher, originally a philologist and only 28 at the time he penned the superb The Birth of Tragedy; Or: Hellenism and Pessimism, explains that it is these two clashing forces that merge to give birth to the classic world, but also those that eternally battle for control over the existence of humanity. And thus this dichotomy, as expressed by fragrant essences used, manifests itself clearly throughout Hellenic thought. […]

The Latin origin of the word perfume, fumare, i.e., to smoke, brings us to rituals involving fumigation and votive offerings. Hesiod in his Theogony stresses "May the purest incense burn on the altars, so as to obtain the favors of our gods."

Alfonso Savini, the incense burner

Indeed the very word incense in Greek (θυμίαμα) comes from the verb thuo (θύω), meaning to sacrifice, originally denoting both the fragrant smoke of the roast of sacrificed animals on the pyre rising to please the gods (the flesh was served to the congregation) and the ritual burning of precious locally harvested—such as cistus labdanum—or imported resins like myrrh and frankincense, their smoke also rising to the enjoyment of the Eternal ones. But scents had a markedly prophylactic use beside their Olympians' appeasing one. […]

In Euripides's famous Helen play, the prophylactic use of fragrant smoke is stressed. The heroine is assumed to have never sailed to Troy but to have been whisked away by the goddess Aphrodite to Egypt and to its ruler Theoclymenus, sworn to her safekeeping. News from the exiled Greek soldier Teucer, washed upon the shores of Egypt, that Menelaus never returned to Greece from Troy and is presumed dead, puts Helen in the perilous position of being available for Theoclymenus to marry. She consults the prophetess Theonoe, sister to Theoclymenus, to find out Menelaus' fate. Theonoe purifies the air of the altar by having the servants burn sulfur and resins, conjuring shadows and images to tell her of her husband's impending return.

On the other hand the philosophical treatment of olfactory excess as a sign of decadence and deviation from the path of a free civilian is palpable through the texts of the classical authors. The Athenian statesman Solon, adored by his fellow citizens for alleviating the accumulated debts of formerly free land owners that had lost their land and freedom to the greedy lending gentry (the famous seisachtheia regulation) tried to ban perfume use altogether. He considered it represented the corrupt—and ethnically dangerous—lifestyle of Persia, Greece's (and for that matter Europe's, since Greece was the critical gateway to gain passage to the continent) prominent enemy.

The article in its entirety can be read on Fragrantica.

Ancient Fragrant Lore (part 1)

In what concerns the use of perfumes and fragrant unguents or fumigation rituals the path of choice lands us firmly on the land of the Pharaohs, the Eastern Mediterranean and the progeny that follows these traditions into the more recent Arab and Florentine technological interventions that account for the first glimpses of modern perfumery. To Egypt then, for starters.

Frederick Arthur Bridgman (1847-1928) Cleopatra on the Terraces of Philae

If we all have Cleopatra and her scented barge popping into our minds, thanks to pop culture and Shakespeare, at the mere hint of Egypt in relation to fragrances, we're not to blame. Such was the identification of Egypt with perfume production from time immemorial, despite other ancient civilizations dabbling in perfume making in an equal degree, that during Julius Caesar's Roman triumphs, alabastra (aromatic essence holding vials, the term being alabastron/αλάβαστρον in Greek due to the material used to make them, i.e. alabaster) were tossed to the crowd to demonstrate his mastery over Egypt.

Please read the rest of my article on ancient fragrant practices in the milieu of the Eastern Mediterranean (including the references from the ancient writers) on this link on Fragrantica. Part 2 to follow.

Guerlain Shore's Caprice (1873): Perfume History & an Enigma

When Aimé Guerlain created an extrait de parfum for use on the silk and linen handkerchiefs of the aristocracy and bourgeoisie in 1873 little did he know that he would be creating a modern day enigma. The scent has of course disappeared from the face of the earth and any remnant purported as authentic would raise serious questions in the minds of the sane collector, but the intricacies of its historical trail capture the imagination all the same.

