Showing posts with label Chanel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chanel. Show all posts

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Vintage Scent of the Week: Bois des Iles

  Les Coffret Aux Souvenirs 
image from hprints by Charles Martin 1916

The new year brings a wealth of dreary work related challenges and too little time for perfume pursuits; the weather bites, too. Seeking escape through frequent trips to the vault, I find myself pulling the little old Chanel coffret out. Favorites Cuir de Russie and No 22 are ignored; lately another Chanel has caught my heart. it is just the last of the quartet to really make my heart sing. And high time, too! Since falling under its spell, I've discovered that this is apparently a most highly regarded and universally loved, sought after vintage Chanel perfume. Which one? Well, you may have guessed already but...

Coco Chanel: dressing perhaps a little young, yet looking fiercely divine. 
image: fashionmagdaily.com

...I can't imagine Coco wouldn't approve of this new favorite. I won't hold you in suspense any longer; of course I'm talking about the incomparable Bois des Iles. Scarce and generally the priciest of vintage Chanel perfumes, BdI translates as Island Woods or perhaps Island Forest is better. Chanel's ode to the exotic is built around a gorgeous sandalwood. The perfume shifts and evolves from its traditional powdery aldehyde laden opening to a refined nutty sandalwood that sweetens to end with a sigh of vanilla. It smells wonderfully worn out in the cold morning fog but wait until it opens up near the welcoming crackle of a winter fire.

Manavanshola, part of the Marayoor Sandalwood Forest.
image: xploresouth.blogspot

BdI is rare and hard to find. As I've worn it the past few days something tickled the back of my mind and sure enough I found another perfume in my collection built very similarly to BdI, the stunning Sublime. The two aren't completely identical but share to a high degree the same notes and the same spirit. If you're craving BdI but can't find it, vintage Sublime might be worth a try.

Bois des Iles Chanel/Ernest Beaux 1926: 
top: aldehydes, bergamot, neroli and peach
heart: rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, lily of the valley, woody iris (vs gingerbread, bitter almond)
base: sandalwood, vanilla/tonka, vetiver, and musk.
(notes: basenotes and fragrantica)

Sublime Jean Patou/Jean Kerleo 1992 
top: aldehydes, bergamot, tangerine, coriander, green accords. 
heart: rose, jasmine, ylang-ylang, neroli oil. 
base: sandalwood, vanilla, vetiver, oakmoss, cedar and civet.
(notes: basenotes)

The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.

Monday, December 27, 2010

Back to Black Part II: Noir Perfume by Weil


Noir, or if you prefer it in English, Black. What did this name mean to Jacqueline Fraysse and why did she choose it for this perfume?


Today, the term 'noir' conjures up images of 1940s film stars striking fierce poses, trapped in dire situations. Prior to that however it was most likely connected to ideas about the color black, as in fashion. But from the 1800s, even much earlier and through to the 1920s, black was something of a rarity in women's clothing.

 1880 mourning outfit

Black was reserved as a color to be worn for mourning, exclusively. There were strict protocols concerning the mores of mourning fashion; plain cotton or wool, solid black for the first year and a day, with only solid black accessories allowed. Women were rarely seen in public wearing this full mourning black. For the next period lasting nine months, black satin was permitted. In the last three months of mourning women graduated to somber dark tones usually shades of deep purple sometimes with purple or lavender jewelry.
 1884 Madame X, John Singer Sargent

In 1884 John Singer Sargent set out to change all of that when he showed his doomed painting Madame X. He hoped the supposedly anonymous picture would launch his portrait career but instead it tanked. The painting failed partly because everyone recognized the subject: Virginie Amélie Gautreau. Born in Louisiana in 1850 Gautreau was as well known for her rumored infidelities as for her great beauty. But it was her appearance, the fit of her dress, and especially the color- a stark column of black velvet against an expanse of glaring white skin- that was most widely and hotly criticized.

