Yesterday's Perfume

Vintage Perfume Ad: Evening in Paris and Mais Oui by Bourjois (1930s)

I'm on the last leg of a mini-vacation that turned into an impromptu road trip from California to New Orleans. (This boho/hobo lifestyle, incidentally, can't continue for much longer!) In any case, I will begin writing about perfume again tomorrow, but in the meantime...

Another lovely vintage ad.I've never smelled the iconic Evening in Paris (Soir de Paris) nor the prissily named "Mais Oui." (In my post about vintage perfume vending machines, Evening in Paris was one of the perfumes you could buy for 25 cents in those fabulous Plastene nips.)

Check out this surrealist ad, no doubt inspired by Salvador Dali and his ilk. Birds as eyes, sitting on branches that are tendrils of hair turning into flowers. "xanti-PAT" is the signature on this beautiful drawing. That's right — no naked model, no photoshop, no overt sexuality. Just Art. (Hard to believe.)

Vintage Perfume Ad: Chichi by Renoir (1940s)

"The perfume that whispers 'love me...' witchery in fragrance...to quicken the pulse and lift the heart."

Never heard of Chichi, never heard of Renoir. But what an ad, eh? Saturated, technicolor red; use of the word "witchery," something I shall be adding to everyday speech; and the retro innocence of a perfume that promises you'll smell like you're whispering "love me." (A little desperate, no?) What would that smell like, anyway?!

Vintage Perfume Ad: Nostalgia by Germaine Monteil (1941)

"Subtle, sophisticated, never to be forgotten..."

Ah, famous last words. Added poignancy: the perfume is called Nostalgia. I thought this ad I found at the NY Public Library in an old Vogue would look good on this site, the hot pink against the black background...

I don't know much about Germaine Monteil, except that she was a French fashion designer and then cosmetician. (I vaguely remember her line of cosmetics because my aunt used them as a kid — I think? Yeah, I'm old.)

According to Perfume Intelligence, Nostalgia by Germaine Monteil was released in 1941. And almost forgotten...

Vintage Perfume Ad: Tabu Perfumed Lipstick (1930s)

 

" 'Forbidden' reds heavy-scented with the 'forbidden' fragrance. Then for 'emergencies'...a drop of the perfume itself from the vial enclosed in the case. $2.50 including the perfume (tax extra)."

Given the prevailing scent-phobia that has gripped so many, it's hard to imagine a time that women would clamor for perfumed lipstick. But back in the day ('30s? or '40s?), women's "forbidden" desires were indulged by perfumer to the ho's — Tabu by Dana. (Given the looks I received when wearing perfume on public transportation in Berkeley — wanting to smell nice is indeed a forbidden desire!)

I wonder if these lipsticks were available from vending machines like the one Opal in the Rough posted on Flickr (see below), and the one I magically stumbled upon as a kid at a Stucky's truck stop in the south.(Read all about it on my post about vintage perfume vending machines.)

Should you want to know what a perfumed lipstick would smell like, you can still get perfumed Tabu lipstick on eBay. (Or you could just get a Chanel lipstick — one of the perfumiest lipsticks out there.)

Whatever your feeling about perfumed beauty products, you can still enjoy this gorgeous vintage ad, with lighting worthy of your most glamorous dream. Pretty damn fierce.

Vintage Perfume Ad: Shocking by Schiaparelli

I'm going on vacation for a week or so, so in place of writing perfume reviews, I decided it was a good time to share some of the beautiful vintage ads I copied from old Vogue magazines. (Courtesy of the amazing folks at the main branch of the NY Public Library.)

I may be moved to write a few reviews in the next couple of weeks, but if I don't, you will still get to see some lushly-colored ads with as much artistry as some of the perfumes they represented.

Here's a cute late-'30s - early-'40s ad for Elsa Schiaparelli's lovely honeyed animalic perfume  Shocking (1937), which I've reviewed. I want her hat/ears! (I forgot to write down the exact date of these ads, so I can only guess.)

What's there not to like about this ad? This adorable green-eyed woman is wearing rabbit ears, has lovely Schiap pink lips, seems to be holding a bouquet of flowers, and the name of the perfume looks like it was painted on with pink fingernail polish against a gorgeous teal background color in a wonderful retro font.

Gorgeous!