 The perfume Shore's Caprice began its journey as patronage for la Comtesse Emanuella Pignatelli Potocka, something not unheard of for the venerable French house in the 19th century. The countess Potocka, born Emanuela Pignatelli and a descendant of pope Innocent XII, appears as a personality full of contradictions, Italian grace and Parisian flair, who was keeping a salon to awe the society of her times. De Maupassant was a daily visitor. Barrès, Bourget, Robert de Montesquiou, Reynaldo Hahn, Widor as well. In her position as the lover of a well known philosopher, Emanuella derived intellectual enjoyment from humiliating the philosopher in him, even though her personal conduct with the man was above board.

Emanuella Pignatelli, countess Potocka

But it is the use of Shore's Caprice a short 9 years later, in 1882, in a case of reverse engineering (just think of the literary inspiration behind the legendary Guerlain Mitsouko) that it becomes food for fantasy. It happened when it became the perfume worn by Julia Forsell, the heroine of art critic's and journalist's Octave Mirbeau's L'écuyère (the title translates as "the horsewoman", "the amazon"). The specific quote goes like this: "Une mondaine, qui l'avait vue chez Guerlain, achetant un flacon de Shore's caprice, s'en était fait une renommée". This comes smack in the middle of a full page describing Julia's habits and skills, which are many and eye catching.
It was not the first time that a novel would benefit from a reference of perfumes worn by its characters and certainly not the last. It's mighty interesting how the imagination of authors and artists has been captured by the free-spirited character of the horsewoman, featuring such proto-feminist types in their work. But it's also fascinating to compare and contrast Shore's Caprice with the iconography of another Guerlain fragrance, the classic Jicky (1889), which as a prototype fougère, has always had a touch of the androgynous. Jicky is advertised with fetching, independent women behind the "volant" instead of the horse, stirring their lives with the determination of a true amazon.

Octave Mirbeau

The information about Shore's Caprice deliciously contradicts itself, creating an intricate puzzle of theories and little corroborated data. Four years after the release of L'écuyère, Shore's Caprice is mentioned in a complimentary manner in a proto-lifestyle-manual, Louise Gagneur's Pour Etre Aimée: Conseils d'une Coquette. There it is referenced as a perfume inspired by the sea and its complex aroma, but is deemed especially fit for neutralizing the catty aroma of certain furs. This tidbit of perfume etiquette use (common in "parfums fourrure") would have passed unnoticed had I not recalled having read an interview of Jean Kerléo, back when he was head of L'Osmothèque, where he commented at length on the feel and memories of "marine" fragrances (i.e. fragrances that try to approximate the scentscape of the ocean) and saying that they oppose the ideal of the bourgeoisie "who do not want the scent of the sea emanating off their furs". Was the countess Potocka revolutionizing fragrance mores by opting for an intellectualized scent that would clash with what the society of her times would think of as "proper"?

Whatever the scent smelled of in reality (and how realistically the smell of the sea could be captured in a composition dating from the 19th century with all the technical limitations of the times) the very existence of the fragrance is undisputed. Just a few years back, in 2009, a lot of Guerlain bottles were auctioned to perfume bottle collectors, amongst them Shore's Caprice alongside Guerlain's Cuir de Russie perfume. The square bottle measuring 17cm tall dated from 1880, a gold-gilded encrusted flacon that was a special commission, labelled «15 rue de la paix Paris» after the older address of the French family business. On it there was a gravure of a woman with a flag, providing another cryptic clue to its character.

Leo Tolstoy

But perhaps the most fascinating tidbit of all comes from a fellow "perfumista" who had read in an -as yet unidentified, unrevealed- book that Shore's Caprice was supposedly the perfume bottle found on the night table at the deathbed of famous novelist Leo Tolstoy. Is "shore" not a name but the evocation of the sea, the eternal blue that the steppe-born Russian soul only dreamed of and never attained? What was its caprice and why did it appeal to Tolstoy in the first place? Guerlain holds the key to a precious mystery in its archives.