But somehow in the eye of history it didn't matter. The tide had turned towards black. It's elegance, economy and flattery to the female form, particularly in photographs and on film, was undeniable. Then in 1926 American Vogue ran a picture of Coco Chanel's newest creation, the little black dress and hailed it "Chanel's Ford".  Her claim to the LBD was not undisputed; Nettie Rosenstein is championed by some as its true innovator but through the eyes of history Coco clearly won this one.

Wallace Simpson was an early, well known proponent of wearing black for the sake of fashion alone. She is quoted as saying of the LBD: "when it's [right], there's nothing else to wear..." In 1937, Noir continued to exist primarily as a color choice of fashion's avant garde.

The Elsa Schiaparelli black wool hat, fitted bolero and dress above was designed for an elite clientele, circa 1937 from the Conde Naste Photo Archive.


A decade later in this 1947 fashion shot Richard Avedon showed us the daring drama of a cocktail dress in black. Fifteen years later the mod club kids in London took to wearing it  usually with jolts of white and Andy Warhol filled the Silver Factory with his beautiful people dressed in black.



Finally movie stars like Audrey Herburn and teen model Twiggy made noir over into something gamine, impossibly young and fresh. And that was how black became cool.



In 2011 it's easy to forget the difficult journey noir traveled to become our uniform and our comfort zone.

This year Santa brought me a sealed bottle of Weil's Noir Perfume for Christmas. He couldn't have known at the time how well he did. I couldn't either because once Noir landed in my hand I was crushed to discover the stopper was firmly wedged into the neck of the perfume bottle.  Like a true perfumer fiend, I quickly went to my bookmarked favorites and opened Dimitri's post about unsticking stuck stoppers. I re-read it before clearing a workspace for myself. I assembled my tools- a plastic pipette, some vegetable oil, a clean cloth. I applied the oil just so and waited the required time before carefully placing the wrapped bottle into the [frost free] freezer, waited some more and in 30 minutes or so with the bottle thoroughly chilled, proceeded to carefully made my first attempt at opening it. And: nothing. Again, all steps were repeated. And again: nothing. I paced a bit; I thought about whacking it like a mole. I even had sort of a mini tantrum and debated boxing it off to someone else, like Dimitri- not that he knows me or anything about the perfume but, maybe someone else could work some magic on it and get it open. Someone should enjoy it, right? Ah, the things we go through for our perfume fix!



I enlarged the above photo so you can see the little tiny hole in the bottom. Yes we had to drill into it. Now I won't pretend it was an easy-peasy process. It was actually kind of a major pain what with balancing the bottle and drilling over a bowl in case the bottle shatters way under the pressure of drilling, constantly lubricating the bit with oil and stopping to  check progress every minute or so. It took some patient work to get through the glass, and near the end I just tapped through with a pin-thin metal file. Extracting the perfume from such a small hole was a whole other challenge- save yourself the heart-ache and just go get a syringe equipped with a needle before you start.


I finally decanted the perfume into a pretty little Coty bottle but probably lost at least a ml or two trying to empty the bottle without the syringe! On the whole it was a trying process; and in the end I really hate not having Noir in it's correct container. But the alternative of not experiencing Noir wasn't happening- not on Christmas! And after getting into it, there was a rich reward; a soul-satisfying scent the likes of which I've not experienced since discovering Chanel's own Cuir de Russie (1924).

Noir is a perfectly executed tender-yet-seductive floral leather.

Like a great little black dress Noir goes on easy, at first. Orange blossom, bergamot and mandarin combine sweetly while Rose, jasmine and iris hum and thrum along. A thin green ribbon of vetiver laces up the leather, amber and styrax notes... Admittedly these notes are cribbed from Chanel's CdR yet it is also what I visualize upon smellng Noir. There is a sweetness in Noir that is lacking in Chanel's masterpiece but it is restrained. There is also a distinctly milky peach skin like effect that plays against the darker notes like a view of white skin against a rich black gown.