Bou-K-Bra: A Bra That You Scent With Perfume (1948)

I've just now gotten around to scanning some amazing perfume ads I had copied from vintage Vogue magazines when I was in New York in January. I hope you'll agree that they're worth the wait!

In the grand reading (and sleeping, texting and videogame-playing) room on the third floor of the New York Public Library (main branch), I requested one vintage Vogue after the next. (The earliest ones I got were from the '20s.)

 Even as some of the brittle pages crumbled under my fingers, I felt as if I had history in my hands. Or at least the history of what it was like to be a woman in the first half of the last century —  that is, better-coiffed, maquillaged, and exhausted from all the effort.

Take this ad for the Bou-K-Bra, "a bra that you scent with your personal cologne or perfume" via a "scent-petal" that fit into the bra's hidden pocket.

Clearly, this thing went the way of the pointy bra, but look how happy you were supposed to be to have a scented sachet crammed into your brassiere. Having watched a slew of Mad Men episodes, I understand what was hidden behind that smile...Enjoy anyway!

Empreinte by Courrèges (1971)

French fashion designer André Courrèges was known for his geometric, streamlined, space-age designs replete with goggles, boots, and dangerously high miniskirts. (He and Mary Quant vied for the title of miniskirt inventor.)

Empreinte ("imprint"), his sultry, chypre/floral-animalic, however, seems to invoke a '40s-era woman of mystery rather than a miniskirt-clad Mod scenester. But nevermind — it's a thing of beauty.

Once the nose-clearing aldehydes get out of the way, Empreinte becomes herby (artemisia, coriander), fruity (melon, peach) and woody-leathery (cedarwood, sandalwood, castoreum). It's one of the most delicate leather scents I've ever smelled — disarming my olfactory expectations with its rich peach/light melon/herbs combined with its chypre/amber-leather base. It reminds me of Femme, with its plummy-suede sexiness. (They share some notes, too: peach, plum, jasmine, rose, amber, patchouli, leather, sandalwood.)

Top notes: Peach, bergamot, artemisia*, aldehyde, coriander

Heart notes: Jasmine, rose, orris, melon

Base notes: Amber, patchouli, cedarwood, sandalwood, oakmoss, castoreum

As it dries down, this peachy leather affair continues to confuse and bewitch with its fresh yet worldy personality. It invites you in with its sweetness and warmth while telling you to keep your distance with its formal chypre/leather structure.

When I look at the fragrance map portion of my Haarman & Reimer fragrance guide and see the chypre/floral-animalic category (including dark and intimidating beauties such as Bandit, Azurée, Cabochard and Miss Balmain), I think of women in the smoking section (i.e. outside) at a grand and elegant gala. Let's just say, for example, the Metropolitan Museum's annual fashion gala. While the wholesome good girls are inside networking and hobnobbing, these sloe-eyed gals are joined by Empreinte, who wants to bum a cigarette and kick off her heels.

Warm, sensual, but a little intimidating, Empreinte is one gorgeous and unusual peachy leather perfume.

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*I keep running into the perfume note artemisia, which is in Bandit, Azurée and Jolie Madame, just to name some classics. Some varieties of artemisia are the familiar sagebrush, tarragon, and wormwood (the ingredient infamous for making boho types hallucinate when drinking old school style Absinthe). I have never smelled it, but I imagine it's dry, bitter and herbal. Whatever it is — it's doing something right for my style of perfume! Update: here's an interesting link about artemisia that discusses wormwood, which I guess in perfumery is synonymous with artemisia.

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Buying vintage minis is one way of experimenting with classics without emptying your bank account. I got my mini in the adorable bottle with metallic round cap from the Miniature Perfume Shoppe.

Parfum de Peau by Claude Montana (1986)

Known as the "King of the Shoulder Pads" and an influence on  wild designers such as the late Alexander McQueen, Claude Montana gifted the '80s with extreme, sculptural silhouettes and shoulder pads of Lady Gaga-esque proportions. But alas, the House of Montana, founded in 1979, went kaput in 1997.

You may see versions of the Montana shoulder quoted at Urban Outfitters, but if you saw an original at a Goodwill or consignment store, you'd probably get in front of a mirror and scream at a friend to check it out while you held it up to you and laughed your head off. (Or, if you live in the Mission in San Francisco, you'd buy it and wear it ironically.) But Parfum de Peau? You can wear it (in earnest) if you're daring. I definitely plan on it.