Related reading on Perfume Shrine: Guerlain perfumes, known and unknown, Fragrance history. 

Procuring Ancient Arabian Essences

One of the delights of being a historian and a perfume writer is coming across excerpts which combine these two subjects. The Histories by Herodotus, the Greek "father of history", had been among my most beloved childhood readings; the wrapping of detailed cultural observations and travelogues (Herodotus was a great traveller) into the grander scheme of the clash of two civilizations and the ideals they represented had been especially exciting to my impressionable mind. Releafing through them for another project I again come across the passage about Arabia and the ancient aromatic essences produced in this most fragrant of lands.

Source: Uploaded by user via Nia on Pinterest

Let's hear it from the man himself:

"Again, the most southerly country is Arabia; and Arabia is the only place that produces frankincense, myrrh, cassia, cinnamon and the gum called ledanon. All these, except myrrh, cause the Arabians a lot of trouble to collect. When they gather frankincense, they burn styrax (the gum which is brought into Greece by the Phoenicians) in order to raise a smoke to drive off the flying snakes; these snakes, the same which attempt to invade Egypt, are small in size and of various colors, and great umbers of them keep guard over the trees which bear the frankincense, and the only way to get rid of them is by smoking them out with storax. [...]
When the Arabians go out to collect cassia*, they cover their bodies and faces, all but their eyes, with ox-hides and other skins. The plant grows in a shallow lake, which together with the ground about it, is infested by winged creatures very like bats, which screech alarmingly and are very pugnacious. They have to be kept from attacking the men's eyes while they are cutting the cassia. [...]
The process of collecting cinnamon* is still more remarkable. Where it comes from, and what country produces it, they do not know; the best some of them can do is to make a fair guess that it grows somewhere in the region that Dionysus was brought ip.What they say is that the dry sticks, which we have learned from the Phoenicians to call cinnamon, are brought by large birds, which carry them to their nests, made of mud, on mountain precipices, which no man can climb, and that the method the Arabians have invented for getting hold of them is to cut up the bodies of dead oxen or donkeys, or dead animals into large joints,  which they carry to the spot in question and leave on the ground near the nests. Then they retire to a safe distance and the birds fly down and carry off the joints of meat to their nests, which not bring strong enough to bear the weight, break and fall to the ground. Then the men come along and pick up the cinnamon, which is subsequently exported to other countries. [...]
Still more surprising is the way to get ledanon -or ladanum, as the Arabians call it. Sweet-smelling substance thought it is, it is found in a most malodorous place; sticking, namely, like glue in the beards of he-goats who have been browsing in the bushes. It is used as an ingredient in many kinds of perfume, and is what the Arabians chiefly burn as incense. So much for perfumes; let me only add that the whole country exhales an odor marvelously sweet. "
  ~Herodotus, The Histories, book III. (Translation in English by Aubrey de Selincourt)

*Cassia and cinnamon come from the same tree, the only difference being that cinnamon is properly the branch with the bark on, whereas cassia is the bark without the branch. Ever since the former ceased to be traded, the latter has usurped the name, therefore "our" cinnamon is the cassia of the ancients. Pliny's description of the cassia agrees with the real cinnamon. (Therefore the "cinnamon" mentioned by Herodotys if not altogether a fable should be the calamus, or aromatic reed, mentioned by Diodorus and in Exodus.) The Phoenician word was probably identical with the Hebrew, cinamom, hence the Greek κινάμμωμον,  and the Latin 'cinnamum'.
Samuel Bochart [Geographia Sacra seu Phaleg et Canaan (Caen 1646) II.iii] observes that all Greek names of spices are of Semitic origin. As the Phoenicians imported all those spices into Greece they would naturally be known to the Greeks by their Phoenician names.