As I worked to clean up the tools and traces of perfume debauchery, the space around me was filled with an exquisitely delicate cloud of leather. Soft, suede like, the leather is more of a fur scent, exactly like the smell of a fine sable paintbrush complete with the snap-sharp odor of lacquer/glue that clings to new brushes; I find it quite addictive.


Through a veil of iris and balsams comes a clear impression of make up; the vision of a woman seated at her vanity. She dips a marabou puff into her Caron powder scented with the finest Rose de Mai. In the ashtray, incense papers smolder while Nina Simone plays in the background. She dabs on Weil's Noir parfum and anticipates her plans for the evening. Noir ends with the strong, raw musk of an intimate encounter; only traces of flowers, leather and powder remain all hidden under the spice that keeps it just wearable in public.

Brassai Le Corset Noir 1934

The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.

images:
natalie portman as the black swan at thecontrarianmedia.com
coco chanel in black at viaconanso.blogspot
1880s mourning outfit at millionthingstosay.tumblr
double indemnity at metaphilm
John Singer Sargant's 1884 Madame X at lynetteable.org
Duchess of Windsor - lost reference
Mods at HouseofKhan.blogspot
Andy Warhol at lakbzuhela.blogspot.com
Audrey Hepburn at thelittleblackdressforless.wordpress
twiggy at simplychic.blogspot
Victoria Beckham at HarryPottering
barbara stanwyck from myspace.com
lady at vanity at kitsch-slapped.com
Brassai Le Corset Noir at blogaboutablogabout.blogspot

Sunday, September 5, 2010

The Art of Mixing Old Perfumes with New Fashion


Renee Perle by Henri Lartigue

 There's nothing worse than taking an uber-cool trend too far and ending up as a caricature.  That's why when it comes to wearing vintage, you're smart to follow Coco Chanel's own best advice and make sure to remove one vintage item before going out, something the effortlessly chic Renee Perle always knew.

As much as I love vintage perfumes, I just can't see pairing them up with vintage clothing- way too matchy-matchy. If you're going to wear beautiful vintage clothes, set them off with a stunning new perfume. Anything by Andy Tauer, Frédéric Malle or Francis Kurkdjian would do nicely.

But what of the converse? What sort of costume does one don in order to compliment the finest vintage perfumes?

Freeing myself for a moment from the boring constraints of reality- I've been dreaming of epic fashion fair, something appropriate for my current perfume fixations- something suited to my moody iris-rose, leathery tinted dreams. Something to wear with vintage Shocking, No 22, Cuir de Russie and the fervently persued Iris Gris.

Creative Lab
I would turn the idea of a signature perfume on its head and pull from far and near exotic scents to go with the clothes of a single signature designer. And just for today, it would have to be designer Iris Van Herpen. I love her ideas about fashion, and how she thinks about wearing clothing literally like a perfume. A quote from her speaking about her 2009 collection had her musing, "if we will always be wearing clothes/fabrics, or would it be possible in future to wear other substances like smoke?" Like smoke indeed- these clothes have a perfect sillage.




If it's Hip, It's Here...
The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

A Story of Cuir de Russie...

Well, as promised it's shaping up to be a very busy spring. I know it's May 1st and the official kick off of spring but for those of us here on the West Coast, spring has already sprung and we're getting set to kick off the summer season. I'm even putting my tomatos in the ground today tomorrow, a May 1st ritual that is in perfect keeping with my biozone. Many perfumistas will be wearing their favorite Lily of the Valley scent today; it's something of a tradition in Europe and especially in France to celebrate May Day by wearing sprigs of Lily of the Valley. But as usual I'm striking a counter-note and wearing a vintage Cuir de Russie perfume instead!

Cuir de Russie as a perfume style has been explored in depth by many perfumers. Several years ago there was a definitive blog entry on the subject by Bois de Jasmine. Regardless of the fact that there were numerous predecessors, Chanel produced what we consider the prototypical feminine version of Russian Leather perfume. Her version of Cuir de Russie was composed by Ernest Beaux and originally released in 1924. That perfume, much more so than the famous No. 5, captured Coco Chanel's true essence. Rich and compelling (and a little rustic), it is more an homage to the backbone of the woman who wears it than a celebration of her smartly tailored clothing, coiffed hair or painted face.