I had seen the sculptural Montana perfume bottle before and was curious about it, but now, thanks to my perfume pal Heather from London, I have an EDT sample of the unreformulated stuff. (Thanks, Heather!)

Top notes: Peach, cassis, pepper, green note, plum, cardamom

Heart notes: Ginger, Rose, Tuberose, Jasmine, Ylang-ylang, carnation, sandalwood

Base notes: Patchouli, vetiver, civet, castoreum, amber, musk, olibanum (frankincense)

Parfum de Peau starts off with tangy green notes, ripe cassis and peach, laid over a veil of pepper and spices (cardamom). The unspecified green note almost has a green pepper smell, an odd note to marry with ripe fruit! Spicy ginger, sandalwood and carnation join classic florals (rose, ylang-ylang, jasmine, tuberose) to the divine base which lasts for hours and evolves into a true "parfum de peau" (skin scent/perfume).

Depending on when I sniff my arm, Parfum de Peau gives me spicy fruit, an intense rose, or the amazing spicy-woody-powdery, animalic base that makes this perfume more of a Floriental to me than a fruity chypre as the H&R guide classifies it. (Or it's some hybrid of both.) Its animalic sweetness, warmth and sillage recalls Ungaro's Diva to me.

What makes this fruity concoction sexy rather than innocent or cloying is its animalic nature. In a recent post on the awesome blog Indie Perfumes, Lucy recounted an amazing talk she attended given by perfumer and Scent Opera creator Christophe Ludamiel. Commenter Leah reminds her that they learned that cardamom is often used in masculine scents because it's redolent of sweat/B.O., and cassis can come across as urinous, i.e. civet-like. So you can imagine that since both of those notes are in Parfum de Peau and are joined with the more obvious animalics castoreum and civet —  this is not a perfume to put on before you go to church on Sunday.

Parfum de Peau represents everything the '80s stands for in the popular imagination: it's loud, daring, and cacophanous. But you know what? It's also incredibly beautiful and I've had it on my mind since I put it on last night. Even though the version I have is an EDT, I can smell its subtle woody-ambery-powderiness on my skin more than 18 hours later.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: if we can embed vintage fashion tropes into modern clothes (skinny silhouettes, strong shoulders, etc.), why not incorporate vintage scents into our everyday life? I'll let you know if anyone tells me I smell powdery, soapy, or like an old lady — three responses I get from lay people who find a scent unfamiliar or too retro — but hopefully someone will ask, "What is that sexy-ass perfume you're wearing?" A girl can dream.

(Please note — there has been a reformulation, so if you're on the lookout for the vintage on eBay, make sure it's not in the bottle with the white cap. Unless someone corrects me, it seems that the vintage is either in the blue swirly bottle shown in the ad above [as a big bottle or a mini], or the mini has a gold or black cap. Anyone?)

 

Calyx by Prescriptives (1986)

Equal parts guava and grapefruit, Sophia Grojsman's stunner Calyx is arguably one of the best of its fruity genre. Its genius? Reproducing the funky fruit-going-bad ripeness that can make tropical fruit like guava, jackfruit and Durian a little scary for those who want fruit to smell like bubblegum. Add to Calyx's overripe sweetness the bitter freshness of a grapefruit accord so authentic-smelling I can almost taste the rind. Like a Jolly Rancher for your nose, Calyx gives you tart and sweet at once.

Calyx's initial slightly rotting fruit note dips down low, like an orchestra that opens by allowing the musical saw to sound its first wavering, carnivalesque note. Once the rest of its song gets back on its feet to a "normal" register, that fruit-on-the-verge-of-going-bad note lingers, coloring the way the rest of Calyx's fruity floral notes are experienced.

With as much fruit that's packed into this perfume, you'd think that it would be cloying and overbearing like the fruit-bombs that stink up Sephora's perfume aisles today. But, again, Calyx's intelligence belies its often ditzy perfume family (fruity floral).

Sophia Grojsman works some alchemical magic — providing enough green notes, citrus, moss, mint and transparency from fresh florals such as lily of the valley that the fruit comes across as more aromatic than sweet (or at least aromatically sweet).

Calyx is more of a southeast Asian tropical fruit salad — with pomelo, guava, passionfruit, mango and jackfruit — than it is a hypersweet, uninspired fruit salad of strawberry, apple and banana from an American cafeteria. The name alone tells you this isn't just an ordinary fruity floral. A calyx, in botany, refers to "the whorl of sepals of a flower...forming the outer floral envelope...enclosing and supporting the developing bud; usually green." Calyx's predominant feel is tart, fresh — green, like a guava or a grapefruit, neither of which is mentioned in the notes.