Bic Fragrances: Perfume History of Les Parfums Bic (& Paris in your Pocket)

Bic pens are introducing a fragrance line (with various numbers right next to the "For Women" name to denote versions), as was brought to my attention by perfumer Ayala Moriel's tweet. But that's nothing new. In 1988, I well recall Bic, the brand known for their stylo a bille (introduced in the 1950s) launched a fragrance line, Parfums Bic, (in the exact same "flacon" in the shape of a lighter), hoping to bring the convenience of their pens, lighters, and razors to the world of perfume. "Des vrais parfums a un prix Bic!" True perfumes in the Bic price range! The French company gave an advertising pitch that talked about “the world’s first fine French perfume that combine high quality with affordable pricing and a stylish, portable design” . (Yes, they were pretty decent smelling, especially for the price, I can tell you. I did like the blue and black ones myself.)
Tag lines were inspired: "Paris in your pocket" (for which they went the extra mile shooting a classical 1980s commercial around the Tour Eiffel, as shown below in the vintage clip), "Ou tu veux, quand tu veux" (where you want it, when you want it), L'argent ne fait pas le bonheur" (happiness isn't dependent on money), "Variez les plaisirs" (indulge in a variety of pleasures) and "Le Parfum Nu" (the naked perfume). You'd think it'd become a marketing case-study. Well, it did, but in reverse.

via imagesdeparfums.fr

The design company responsible for the packaging & presentation for the US market was none other than Seymour Chwast, reproducing the bright colors and vivid visual schemes of classic 1980s mass products, surely an appealing sight offered in various tweaks. The French head of the Bic company, on the other hand,  "the idiosyncratic 74-year-old [in 1988] Baron Marchel Bich, who is a descendant of the Italian aristocrats who founded the company in 1953"was -typically for him-mum about the project at the time.

The New York Times introduced the line by Bic to the American audiences in the following words (and by the way, please note the prestige status of CK best-selling scents at the time):
"The company plans to introduce Bic No. 1, a line of inexpensive perfumes for men and women, in the United States early next year. The fragrances in small, spill-proof, portable glass bottles have had ''a very good reception'' in France, Italy and the Benelux countries, the company says. The little glass atomizers, which look like butane lighters, will cost about $5 here - an unusually low price for 7.5 milliliters of perfume, or about a quarter of an ounce. By contrast, Obsession, a top-of-the-line perfume that was an instant success, costs about $170 an ounce. The Bic pump emits about a third less than ordinary atomizer pumps and allows 300 sprays. The idea is to concentrate the scent so that it is not wasted when applied.

In France the perfumes are available in four scents with colored caps to distinguish them. Red is named Jour, or Day, a floral scent; Blue is Nuit, or Night, a spicier mix; Green is Sport, a unisex, fresh, woody scent, and black is Homme, or Man, a muskier fragrance.

First Bic contracted with a leading scent designer, Firmenich, to develop the fragrances. While it did not buy into that family-owned company, it took a 34 percent stake in Chauvet S.A., which makes perfume essences that are sold to perfume companies such as Firmenich. Then Bic bought a bottle-making plant from glass specialists Groupe Saint-Gobain, which designed the atomizer to be unbreakable. And it purchased Sofab S.A., a company that makes spray pumps.

via eighties.fr

To produce and package the perfume, Bic built a factory near the bottle-making plant in Treport, France. With a $15 million budget, it began to introduce the perfumes in Europe. The television spots in France, which were handled by Young & Rubicam, told a whimsical boy-meets-girl story using animated characters drawn by the British artist Sue Young. By contrast, the print campaign, in French fashion magazines, pushed a practical theme, stressing that the perfume is portable and is in a leak-proof bottle. " {quotes via NYT}

The pocket-size bottles were in the shape of Bic lighters while the price was comparable ($5 in the same drugstores & supermarkets alongside other Bic products, such as lighters, pens and razors).