Guerlain (Amie, that is) actually is credited with one of the earliest Cuir de Russe. He did his in 1875- soon after taking the comany from his ailing father and several years before creating his opus Jicky (1889). Like Chypre, Cuir de Russe transended any singular perfume to become a broadly interpreted perfume type. Many prominent and not-so-prominent houses ended up offering a Cuir de Russe/Russie in their lines. As Russia turned from Czarist rule, years of imperialist tradition died. The motherland was seen less as a producer of luxury items and more for its political ideaology. It is not so surprising then that many, if not most modern era Cuir perfumes began to be called by other names.

Nevertheless, there are many worthy vintage Russian leather perfumes the collector may happen across. If you know my leanings (as far the scope of this blog), you will not be surprised that my Cuir de Russie of the day is rather more obscure than the famous Chanel version. This one was done by a French company that existed in Paris only from around 1936 until sometime in the 1950s (a guess) called the Scientifiques de Beaute Vonna, or more simply Vonna. Vonna was a minor player in the world of perfume even in its hayday with barely any written history (at least Web-wise) and no discernible history of advertising. In fact, that's why it is featured here. If someone else knows more about the history of Vonna perfumes, then let him (or her) speak and add to our story.

I obtained my boxed, sealed bottle of Cuir de Russie de Vonna from an online auction for very little $$. The packaging is very Art Deco, a slide from the top box with an inner throne formed of paste-board that reveals the front of the bottle upon opening. The outter box is done color block style, with a powder blue background with a white margin along the right hand side, suggesting the view revealed by pulling back a curtain.  The bottle is a plain rectangular prism with a matching flat-top frosted glass stopper. The label is austere, cream with plain gold lettering.

Purchasing something from a house you've never heard of before is a gamble. Essentiallly, any vintage purchase (if you're hoping to wear the perfume) is a gamble. The quality of preservation of the juice is unknown until you (or soemone you trust) has smelt it. But I like to take that chance for myself since I usually have great luck in finding and selecting beautifully preserved specimens. This find was no exception because despite it showing evidence of an earlier leak, the perfume inside the bottle remains beautifully preserved.

To be honest, I bought this one hoping that it would a be a faithful duplication of Chanel's CdR. I thought perhaps it was a reasonable assumption. Vonna seemed so obscure and the name so empty of signficance that it might only have existed, as so many houses do to reproduce thoughtless copies of already famous perfumes. But boy was that idea wrong. Instead of snagging something that smelled like anything else, I went down the poverbial rabbit hole and ended up exploring something totally unique. Without comparing it to anything, the Vonna CdR smells strongly of leather. But a side-by-side comparison of a 1930-40 era Chanel CdR (parfum also) reveals the Vonna is a much softer leather scent than the Beaux/Chanel version, making the Vonna seem like an almost suede-like, more modern rendition of leather. A side-by-side comaprison with modern suede perfumes (Serge Lutens Daim Blond and Indult's Reve en Cuir) confirms, this is indeed a softer and surprisingly supple and modern turn of leather.

Vonna's Cuir De Russie opens fittingly with an over-dose of orange blossom. I say fitting because the fleshy orange blossom petals that fall from our orange trees this time of year have a naturally leathery, almost petrolish tone with an almost narcotic, honeysuckle-sweet nectar scent. Along with orange blossom, Vonna's leather seems to have been cured in a vat of violet petals (thanks to a heavy touch of ionones, no doubt). It dries down to an ultra-smooth, almost sweet tonka-suede nougat that maintains its leather character while becoming more and more powdery; you can detect on paper 24-48 hours and long beyond- it lasted as long as the Chanel extrait, although the far-dry down bases reveal even more the difference. All in all, Vonna a fantastic leather perfume for the vintage collector, if you can find it.

