Scent and Subversion (16 page)
Read Scent and Subversion Online
Authors: Barbara Herman
Perfumer:
Francis Fabron
L’Interdit (“Forbidden”) was designed exclusively for Audrey Hepburn by French fashion designer Hubert de Givenchy, who struck up a lifelong friendship with the gamine actress on the set of
Sabrina
and considered her his muse. Poised between sensual and girlish like Audrey Hepburn herself, L’Interdit’s lightly sweet and floral notes perfectly balance with its musky and warm base.
Subtle fruit notes join with elegant, fresh florals. As L’Interdit dries down, a surprising sensuality envelops the atmosphere of the perfume’s initial, ingénue-like scent impression. Creamy balsamic notes pair up with sandalwood, adding both a sensuality and an earthiness that seems a fitting olfactory tribute to the beloved actress. Like Audrey Hepburn herself, L’Interdit perfume is fresh, playful, and understated, with its own
je ne sais quoi
chic.
Top notes:
Aldehyde accord, bergamot, mandarin, peach, strawberry
Heart notes:
Rose, jasmine, lily of the valley, ylang-ylang, orris, jonquil, narcissus
Base notes:
Vetiver, sandalwood, tonka, amber, cistus, benzoin, musk
by Max Factor (1958)
Introduced in the 1950s by Max Factor “for the woman born to enchant men,” Hypnotique is a floral chypre with less animalic heft than Primitif but with similar seductress tendencies. Like many drugstore fragrances of its day, it dries down to an animalic as well as balsamic base.
Hypnotique was one of the most popular perfumes in the United States during the 1950s, perhaps due in part to its amazing kitsch presentation: Many women will recognize the campy velvet “hypno-cat” with rhinestone eyes that came with the perfume.
Notes not available.
by Grès (1959)
Perfumer:
Bernard Chant
Trained as a sculptor, Alix Barton, née Germaine Émile Krebs and known later as “Madame Grès,” launched her fashion house Grès in 1942. Her designs were modern, couture renditions of the gowns seen on Greek statues, tailored and flowing at the same time, like moveable sculptures. Classical and columnar, they draped the fashionable bodies of women like Jacqueline Kennedy, Marlene Dietrich, and the Duchess of Windsor.
Grès had wanted her first fragrance to smell like the water hyacinth she’d smelled on a trip to India, fresh and floral. But intense chypres were popular at the time, so Bernard Chant’s leather chypre Cabochard came to represent the Grès fashion line.
Caboche
means headstrong or stubborn in French, and Cabochard projects an attenuated toughness. Like a “light” version of Robert Piguet’s Bandit, which it is often compared to, Cabochard also contains galbanum and the chemical isobutyl quinoline, which gives both perfumes a harsh, green, rubbery, and leather note. Yet Cabochard is a kinder, gentler, more floral Bandit, down to the demure gray bow around its neck.
Top notes:
Aldehydes, citrus, fruit, spice accents
Heart notes:
Jasmine, rose, geranium, ylang-ylang, orris
Base notes:
Patchouli, amber, vetiver, castoreum, moss, musk
You know what they say about women who smoke cigarettes …
Norell, Fidji, Calandre (1960–1969)
I
n the HBO drama
Mad Men,
the Sterling Cooper advertising agency in Manhattan becomes the stage on which the racial, sexual, and political tensions that were beginning to explode in ’60s America are played out in miniature. In one episode, a countercultural, lesbian character named Joyce Ramsay, a
Life
magazine photographer, befriends the ambitious secretary-turned-copywriter Peggy Olson, taking her downtown to smoke pot, proposition her, and eventually help her to get a pivotal account, which improves Olson’s standing at the agency.
The viewer feels a frisson of excitement when Joyce—a subversive figure who offers a different way of being a woman—enters the picture, invading the buttoned-down, patriarchal space of Sterling Cooper, with its deadeningly rigid gender roles.
The perfumes of the 1960s have within them similar tensions, between the ladylike requirements of matching shoes and bags inherent in a Madame Rochas or Calèche, to the exotic intensities of Dioressence and Azurée or the lighthearted Calandre and Ô de Lancôme, which loosen up the olfactory 1960s.
by Rochas (1960)
Perfumer:
Guy Robert
Like olfactory Prozac, Madame Rochas is light, fresh, and uplifting. I love its leafy, coriander-like green and citrus of the opening; its sheer rose and lily of the valley, with a hint of sweetness from violet and ylang-ylang; and the sunny warmth of the spicy-salty-mossy drydown. (I’m convinced that Calandre, nine years later, paid homage to Madame Rochas. It should practically be called Mademoiselle Rochas, as it is lighter and more metallic.)
When I sniff Madame Rochas, I think of a woman who’s mastered Emily Post’s book on etiquette, matches her shoes to her pocketbook, and who is kind to everyone in equal measure. Elegant, light, crisp, yet warm: Madame Rochas is a beauty.