Top notes: Peach, apricot, cassis, green notes, tagetes (marigold), spearmint, bergamot

Heart notes: Lily of the valley, lily, jasmine, rose, cyclamen, melon, orris

Base notes: Cedar, musk, moss, raspberry

Diorella, one of my favorite floral chypres, has buried inside it a similar rotting fruit smell, but it gives you some time to take it in. By introducing this difficult note before the "easier" fruits and florals that comprise Calyx's primary character, Grojsman throws off our expectations, playing with perfume time by inverting the order in which notes classically arrive. I'm not sure how she does this, or if I'm making more of it than I should, but unlike civet or cumin or some "difficult" note that rises up more subtly in other perfume compositions, I get the sense that Grojsman deliberately shoved that note conspicuously to the fore, as if to say, "You want fruit? How about overripe fruit?"

When it was announced that Prescriptives, the cosmetics line known for matching makeup colors to skin tones, was discontinuing its line, many a Calyx-lover started stocking up in anticipation that the beloved guava/grapefruit-themed Calyx would go with it. Calyx, thankfully, is still available, and although I'm not sure if there's been a reformulation, I know that when I need a pick-me-up during the upcoming heat-filled months, the aromatic, funky, sweet and green Calyx is going to be on my list of scents.

Private Collection by Estee Lauder (1973)

Smelling Estee Lauder's Private Collection* is like being presented with a flower genetically engineered for maximum impact, the perfume equivalent of a beautiful face Photoshopped to erase imperfections and magnify beauty.

But this isn't just any beauty; it's angular, a little harsh, and definitely mature. I remember turning my nose up at Private Collection as a kid, wondering why anyone would want to smell so...bitter. This doesn't smell like perfume should, I said in my innocence.

Top notes: Green accord, Citrus Oils, Hyacinth

Heart notes: Jasmine, reseda, narcissus, rose, pine needle

Base notes: Oakmoss, cedar, musk, amber

At once inviting and formal, Private Collection is poised somewhere between Vent Vert in its orchestral floral nature and Inoui in its piney, woody verdancy, like a white flower whose face is toward the sun while its back buttresses cool, dark woods. 

The greening of Private Collection by galbanum (no doubt part of the "green accord"), pine, and citrus oils serve as the Photoshop tools that perfect, sharpen and enhance what's natural about this perfume, raising it to an almost scary level of beauty. PC is like a beautiful woman who catches your eye and who you cannot look away from, etiquette be damned.

And what floral notes! Private Collection features hyacinth; jasmine; rose; the difficult, sharp, almost urinous narcissus; and the new (to me) floral Reseda.** Reseda isn't, in this case, a suburb of Los Angeles, but rather the flower also known as Mignonette and whose scent is described as "ambrosial." The cumulative scent effect is akin to ripping a white flower bloom like Datura from its tree and taking in its peppery, bright freshness for a split second before it dies away.

I've been on a sort of green perfume kick, but Private Collection just upped the ante on beautiful green florals. Perfect for a formal night out in spring, which is in heartbreakingly gorgeous bloom here in New Orleans.

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*Thanks again to Qwendy of Notes on Shoes Cake & Perfume for inspiring me to dig deeper into Estee Lauder's library; this sample is from her vintage collection.

**"[A] genus of fragrant herbaceous plants native to the Mediterranean and southwest Asia...the flowers are produced in a slender spike. Each small flower can be white, yellow, green or orange." A Victorian favorite according to this source.

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A Basenotes review from Caltha: "A very green floral, but not green in the contemporary, fresh and light, often quite synthetic-smelling, citrus/tea/grass kind of way. No, this is the pungent, poisonous, green of days gone by. It's not entirely unpleasant though - not like Joy which turns into pure compost on my skin - it's more challenging, fascinating yet possibly sickening if you're not in the mood for it."

Fragrantica reader review from lemonlavendergl: "I just smelled this the other day and i was turned off by it.It smelled like heavy chemicals!! It almost smells dangerous to wear!! I just can't get that heavy unsafe smell out my mind,its almost like gasoline mixed with marijuana.It smells horrible!!"