Perhaps one would need to travel back in time to be able to further pull back the curtain that shrouds Vonna. There is at least one related perfume I recall, a self-titled Vonna, from ~1936. On a label affixed to the Vonna Cuir de Russie bottle is a badge that reads Produits de Scientifique de Beaute de Vonna, Cachet de Garantie. History tells us that in 1926 the very similarly named Academie Scientifique de Beaute was born in Paris. The company (still family owned to this day) was founded by the French pharamcist Georges Gay, and they claim to have opened the first scientific beauty academy to train aestheticians in 1928. Many of those who were trained at the Academie went on to work with the great beauties of the day who worked in the growing film industry. While there is no direct evdience of the Academie making perfumes, one wonders was Vonna one of the institutes earliest graduates? Did she perhaps branch out into perfumes and possibly add cache to her own name by affiliating it with the Scientifique de Beaute title? The timing and place are certainly right, if not the conclusion...

The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.

image of vintage girl (despite my google avatar, she is my [vintage] doppleganger), from moregrittyv677202.blogspot
image of Vonna Cuir de Russie from Worthpoint auction house
image of vintage Chanel Cuir De Russie ad http://indya.over-blog.com/
imaeg of orange blossom from desertsonlight.com
image from Academie Scientifique de Beaute, implied to be Georges Gay 1926

Sunday, February 21, 2010

The Curious Case of Jean-Charles Brosseau's Ombre Bleue....


(image: thebardot.files.wordpress)

Rarity: 3/10
Cost Range: $60-$270
Perfume Name: Ombre Bleue
Perfumer: Jean Charles Brosseau
Year of release: 1987, discontinued
The above is just my opinion.

It's raining. Again. Nevermind that the almond trees are in full bloom and a week ago people were wearing shorts and pulling huge dandelions from their lawns... Summer seemed to be just around the corner. The warm, nay balmy, weather inspired me to turn to a perfume that I've been pursuing for a while, and for a few of the past and fleeting mild days, I took my chances and wore it once again. But perhaps I jinxed things by reaching for it too early- the skies have gone back to a blacker shade of gray, and I've had to put the bottle back on the shelf for the time being. The scent just doesn't live and breathe for me in the cold, wet waiting of this neo-spring in what is technically still winter... although I await the next warm spell with great anticipation.

(image: jcbrosseau.com)
Do you remember Jean-Charles Brosseau? If you do, chances are you know that he is the name behind the now famous perfume, Ombre Rose. OR was released in 1981 although it was originally developed or 'discovered' several years earlier (in the late 1970s) as an exciting new perfume base. But in the end, it was of such quality that it seemed to form itself into a delicious and complete perfume, a perfection of powdery-woody rose, and the incomparable Ombre Rose was born. In that first blush of its original release, it was very exclusive and expensive, a limited distribution fragrance with restrained advertising. I was in high school at the time so it was somewhat unattainable to me and at the same time, an object of great desire.
       
                                                                (images: JC Brosseau.com)
Now availability of Ombre Rose has soared and after a steady stream of candy colored and named flankers (not to mention, a certain coarseness of some of the later presentations), most of the Jean Charles Brosseau family of scents are packaged and priced comparable to drugstore, rather than higher-end department store, releases. The pure perfume and vintage presentations however remain in higher demand.  I have read online in more than one place that Ombre Rose was originally a Caron creation... But not according to JC Brosseau's website which claims it as a creation of his own. OR is classified as a floral - aldehyde and for me, it is quintessentially gorgeous.  It's notes are: aldehydes, peach, rosewood, geranium, lily of the valley, ylang-ylang, rose, orris, sandalwood, cedarwood, vetiver, vanilla, honey, iris, musk, cinnamon, tonka bean, heliotrope. I could easily go on about it. To continue my backtrack just a little longer, one of the first things that drew me to Ombre Rose was the gorgeous bottle. It's lacy imprinted art deco design and unusual octagonal shape has undeniable eye-appeal and speaks of an earlier age... because it is a rather direct copy of a well-known vintage Mury Le Narcisse Bleu perfume bottle. 
(image: cardmine.co)