Top notes:
Aldehydes, bergamot, lemon, leafy-green note
Heart notes:
Rose, lily of the valley, jasmine, orris, ylang-ylang, violet
Base notes:
Sandalwood, amber, vetiver, musk, tonka, benzoin, moss
by Hermès (1961)
Perfumer:
Guy Robert
Although Calèche is categorized as an aldehydic/sweet floral, it was the resiny, woody, and balsamic base that left the biggest impression on me. Like red lipstick for the outdoorsy aristocrat who can’t otherwise be bothered to wear makeup, Calèche is a perfume for the woman who doesn’t have to try too hard. The epitome of Parisian chic, it’s reserved, elegant, and well thought out without being fussy.
Calèche starts off with sharp aldehydes and crisp citrus notes. What follows is a gorgeously blended bouquet of classic floral notes and balsams that provide a hint of Oriental sweetness. Its masculine base makes me think of the leather from Jolie Madame and Chanel’s Cuir de Russie.
Although the floral impression stays throughout Calèche, the more mysterious, resiny and dry base dominates the scent, drying down into an amber/tonka/musk softness and resting, at the end, into an almost-incensey spiciness before disappearing. For brief flashes, the coniferous cypress note suggests the bracing outdoors, an olfactory hint that the Calèche woman is no wilting, indoor flower.
Top notes:
Aldehydes, bergamot, lemon, neroli, cypress
Heart notes:
Jasmine, rose, lily of the valley, ylang-ylang
Base notes:
Olibanum (frankincense), vetiver, sandalwood, amber, tonka, musk
by Jean Desprez (1962)
When I first started collecting vintage perfume, I discovered that Bal à Versailles was spoken about in revered tones for being dirty and animalic. Having waded through truly glorious stinkers, I must say I just don’t get it.
Bal à Versailles is the perfume version of a rock star’s retro suit: an interpretation of the past through the tripped-out psychedelic fantasies of the ’60s. Attempting to recall decadent ballroom soirées past at Versailles, with powdered ladies exuding aristocratic perspiration, Bal à Versailles combines tinniness with flowers and musk.
It starts off brightly and moves into a powdery sweetness. You can almost smell the smoke from dying-out beeswax candles. An hour or two into it, and Bal à Versailles is a mellow, powdery-gentle, and comforting skin scent.
Top notes:
Bergamot, lemon, mandarin, neroli
Heart notes:
Rose de Mai, lily of the valley, lilac, orris, jasmine, ylang-ylang
Base notes:
Cedarwood, sandalwood, vanilla, benzoin, melilot (sweet clover), Tolu balsam
by Guerlain (1962)
This late-1960s ad for Chant d’Aromes (“Fragrant Songs”) lays out a familiar perfume trope: It speaks for women to men.
Perfumer:
Jean-Paul Guerlain
Chant d’Aromes (“Fragrant Songs”) starts off sharp, sweet, and slightly fruity, the latter quality thanks to its plummy mirabelle note. It’s more of a floral than a chypre in character, but those high notes have to land somewhere, and a slightly incensey and mossy base isn’t a bad place to fall.
Heady sweet white flowers combine with almondy heliotrope and a balsamic-mossy base. I’m not even a fan of sweet floral notes, but refusing this perfume is not an option.
Top notes:
Mirabelle, gardenia, aldehydes
Heart notes:
Jasmine, honeysuckle, clove bud, ylang-ylang
Base notes:
Benzoin Siam, musk, olibanum, vetiver, moss, heliotrope
by Molyneux (1962)
Aptly named, Fête is indeed a party—in your nose—and it’s one of the few perfumes I’ve smelled in the odd but wonderful category known as the fruit-animalic chypre. You get a little bit of everything with this: the happy sport-scent opening of rich fruit and florals, and the creaminess of benzoin and vanilla married with a mossy, animalic base. There’s even a mysterious saltiness, and the entire effect is like eating savory and sweet together.
Civet is definitely prowling around the edges of Fête, not officially invited to the party but crashing through its velvet ropes anyway, adding its inimitable louche brand of chic. As you initially approach Fête, luscious and tart peach, plum, and bergamot (maybe galbanum?) hit you like the bubbles from a freshly cracked-open bottle of champagne, lifting your senses. But wait—what’s that eyebrow-raising funky “off” scent that’s lowering your inhibitions? Riffraff Cumin and Leather must have distracted the doorman.
Once Fête starts drying down, you can smell its multiple layers at once. Like perfumes that came later, including 1965’s Aramis for men by Estee Lauder, 1967’s Miss Balmain, and 1971’s Sikkim by Lancome, Fête is a sexy, complex, and well-rounded leather. One of my favorites.
Top notes:
Caraway, plum, peach, bergamot, and Brazilian rosewood
Heart notes:
Lilac, orris root, jasmine, and ylang-ylang
Base notes:
Sandalwood, benzoin, vanilla, oakmoss, civet, leather
by Lubin (1962)
If the chartreuse-colored gown worn by artist Tamara de Lempicka’s
Young Lady with Gloves
had a scent, it would be the deep, silky glow of Idole. A smooth, elegant jasmine-led floral greened by lily of the valley, Idole (“Idol”) soothes and hypnotizes me with its beauty. Idole is said to to have a chypre-animalic base, and, if anything, I’d agree that some civet might be lurking around, looking to cause some limbic system trouble.
