Yesterday's Perfume

Rumeur by Lanvin (1934)

Boozy, narcotic and dangerous, Rumeur is definitely a sensual, femme fatale perfume. The notes that came to the fore upon first application: dark vanilla, civet, creamy white florals; upon second and third application: leather and tobacco.

It reminds me of Baghari in the almost tropical lushness of the flowers, and, as it turns out that whatever flowers are in it (I can't find a definitive list of notes), it is fruit that lends it some of its sweetness: peach and plum. And although Baghari is animalic, Rumeur is more obviously so. I wonder if Rumeur has Baghari's flowers: ylang-ylang, jasmine, and rose or orange blossom. (I'm smelling something indolic here.) I described Baghari as unintimidating; Rumeur is definitely so. It is a very haunting, disturbing and dark fragrance to me.

When I visualize Rumeur, I imagine those dark, fleshy, oddly-colored orchids that you can hardly believe are flowers. My Sin and Baghari are white and sensual flowers — Rumeur their darker cousin. I am in love with this strange perfume.

Notes: According to The Perfumed Court, oakmoss, patchouli, bergamot, florals
According to Octavian Coifan, perfume historian, Rumeur is a fruity chypre between Mitsouko and Femme and contains: peach, plum, dark vanilla, nutmeg, cardamom, clove, civet, tobacco and cuir de russie bases prepared by Synarome.

(UPDATE: I got a whiff of the updated Rumeur; it's awful and chemical smelling. It doesn't even approximate this! Sad.) Orchid photo from Southern Garden Scents.

Ma Griffe by Carven (1946)

A perfume composed by a perfumer who had tragically become anosmic (unable to smell anything) may cause the perfumaniac to pause before sniffing, but oddly, Ma Griffe by Jean Carles is a pretty wonderful scent. Bright and edgy, Ma Griffe ("my claw") smells like the kind of perfume a good girl who doesn't yet know she's a bad girl would wear. (Like Reese Witherspoon's Tracy Flick in the movie Election.) An alternate name could be, "Scorpio Rising."

The aldehydes will punch you in the face like the olfactory version of a shot of Everclear, but the cinnamon and Gardenia (cinnamon and Gardenia?!) will cushion your fall. (The galbanum made me think of Bandit and Cabochard, but this is infinitely more wearable than those femme-bot perfumes.) Speaking of femme-bots, commenters in other blogs have mentioned that their grandmothers, or certain writers of novels like White Oleander, have tagged Ma Griffe as "the prostitute's perfume." I think really what they mean is that it's the perfume of a woman doesn't give a damn.

Bright, green, soft, comforting, and yet slightly dangerous — the comfort and the danger, I think, come from the same source: cinnamon — this is one of those fragrances that shouldn't work, but does. Perhaps I'm reading into this after the fact, but although Monsieur Carles composed this from his no doubt immaculate scent memory, it does give one the impression of a perfume based on cerebral rather than sensual abstraction, like a robot asking for a kiss. 

 Check out this ridiculous Ma Griffe ad from 1972 that contradicts every connotation the perfume notes give about the Ma Griffe woman as a firecracker! I can only laugh. (Source: Copy Ranter)

Top notes: Aldehydes, clary sage, galbanum, bergamot
Heart notes: Gardenia, jasmine, ylang-ylang, rose
Base notes: Cinnamon, tonka bean, vetiver.

Emeraude by Coty (1921)

 Looking at the beautiful chartreuse-colored liquid in the retro '60s bottle with a gold crown cap and gorgeous diagonal font upwards, I get nostalgic for a time I never belonged to.

At first whiff, Emeraude is sharp, aldehydic, and citrusy-resinous, but just as quickly  it hints that it will mellow out into a creamy amber/vanilla drydown.

It definitely smells old fashioned, but not in an off-putting way — I'm smelling my wrists the way I would a beloved's shirt, taking in deep breaths and trying to capture everything. It is a comforting yet almost haunting fragrance — warm and otherworldly.

The sharpness of the perfume and its subsequent smoothness mimic the typical cut of an emerald's surface: elegant angles combined with reflective smoothness.

The longer Emeraude is on, the more wonderful it is. (Is that civet I detect, a slight funkiness that adds some sexuality to this well-turned out, conservative, good conversationalist who is making me feel comfortable at this party, and maybe even slightly in love? It's not listed in the ingredients, but I choose to believe...) It's like a lime-flavored creamsical in its contrasting notes.

Emeraude, the drug-store classic, is a true gem.

Top notes: Orange, bergamot, tarragon
Heart notes: Jasmine, ylang-ylang, Rose and Brazilian rosewood
Base notes: Amber, sandalwood, patchouli, opoponax, benzoin and vanilla.

L'Aimant by Coty (1927)

I was excited to receive my new eBay win from the UK, Coty's vintage fragrance L'Aimant (which means both "loving her" and "the magnet"). I think my bottle is probably from the '40s or '50s. (It's a mini.)

 Alarmingly, though, I could already smell a kind of rancid powder through the thick cardboard package, inside which was layer upon layer of wrapping, until I got to the perfume itself. Once I opened the bottle and reeled from the shriek of aldehydes L'Aimant is supposed to be filled with, I got a whiff of an unusual, sensual scent that I immediately liked.

L'Aimant, created by Vincent Roubert in collaboration with Francois Coty, is said to have the following notes: Aldehydes, bergamot, neroli, peach, jasmine, rose and vanilla. Jacques Guerlain's wife loved this perfume so much, she said she even preferred it to her husband's perfumes. As one blogger describes it, after the harsh aldehydes hit you, "the scent becomes very, very creamy and buttery soft. Plummy, apricot fruitiness sparkles ever so gently and delightfully on the skin over a bed of tame florals. As time goes by, the scent becomes ever more powdery and floral: A powdery infusion of strong violets with nectarous yet soft, shy accents of tantalizing jasmine. The drydown is soft and sexy, a skin scent of sandalwood and gentle vanilla."

When I heard this described as plummy, I immediately agreed because that note is prominent in Femme by Rochas, and it too, has a sensual, feminine, buttery softness, like lived-in suede. Warm sweetness is the best way I can describe this, like cut plums sauteed in butter and brandy and sprinkled with candied violets. Adjectives I'd use to describe L'Aimant: Mysterious, powdery, buttery, soft, sensual ambery, velvety.

The powderiness in L'Aimant is saved from being grandmotherly by the round, buttery and sensual note that plum or amber or dark vanilla that underlies it, like bright oil colors on a dark velvet canvas.

If the leather in Cabochard and Bandit make them masculines, the plum/amber/vanilla notes break the leather in until it's supple, yielding, receptive. L'Aimant is the fruitier, boozier, more feminine version of Femme. I'm not sure if anyone else would like this "nectarous" perfume, but I love it.