(image: aedarsch.cgi.ebay)


(image: flickr, Mury 1946)

(image of JC Brosseau Fleurs D'Ombre Bleue: cortezan)

(image of the original Ombre Bleue: cgi.ebay)
Fast forward 20 years. I am combing through a little local thrift store when I notice a small square shouldered bottle with a pretty, impressed, vaguely art deco floral pattern just like the one above. It was a mini identical to the one shown directly above.  It bore no trace of markings and any thoughts of Ombre Rose were far removed from me then.  I set the little bottle on my bureau and proceeded to live my life. Then one day, I thoughtlessly dabbed a little of the perfume from the bottle onto my shoulders before setting out to walk my dogs one warm summer day. I'm sure you can guess what happened next... when a most wonderful and exotic, lush odor began to tickle my nose. What was it? I searched around a little only to discover it was me. Or more exactly, the little area on my sun warmed shoulders where the scent had been applied. I was enchanted. A combination of warm and sharp- white flowers among which I can pick out lily of the valley, Tiare and jasmine, mimosa (?), orange blossom and leaves, smooth woods all polished and folded into the purest sweet bee's wax. I rushed home and examined the bottle again hoping to find some marking, anything to give me a hint at the magical contents of the bottle. I noted the impressed pattern in the glass again. It reminded me of something I'd seen before and I knew it would be the key to my finding the identity of the mystery perfume. It was more-or-less a trial and error process, searching my books and references for that same floral patterned glass bottle.  I looked, I quit. I looked and  gave up again. Then, I happened across an old black spray canister of Ombre Rose cologne- it bore a gold printed pattern that strongly resembled the little bottle and suddenly a light clicked on in my head... The pattern was a neat fit to that on my little glass one and it was then I realized they had to be related. The Ombre Rose connection was correct and without too much trouble I found the exact match to my bottle, in what turned out to be a photograph of JC Brosseau's original Ombre Bleue (1987) perfume. Only problem was by the time I'd found it, it had been discontinued. The prices for the few remaining bottles to be found had soared to what was, back then, way out of my price range for something that had been quite affordable and was only relatively recently deceased. So I treasured my little stash of parfum to the last and continued to open the empty bottle just to inhale deeply of its traces until the little plastic stopper finally pulled apart and wedged part of itself into the neck of the little bottle. This was actually one of my earliest perfume lemming experiences. Life went on of course, but I always kept an eye out for the chance to capture another sample of OB. And a few months ago, it happened. A nice, nearly full bottle of OB appeared on EBay; in the end, it was destined for me since no one even entered a competing bid.

(image of vintage bathing suit 28 at 3.bp.blogspot)
                                                
What was it about Ombre Bleue that captured my senses so completely? The notes reveal not so much in the way of novel components. In fact it was familiarity that allowed this particular scent to worm its way into my subconscious and then, my heart.  Here is a quote and the notes from Jan Moran: "Ombre Bleue is rich and vibrant, a scent comprised of florals, woods, and amber. Honeysuckle, peach, and plum impart freshness, while rose and jasmine form the classic floral heart. Amber--smooth and sensual--is blended with woods of sandalwood and vetiver. The result is decidedly feminine, expansive and vivacious. " I've found several other sources with slightly different notes. Confusion abounds because very soon after releasing Ombre Bleue, JC Brosseau released possibly the same perfume, in a reformulated version and in a "new" bottle- instead of the square shouldered version, it was reissued (in the reformulated version) in the same octagonal bottle as is used for Ombre Rose, only the juice is blue. It is still in production, called Fleurs D'Ombre Bleue Perfume for Women, with the following fragrance notes: rose, jasmine, vanilla, plum, orange tree, lily of the valley, mimosa, tiare flowers and bees wax. It is funny that if you look on line for reviews of this perfume, or any perfume called Ombre Bleu, you will find one of two things. The reviews either praise the perfume highly as a scent of singular character and quality- or they pan it totally as worthless- watery, weak and thin, and nothing like what they expected from reading earlier reviews and word of mouth. Do I need to tell you that the poor reviews are coming from folks who ran across the reformulated FDOB, based on the great nearly cultish following that the original OB established. What was it about OB that people loved? Well, simply put- it is the scent of summer. But it transcends just any garden variety tropical floral because it mimics the scent of another cult (now well known, if currently out of fashion) classic, Bain de Soleil. Yes, the famous orange tanning gel that, if you are of a certain age, you surely recall...
 