This is such an expertly blended, unhurried floral, languishing on a chaise lounge rather than out and about, trying to win popularity contests, that it’s hard to pinpoint what else is in here. Idole is in the same company as other cool customers like Norell and Marilyn Miglin’s Pheromone. (Lubin’s 2011 rerelease of Idole, made spicy, woody, and almost oud-like by Olivia Giacobetti, bears zero genetic relation to the original. They simply share a name and a heritage.)
Notes not available.
by Avon (1962)
Please raise your hand if the “coconut-leather chypre” combination would ever occur (!) to you in your wildest perfume dreams. Before you have time to let that sink in, realize that Occur! also includes green notes, spices, creamy florals, civet, and musk.
There’s a photo of boho scenester Talitha Getty in Morocco in the ’60s, posing on the rooftop of her home in Marrakech. This perfume is the olfactory equivalent of the paisley, ethnic print she wore—spicy, exotic, and outré.
Occur! is also the perfume version of a gourmet dish made by a chef with good taste who didn’t know when to stop throwing ingredients in the pot. There’s a little bit of (and too much of) everything in it.
Top notes:
Aldehydes, bergamot, cardamom, coriander
Heart notes:
Gardenia, carnation, jasmine, rose, lily of the valley
Base notes:
Vetiver, white honey, musk, oakmoss, amber, coconut, vanilla, castoreum, civet, leather, patchouli, styrax, myrrh
by Revson (1963)
If Ciara were a person, she’d have feathered hair and would be sporting a rust-colored vest. Intensely spicy, sweet, powdery, and dry, Ciara is about as far from a contemporary perfume as you could get, and it makes a perfume like Chanel’s 1924 Cuir de Russie seem positively modern. Ciara starts off sweet, with fruit top notes and an intensely powdery orris bridge, and then moves to an incensey, resiny base of frankincense and myrrh. A subtle leather base keeps Ciara from being too cloying, but this is one of those potpourri-like scents I could never imagine coming back in style. Never say never …?
Top notes:
Bergamot, raspberry, neroli, lemon
Heart notes:
Jasmine, palmarosa, rosewood, ylang-ylang, orris
Base notes:
Leather, cedarwood, opopanax, olibanum, vanilla
by Christian Dior (1963)
Perfumer:
Paul Vacher
If you’re looking for a tough, animalic butch leather, Diorling is not your gal. This autumnal scent, balancing bright florals and a touch of fresh green, wears its mossy-leather base like
Belle de Jour
’s Catherine Deneuve wore leather boots—for a calculated tough accent to its predominantly ladylike personality.
Diorling, like Scandal and Jolie Madame, is the love child of narcotic florals and a leather saddle. It combines sweetness with leather in a combo seen before the 1970s but not to be resurrected until niche houses, within the past decade, revived leather as an accord. Momentarily, its leather base is Bandit-like with its bitter quinolines and its blink-or-you-might-miss-it civet—or is that cumin? In the drydown, however, unlike the harsh-green butchness of Bandit, Diorling seems conventionally feminine: Powdery and mossy, it dries down to an almost fruity, rich-orris powdery base touched with moss and leather.
In the
1964 Dictionnaire des Parfums de France,
Diorling is described as “a fruity chypre, a green woodsy and fruity fragrance …” Furthermore, “Spiritual Diorling is a green, floral, young and tender fragrance that will adapt to the lady who wears it. It may be arousing or innocent, sophisticated or casual. The new Diorling has an ambiguous side that allows it to satisfy any demands and any wish.” Maybe I was prescient in evoking
Belle de Jour!
Notes:
Jasmine, rose, oakmoss, bitter orange, nasturtium, fruit notes
(Notes from
1964 Dictionnaire des Parfums de France.
)
by Pierre Balmain (1964)
Perfumer:
Germaine Cellier
Monsieur Balmain is like a cross between Coriandre, with its dank herbiness, and Antilope, with its ripe, animalic, sun-drenched hay smell. The great Germaine Cellier tweaked this men’s fragrance the same way she did everything—by subverting expectations. First, you get the freshest, most complex lemon and bergamot, and then, most definitely, the smell of aromatic lemongrass.
If men’s scents are supposed to be as unobtrusive as gray suits, lemongrass should be Monsieur Balmain’s first hint that you’re getting more than you bargained for. Herby, citrusy, animalic, and yet subtle, Monsieur Balmain is a gem—but alas, a discontinued one.
Top notes:
Bergamot, lemon, lavender, basil
Heart notes:
Jasmine, lemongrass, ginger, carnation, cyclamen
Base notes:
Oakmoss, cedar, musk, leather, patchouli