 

From a marketing point of view the Bic perfumes were considered an epic fail: The whole admirable effort was unsuccessful, to put it mildly, stalling production as soon as 1991, probably because the era wasn't ripe for disposable French perfume (we were a long way from Sephora's little perfume roll-ons in a tutti fruity rainbow selection and the gazillion lower-value products with scent on the shelves from celebrity scents to body sprays!). There was no status in buying these in an era that was intent on possessions that showed status. There was also no storytelling involved; the need for a story (that ad speak about how the creator was smitten with this or that we read today in press releases regarding inspiration) was then as fiery as it is today.
Another unforeseen problem was the lack of testers at the stores. Initially there were some but since they were so tiny and easily snugged they were soon extinct. The distribution circuit might also account for the flop. The NYT noted that :"Competitors such as Avon and L'Oreal already have similar low-cost perfume products, but Bic's distribution channels are different."

Still, the bicperfumes.com site still exists, revamped somewhat (but with a copyright of 2007-2008) to remind us, at least in name, of these little pop culture memorabilia.

Guerlain "Nous N'Avons Pas de Prenom" vs.Marcel Guerlain & Hughes Guerlain: Perfume History

It's not uncommon that perfume newbies sometimes come across fragrances with the name "Guerlain" in their presentation and get confused as to whether it pertains to the classic, revered family house (now under LVMH ownership) or it involves a fake. (Sad as it might be, the latter is not unheard of, with dubious specimens cropping up like "vintage" Louis Vuitton fragrances beyond the known etc.) The answer to this is neither.

via tumblr.com

Two other Parisian perfume companies, Marcel Guerlain & Hughes Guerlain, are in fact totally legit and have been producing beautiful perfumes for years. Although Marcel Guerlain, who has been producing fragrances and cosmetics from his beautiful 86 rue du Faubourg-Saint-Honore in Paris boutique since 1923, shares a surname to one of the heirs of the Guerlain family, these names are not affiliated with the Pierre-Francois Guerlain family.

The confusion was no less annoying in the years preceding WWII than it is today: Marcel was legally forced to eventually change his company's name to Societe des Parfumeurs Francais. USA advertisements bear the inscription "no connection with any firm of similar name" before it. The Guerlains also took their own measures, giving rise to the "nous n'avons pas de prenom" campaign (i.e. we have no first name).
The often impressive Marcel Guerlain bottles were developed with the help of Andre Jollivet and other designers of the time.

via old-paper.delcampe.net

Marcel Guerlain Caravelle via worthpoint.com

Marcel Guerlain perfumes include:

1923 Kadour
1923 Le Roy le Veult
1924 Caravelle
1924 Pavillon Royal

Marcel Guerlain Royal Pavillon via worthpoint.com

1924 Pate D'Or
1925 Masque Rouge
1925 Ki-Loc
1925 Mai Wang
1927 Le Roi Le Veult
1927 Tabac Fleuri 8
1927 Tabac Fleuri 9
1927 Masque Rouge
1927 Contes Choisis
1928 Chypre
1929 Redoute Masque/ Rouge Redoute

Marcel Guerlain Rolls Royce via liveauctioneers.com

1929 Rolls Royce
1930 Aimee-Aime
1930 Le Cadre Noir
1930 Les Fleurs
1930 Mol
1930 Pois Senteur
1930 Cyclone
1930 Special 5

Aimee byHughes Guerlain via 1000fragrances.blogspot.com

It's interesting to note that the other company named in the title of this article, Hughes Guerlain, was founded also by Marcel Guerlain himself, alongside several other companies involved in the production and distribution of cosmetics and perfumes.

via catalogue.drouot.com

Hughes Guerlain perfumes comprise:

Extrait 9 (1920s)
Extrait 14 (1920s)
Chypre de Hughes Guerlain (1930s)
Bolide
Molny
Aimee (1930s)
Toutes Fleurs (1940s)

In conclusion, though less celebrated than the famous Guerlain classics, the products by Marcel Guerlain and Hughes Guerlain are not to be scoffed at, being beautiful and worthwhile in their own right.

Certain chronologies via Museu del Perfum