(image: from pacocamino, originally photobucket)

According to beauty mythology Coco Chanel is credited as the first figure to make the tan fashionable back in 1920.  Jumping five years later, a certain Monsieur Antonine of Paris developed a dark tanning product which was predictably called "Bain de Soleil Antoine de Paris" in 1925. The orange paste continued to sell throughout Europe until the 1940's when Lanvin, a New York based fragrance company, introduced it to the United States as [Antoine's] Bain de Soleil. It became sought after here as well, loved for its color, texture and a radiant, exotic scent before a major magazine advertising campaigne made it even more popular. I don't know, but would not be surprised to learn that Lanvin was responsible for adding this touch of fragrance to the oil, which I'm sure was a large part of its lasting success. The smell of Bain de Soleil shimmered and indeed radiated warmth and good feelings so it really isn't a surprise that Brosseau's Ombre Bleue, designed to recall the scent of early French tanning oils strikes such a pleasing chord. I'm only surprised that the original version of Ombre Bleue disappeared so quickly and has now become so rare. I now have the edp formula and even that is a paler version of the pure parfum, which is truly excellent and not to be missed if at all possible, especially for lovers of tropical 'suntan oil' themed scents. Ombre Bleue manages to evoke the sun and exotic beach locations while avoiding totally the stereotypical, dreaded coconut or marine cliches.

(image of a tanned Coco, img.thesun.co_archives)


(image of a vintage 1960s JC Brosseau hat: bigyellowtaxivintage at Esty.com)
By the way, Jean Charles Brosseau began his career as a fashion designer of women's hats in the 1960s or slightly earlier. He created his own label at age 25 and immediately his clients included the most illustrious haute couture creators in France.  If you want to search for an even rarer Brosseau perfume than Ombre Bleue, in 1978, Jean-Charles created his first fragrance, cleverly called “BrossEau” that was sold in his shop at the Place des Victoires. I've never even glimpsed it, though it's probably a 7 (or higher!) of 10 on my self-created rareness scale. Do let me know if you've sighted or smelled it!


The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.



Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Perfume Musings (of an ex-smoker)


I'm not sure I've ever said it or even thought about it much but I used to be a smoker and I believe that's where my fascination with perfume began. I may have lacked a true appreciation for the dangers of that bad habit but I certainly realized the reek of smoke clinging to one's clothes, hair and hands was not pretty. I recall selecting my signature scents, partially on their ability to blend in with and mask the residue of my cigarettes. And so I leaned naturally towards sharp greens, smoky leathers and spicy orientals from early on. Those types of perfumes seemed best suited to masking fumes and after repeated wearings they became my preference. While my love of proper perfumes waned and laid dormant for a long time after I quit smoking, I continued to have a keen interest in incense and the head-shop variety of scented oils. Now it's been some time since my interest (being polite) in perfume has been rekindled but recently I found a nifty little bottle of Bandit parfum, that famous leather scent by Robert Piguet. This is the vintage version, not the horrifying newer release (which I keep, unopened and wrapped in it's cellophane- as a punishment, on my lower shelf). The tarry, almost skunky-tart green leather of the original version is mouth-watering. The scent memory is pure bliss as well: my smoker's hands redolent of comfortably roasted tobacco, my back warmed by the autumn sun, strolling through the Tenderloin, with a group of junky musician friends, on our way to a friend's flat. No bills and no cares- and an innocent ignorance of everything to come, the vigor of youth stinging in my blood. Those were the days, lol.
But Bandit was there with me, covering up every trace of indiscretion and adding a certain flare, an unexpected dash of style to my low-brow ways. So now of course Bandit is an old friend. It understands me and I understand it. I discovered other soul-sisters in the guise of scents, specters and members of my perfume-spirit family, scents that took me back to down-home and my soul's roots. At one time there was Halston Couture (never just Halston, only the Couture!) which was the first perfume I actually inducted into the Vintage Vault. I went into absolute panic mode when that one was discontinued; it was before the days of the internet and trying to locate a bottle of HC was a truly monumental project. Chanel's Cuir de Russie and Opium joined the select group, and most of my old-school chypres now belong as well. These are the scents I reach for first when I want to feel wise and witty and warm but no one seems to get it (or me). I guess this is more a perfume reminisce and a chance for me to sing the praises of the heavy perfumes, those strange brews that were authored for a purpose even it was just to challenge, whose makers weren't afraid to use potent ingredients in generous proportions, and who succeeded in creating masterpieces capable of not only masking the repellent odours that haunt our very existence, but also seducing us with the very same breath.
The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Givenchy Organza and Chanel 22

It's been quite a while since I've had time or desire to post on anything. My animus towards vintage perfumes hasn't really diminished; my time and energy has just been focused in other directions. I don't intend to hold myself silent for the entire duration of this MEd program, but there might not be much in the way of regular posting until next summer, except during holidays. It's Fall Break this week and even so we've been living on the air conditioner until a sudden and welcomed cool down today.
Today I had a sudden craving for vintage Chanel No. 22- perfume. It's a favorite of mine although usually I just scrimp and wear the vintage 1970's EDT spray version. If you know it, you'll know I'm not really scrimping. One spray takes it as far as you'd want to go, which even in this heat is from morning to overnight and into the shower the next morning. But after wearing it a couple of times recently, today I decided I'd wear a little of the actual vintage parfum instead. Off I went in search of the coffret in which it sits along with it's siblings: Bois De Iles, Cuir De Russie and No 5. I removed the dainty oval crystal stopper and dabbed; as it settled in, the old magic returned. In this little vial the incense and vanilla of Madame Coco's true genius of a numbered fragrance have happily married the aldehydes have quieted down a bit. And it strikes me that there is something very similar between this Chanel creation and Givenchy's original Organza.
You see, I've been smelling Organza a lot lately. We've just purchased an older home in the country- the sort I've always imagined, by the way, but the point is that we bought it from a lovely lady from Spain, named Silvia. Now Silvia reminds me of what a world war II movie star would look like today, tottering on tiny high heels, surrounded by a cloud of blonde hair, long eyelashes and a generally regal bearing. From the first moment I met her, I thought she smelled really wonderful... very elegant and refined but maybe with a little hint of bombshell, too.

Generally I'm a little shy to ask new people about perfumes, but I really wanted to know what she was wearing. It was just like when you catch just a little bit of a melody when you're not really expecting it-suddenly I couldn't place a familiar scent. So finally I asked her what she was wearing and she replied, "Oh, something my husband bought for me; it's all I ever wear... it's by Givenchy... Organza, I think." But now I realize when she said it, I was expecting her to tell me it was No 22! Maybe other people have noticed the resemblance but I never did before. I even went home and discovered it's the sandalwood. I think. Sandalwood isn't something that hits you over the head with No 22 but over time I realize it's the thing that draws my nose back into the coat or scarf after I've put away after wearing it... Now I have another sleath sandal perfume to add in my arsenal, cloaked in a fine, but rich harmony of orientalized florals, just the way I tend to like them!

The Vintage Perfume Vault, where the scent of yesterday's vogue lives.